

### By Jim Roberts

Copyright © 2013 Jim Roberts

## Also by Jim Roberts

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SMASHWORDS EDITION 2.0, LICENSE NOTES

### This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

### ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

### I would like to thank David Morrell, the creator of Rambo for his advice and encouragement. A special thanks to Tony, David, and Alysha for their opinions. And of course, thank you Ma, for everything!

### DISCLAIMER

### This book contains some coarse language and action/adventure violence. Reader discretion is advised.

### All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely circumstantial.

### Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1: Simple as Butter and Toast

Chapter 2: Storming the Steppe

Chapter 3: Meet and Greet

Chapter 4: The Hard Way

Chapter 5: Hatching a Plan

Chapter 6: A Kingdom for a Nail

Chapter 7: The Second Skin

Chapter 8: Preparations

Chapter 9: Rise of a Warrior

Chapter 10: Run, Shoot, Jump

Chapter 11: Two Against One

Chapter 12: A Time to Act

Chapter 13: Balls to the Wall

Chapter 14: Stuck in the Middle with Yune

Chapter 15: A New Deal

Chapter 16: Meet the Team

Chapter 17: Into the Cold Fire

Chapter 18: Flying Squirrel

Chapter 19: Delivering the Smackdown

Chapter 20: We're Gonna Lose Him!

Chapter 21: Peacemakers

Epilogue

About the Author

Prologue

Northern Afghanistan, Near the Kazinistan Border

HEAVY SMOKE obscured the starry night sky, spewed from flames burning with the heat of a crucible. The half dozen vehicles that made up the NATO convoy destined for Pakistan had been reduced to melted chunks of molten slag. Bodies of over twenty NATO soldiers littered the area surrounding the convoy—some aflame, most wracked with gunfire. The corpses contorted in horrible caricatures of pain and anguish.

All told, the attack had been a smashing success.

It had all gone according to plan. Olympus Private Military _Hyperion_ VTOL aircraft had flown in with less than fifteen seconds warning. The Vertical-Takeoff-and-Landing jet resembled something akin to a dragonfly, its large wings utilizing twin rotating engines, allowing the vehicle maximum mobility in the air. The convoy of NATO Humvees and Cougar IMV's were unprepared when a combination of incendiary missiles and cannon fire laid waste to every vehicle in turn. _Hyperion_ pilots knew their mission well—destroy all visible personnel and military vehicles, except the large Peterbilt truck located in the center of the convoy. That was the prize.

After the battle subsided, the Olympus Commander was alerted that the area was pacified, making it safe for his approach. A heavily modified Mi-M8 Russian Helicopter—repainted the trademark obsidian black of the Olympus PMC—flew in from over the northern hills. It alighted upon a small dirt knoll some two-hundred feet from the carnage.

Olympus Commander Dante exited the chopper and surveyed the bloodshed with a muted look of satisfaction. Flanked by two Olympus Centurion Troopers armed with XM8 Carbine assault rifles, he stood like a monolith, eyes seeing everything. To Dante, the attack had been almost too perfect, too easy. This was no true test of a soldier's ability, but his men required active field training, so this would suffice for now.

The Olympus Commander stood for a final moment taking the sight in. He was as fearsome a man as ever walked this part of the earth. Six feet and ten inches of granite-hard muscle, built like a dump truck, with hands that could crush a man's skull like a grapefruit. An armored black body suit encased Dante's mammoth figure, containing the latest weaves of Rynohyde-Carbon Fiber textiles. Over top, he wore a thick wool longcoat and on his stark bald head wore the crimson beret of an Olympus high commander.

"Hurry it up, gentlemen. This is beneath our talents," Dante shouted commands to his men like Hannibal to his horde, "Make sure there are no NATO survivors and bring me that damn scientist!"

Dante's orders were aimed at one of the two Centurion guardsmen by his side. The soldier snapped his arm against the left breast of his armor, making the Olympus salute, then went to join his comrades surrounding the Peterbilt semi. Centurions were the crack foot soldiers of the Private Military known as Olympus, decked out with the latest Reactive Armor designs. The reddish-black armor gave each soldier the look of a fearsome blood-soaked demon in the Afghan moonlight. As he watched his troopers work, Dante sighed. With recent budget shortfalls as they were, the armor had yet to be perfected.

Several flashes of gunfire resounded from the ambush site. The survivors were being dealt with—an unfortunate necessity.

But where was that goddamn scientist?

Dante produced a pair of infrared binoculars from his jacket to better view the scene. He watched as the Centurions under his command opened the cargo box of the Peterbilt truck and searched its interior.

"Centurion Alpha?" shouted Dante over the din of the Mi-M8 rotor blades.

The armored soldier to Dante's right answered, his voice electronically filtered through his helmet, "Sir!"

"Get down there and find out what the situation is with the scientist. We've wasted enough time here!"

"Sir!" The Centurion readied his weapon and double-timed it towards the chaos of the attack. Dante waited. He hated waiting more than anything else, hated every simpering second of it. After a few moments, the mini-Bluetooth receiver attached to Dante's ear chimed that it was receiving a call.

Centurion Alpha's voice squawked in Dante's ear, " _Sir, there are multiple survivors in the cargo truck—three in total. What are your orders_?"

Dante smiled, "Bring them to my position, Alpha. Order the men to secure the cargo contents for transport."

"Yes, sir," replied the young Centurion.

Dante was growing more impatient. Having served in most of the war-torn hellholes around the world, the Commander of the largest, most secretive private military had picked up a few bad habits, his impatience being one of the nicer ones.

Centurion Alpha returned a few moments later, flanked by two more of his comrades. Between them were three survivors: two nondescript Turkish men wearing white lab coats and a Japanese man wearing octagonal glasses. He was casually dressed compared to his companions in a black jean jacket and dark slacks. The whirling blades of the Mi-M8 kicked up dirt into the scientist's eyes, forcing them to squint.

Dante approached the three scientists, his eyes moving to focus on the Asian man. "Welcome back to Olympus, Doctor Yune," he said, a wide grin spreading across his brutish face.

The Doctor looked up at Dante, a glimpse of defiance in his dark brown eyes. Dante smirked at his prisoner, disregarding the other two scientists, "It was a valiant effort, Doctor, to make a break for Pakistan with Olympus property. But now it's time to return and finish what you began."

Yune grimaced. "I will not. Never again."

Dante gestured at the Centurions standing behind the three scientists. The trooper to the right nodded, lifted his Carbine to eye-level, and fired a bullet into the head of the scientist beside the Doctor. Yune recoiled in horror at the sight of his colleague pitching to the dirt, blood and gore gushing from the wound in the back of his skull. Dante nodded to the other trooper standing behind the remaining Turkish scientist. The Centurion lifted his own rifle and prepared to fire.

Doctor Yune moved to stand in front of the scientist, putting himself between his friend and the Centurion. "No! No more!"

Dante grinned as he watched the scene play out, "There is no need for further violence, Doctor. Please come with me now." Doctor Yune scowled and moved to stand beside the Olympus Commander. Dante placed a hand on the Doctor's shoulder as he led Yune towards the helicopter. The giant's manner seemed almost gracious. "You know we cannot replicate your research in drone technology without your full support," said Dante, his voice dripping with malice, "It hurts me to know you wished to leave our company. But what hurts me more is you took your _lovely_ creations with you."

Dante gestured for Yune to look back at the Peterbilt truck. The Centurions were unloading several large crates from the back of the trailer into one of the _Hyperions_ perched near the ruined convoy.

The Asian scientist looked confused, "I...I don't...I mean I have..."

"—That is correct, Doctor—" interrupted Dante, "—you have much that we need. _And_ we will take it from you for as long as we require."

Centurion Alpha took his place behind Dr. Yune and pushed him towards the landed Mi-M8. Yune looked back at his fellow scientist, still standing in front of the armed Centurions, "What about my friend?"

Dante's smile vanished, "Do not worry, Doctor. He is no longer your concern." A loud burst of gunfire flashed from the Centurion's weapons. The scientist toppled to the ground, dead.

"No!" Yune screamed as he tried to run back to his fallen companion. His action resulted in a rough shove from Centurion Alpha. Yune was enraged at the killing of his friends. He lashed out and struck the large trooper as hard as he could. The doctor succeeded only in hurting his knuckles on the armored soldier's helmet. However, the moment of defiance angered the Olympus trooper. Centurion Alpha smashed Yune hard across the face, dropping the doctor into the sand. Blood spewed from a nasty gash that ripped across Yune's check.

Commander Dante marched towards the Centurion and smashed the trooper with a meaty backhand. Alpha pitched to the ground in a heap.

"You fool! Were your orders not clear that he is not to be touched?"

"I'm sorry, sir," the trooper stammered, knowing full well what displeasing Commander Dante entailed, "It was a mistake!"

Dante was fast approaching a fury. Few survived one of Commander Dante's furies. He reached out with his massive hand and grasped Centurion Alpha by the neck, hoisting him to his feet.

"My dear comrade, mistakes are how empires fall!"

And with that, he grabbed the struggling Centurion's belt clasp with one hand and lifted the soldier into the waiting rotor blades of the helicopter. With a sickening *grunch* the blades tore through the torso of the hapless soldier. Chunks of gore and blood spattered across the site. Satisfied, Dante tossed the torso-less cadaver to the side. He picked up Yune by the collar of his jacket and yanked him to his feet. The helicopter door slid open. Inside the bird, several waiting Olympus troopers pulled the doctor inside the vehicle and secured him for transport.

Before entering the helicopter himself, Dante took one last look at the ambush site. His men had finished loading the _Hyperion_ VTOL's with the contents of the truck. _Good_. Things were going smoothly. From here, it was only a matter of destroying the evidence, which his men could handle well enough on their own.

Dante entered the helicopter, making sure not to step in the mess that was Centurion Alpha, and closed the door behind him. His gargantuan figure barely cleared the doorframe, requiring him to stoop inside the cramped chopper.

"We are finished here. Take off, now!"

The Olympus pilot nodded from the cockpit and the helicopter began to rise. As they soared into the night sky, the flames of the burning convoy below began to subside. A familiar pinging sound buzzed from the Bluetooth comm.

Dante pressed a finger to activate it, speaking quickly, "Yes, my Imperius?" The voice on the other end spoke quickly, "Yes sir, I am on my way with the good Doctor right now. No sir, the cargo is still being loaded. Yes, I understand, my lord—time is of the essence. The cargo will be delivered to the fort as you requested. Yes, the surveillance tech will be prepared in time. I'll see that the Doctor begins immediately on the new drone technology. I promise the Code download will not be interrupted."

One of the Centurions looked over at Dante, curious about the discussion. Dante gave the trooper a withering glance. The Centurion snapped back to his own business. Dante let the tension hang in the air for a moment before returning to his call.

"...Yes, sir, you may proceed as planned. Phase One will begin in two days, as scheduled...NATO will have no idea what is happening...yes, of course, my Imperator. Goodbye."

Dante switched off the headset and looked outside the chopper as it powered low over the Afghan steppe towards the Pamir Mountains to the north. He was excited, more excited than he'd been in years.

So close.

_The Code is within our grasp_.

### Chapter 1

Simple as Butter and Toast

NATO Forward Operating Outpost, Designated Firebase Foxtrot

Six Months Later

STAFF SERGEANT Joseph Braddock attached the final strap of his flak jacket and checked himself out in the mirror. A six-foot, tightly muscled, twenty-eight-year-old Army Ranger stared him right back. _Not bad_. He ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair—grown long over the last few months of his deployment in the Northern Afghan border outpost designated Firebase Foxtrot. To finish his kit, he picked up his desert camo helmet and strapped it to his head loosely.

He took his last few free seconds to muse over his appearance. In the two years since he'd shipped out here to Firebase Foxtrot, he'd racked up a noticeable amount of scars: a large white one that arched across his eyebrow, given to him by an angry Taliban bastard that had used his face for knife practice; a grisly scar that leaped up from his collar caused by shrapnel from an IED that also killed two of his friends; and a final scar that, well, was in a place the sun didn't shine.

_Two more weeks_ , he told himself, _two more weeks and we go home_. A range of mixed emotions waved over him as he finished his weapons check alone, as he preferred. The rest of his Ranger Platoon were prepping the Humvee column right now, awaiting their intrepid Sergeant to lead them on their last mission before leaving this backward, ass-end country for good.

He stared at himself in the mirror.

Bring them home Joe. They're counting on you.

From the bench opposite the sink, he grabbed his M4A1 Carbine, tricked out with an under-mounted M27 Grenade Launcher and Elcan Spector telescopic sight—his old standby. Giving his grim, gung-ho face an approving nod, he headed out of the barracks into the morning sunlight.

The mercury was spiking already at ninety-five degrees, but the day was young—the sweltering heat would only get worse. His squad leaders were mustering outside the barracks, making sure last-minute preparations were complete before the recon operation commenced.

Firebase Foxtrot was the northernmost Coalition outpost in Afghanistan, less than a hundred miles from the border of Kazinistan, the neutral country to the north and Uzbekistan to the west. The camp had certainly seen better days. The Hesco barriers— large gabions filled with sand surrounding the outpost— were badly dilapidated from heavy mortar fire. Most of the dozen or so buildings within the camp were severely broken-down and in dire need of repair.

Two more weeks. After that, this place would be left to the coyotes.

And they were welcome to it.

_Still_ , Joe thought as he approached his boys, _this place feels more like home than the ratshit apartment I lived in back in Fort Benning_. An orphan raised in the Sunflower State, he'd grown up one-hundred-percent corn-fed by his hardworking guardians, Liza and Thomas Braddock. Enlisting in the Army in 2003 when he was seventeen, he'd moved fast up the chain until it was suggested that he try out for the Rangers. Passing the Regiment entrance exam with flying colors, Joe had fought in almost every conflict the Rangers engaged in since. Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya, Pakistan, and several other romantic getaways were Joe's stomping grounds for the past nine years. More than once his superiors attempted to convince the veteran soldier to accept a commission, but Joe always turned them down. He couldn't bring himself to leave his men within the unit.

They were his brothers.

His life.

As Joe moved among his mates, checking their equipment, he made sure they had everything they needed. All seemed well. He could tell his boys were eager to be out of here. This tour had been the longest in Joe's career as a Ranger, longer even for other veterans in the platoon. It was time to go home.

Just one more mission. Do it right and get your men home.

Joe whistled for the attention of his squad commanders, "Listen up, ladies! Details are sketchy on this op, so remember your training and things will go fine. We're to recon the Imam Sahib District of the Kunduz province to the northeast, ten miles from the border of Kazinistan. Over the past few months, NATO's lost two large convoys of personnel to unknown enemy contacts, probably Taliban infiltrating from Kazinistan to the north. NATO's been a bit behind in its paperwork and we've been selected to check it out before the withdrawal as a favor for the Afghan Army."

There were several collective groans from the boys in his platoon. Although Joe straightened them out with a "secure that shit" command, he had to admit the Afghan Army was mostly useless in pretty much everything it tried to do. Its men were strong with heart and determination but lacked the discipline to wage a confident war against their enemy. Joe often wondered what would happen when the US Army truly and completely pulled out of Afghanistan altogether.

He continued his briefing, "We recon the area, check for any enemy contacts, and take em out. Air support will be provided by one Predator Drone that will take off from Bravo One outpost forty miles away and rendezvous above our position. We'll be back before suppertime. All in all, simple as butter and toast." He paused for effect before adding, "One other thing: there have been reports of unidentified aerial objects throughout the northern provinces over the past few months. Command is chalking it up to jitters from the locals about the NATO withdrawal. Still...keep a weather eye for anything out of the ordinary."

He wrapped up the briefing by saying, "Let's get this one right, boys. This is our last op in this dustbowl. Be ready for anything and let's leave these insurgents with something to remember the 76th for!"

The squad leaders howled in acknowledgment. They were ready, willing and able.

One last op.

Joe ordered the men to fall out and alert their squads to mount up. The remaining squad members were mustering at the Humvees being prepped in the motorcade.

"Nice speech Sergeant."

Joe whirled around to see who had spoken. Danny Callbeck, the Canadian CANSOFCOM Joint Task Force 2 operator stood directly behind him. Joe hadn't heard a thing, as usual.

"Someday you'll have to show me how you sneak up like that, Callbeck." Joe wasn't angry, just slightly annoyed. The Canadian Special Forces operative had an amazing knack for sneaking up and making you jump out of your boots with a single word.

"It's a gift, Sergeant," Danny said in his calm, cool voice, "Not much else to it. Command says I'm traveling with you on this one."

Joe guessed as much. Corporal Callbeck was fitted for the op, complete with flak jacket, helmet, and C-7 Assault Rifle. Joe had tried to get the Canuck to switch to the M4A1 carbine, but Danny refused. It was something to do with UN regulations that forced its soldiers to stick with the weapons assigned them. Joe had let it go. After all, Danny Callbeck was not here as a regular soldier.

Callbeck was one of the most unusual men Joe had ever met. He'd known few Canadians in his time with the Rangers, and less still while serving in Afghanistan. Those he did know, however, were well-trained and strong-willed. They served as a tribute to Canada's outstanding army training programs.

Danny was, however, the first Inuit person he'd ever met. Twenty-seven years young, his face was smooth and handsome, with high cheekbones and dark, almond brown eyes. His raven-black hair, hidden underneath his helmet, was cut high and dry. He was shorter than Joe by an inch or two but made up for it with a slender, athletic physique.

His presence in a camp filled with Army Rangers was the result of a joint NATO / UN transfer program to allow Special Forces operatives from around the world frontline access in the war. Corporal Danny Callbeck had jumped at the opportunity. At the time, he was an operator in Canada's Joint Task Force 2, the elite special force of Tier 1 soldiers renowned as one of the best units of fighting men in the world. In fact, their training was comparable to the USA's Navy Seals.

While at chow a few months back, Joe had summed up enough courage to ask this unusual addition to the base about his background and ancestry. Danny had been surprisingly open to questions and had answered Joe as best he could. Born in Alert, Nunavut (formerly part of the Northwest Territories) in Canada, Danny's father was serving in the Canadian Signal Corp when he met Danny's mother, a schoolteacher. They were both stationed in Alert, the northernmost regularly inhabited location on the planet. The rest, as Danny had said, was history.

The Ranger and the Tier 1 soldier had formed a unique friendship. The Rangers in the 76th accepted Danny easy enough—the risk of living in a combat zone formed a common bond between the band of brothers. But Danny went one further, proving his mettle throughout the last few months as a reliable and at times frightening adversary in combat. A master of the art of Kenpo—a brutal fighting style focusing on takedowns and harsh hand-to-hand combat—Danny always dominated his comrades in tests of martial skill. This was no better proven than during a 'pro-social' gathering of the Rangers where they each tested each other's martial prowess in one-on-one fights. Corporal Callbeck had soundly defeated every single Ranger in Firebase Foxtrot without a single mark on him.

Joe smiled at his friend, glad this amazing soldier was on their side. "Well Corporal, let's not keep them waiting."

Danny nodded, falling in beside his friend as they made their way towards the motorcade.

One of the other squad leaders, Corporal Jensen, came up beside Joe and Danny as they walked. Jensen was younger than Joe—twenty-five, give or take a year.

"So, Sergeant," Jensen asked, "What did you mean when you said Unidentified Aerial Objects? You mean like...aliens or some shit?"

Joe gave the Corporal a nonplussed look, "Come on, Corporal, don't be dumb."

"I'm just saying, Sergeant...it sounds kinda weird, that's all."

Joe shrugged, "I'd put money on it being CIA drones...classified from even the military. It's probably nothing."

In Joe's peripheral vision, he saw Danny clasp something at the neckline of his combat fatigues.

Corporal Jensen still had questions, "Do you think we'll catch heat on this op, Sarge?"

"Who can tell? Braddock responded, "Our reports are saying Taliban activity is at a record low for this area."

"Fair enough," Jensen retorted, "but what if the towel-heads are waiting to start something new?"

"Use that phrase again, Corporal and you'll be on point every mission for the next week."

Jensen glowered for a moment before responding, "Sorry, Sarge. It was just a question."

The young soldier was right— it was a legit question. Joe responded the only way he could, "We're Rangers, Corporal. You just keep your eyes open and you'll be fine."

* * *

AFTER THE Ranger squads had mustered in front of the Humvee column, the squad leaders performed a quick inspection—checking weapons, flak jackets, and rations. It may very well be a one day op, but with this war, you never knew. Danny Callbeck stood to Joe's side, silently watching the Rangers prepare. During his missions with Joe, the JTF2 soldier tended to stay in the back acting as Joe's right hand during missions.

The general feeling among the higher-ups was that Corporal Callbeck could take care of himself and he certainly could at that. Joe's personality just seemed to click with the guy—they worked off each other on instinct. So Joe had asked the base commander, Lieutenant Colonel Aberman, to assign Danny as his provisional second in command. Aberman at first disapproved of allowing an outsider to have such pull within the Rangers, even provisionally, but Joe managed to convince him that Danny was the man for the job.

After the inspection, Joe looked over his men with an approving eye, "All right boys, MOUNT UP!"

They piled in their vehicles, five per Humvee. Four Rangers sat in seats while a fifth operated the .50 caliber Browning M2 machinegun mounted to a turret above the cab. Joe and Danny hopped into the passenger and driver seat of the lead Humvee, respectively. Danny started the eight-hundred horsepower engine and hit the gas. The Humvee column trundled out of the northern entrance of Firebase Foxtrot.

Joe checked his watch. It was 07:00.

Good. They were on schedule.

Joe clicked the comm unit attached to his collar, connecting him to the radio frequency shared by the squad leaders of the Ranger platoon, "Alright ladies, keep a weather eye. Taliban activity is reported to be limited, but we weren't sent out here for nothing. Check the hills for activity."

Danny operated the Humvee with expert skill, leading the convoy as it powered through the arid waste of the Balkh province towards the Imam Sahib district. Joe fingered his M4A1, resting the weapon butt-down on the floor of the vehicle. Behind him, in the back seat of the Humvee, Privates Gorman and Blackburn sat at the ready. Joe had served with Blackburn for almost two years and had grown to respect the hawk-nosed, mohawk-sporting Ranger. Gorman, on the other hand, was a narrow-minded Midwesterner with bleach-blonde hair and bleary eyes. Joe had a less-than-high opinion of Gorman.

They drove for an hour, with no sign of activity. Several herds of wild gazelles charged through the plains, excited by the large Humvee column. They ran with extraordinary speed, bounding across the steppe to escape from the metallic invaders. It was one of the sights in this harsh country Joe actually loved seeing.

He took a swig of warm water from the plastic bottle stored in the cab. He passed it to Danny, who took a quick drink and then tossed it to the men in the back. Another two hours went by with little event. The arid badlands were beginning to change up into rocky crags. This route would soon transform into the north-eastern mountain system comprised of the Pamir chain, the legendary 'roof of the world'.

Joe removed the map from his rucksack and checked the coordinates. Private Gorman, operating a large suitcase uplink to the NATO predator drone, chimed up from the back seat, "Sergeant, Predator Drone is coming online."

Joe looked back and nodded, "Good, keep your eyes on it. Check the ground within a two-mile radius from the vehicles for any movement."

"Copy that, Sarge, but it's dead out there. Nothing's moving."

Joe smiled to himself.

Good. Maybe this last mission will be a cakewalk after all.

"Alright Private, keep me posted," said Joe, sweeping his eyes across the plain. An annoying bluebottle fly buzzed madly in the cab of the Humvee. Gorman swatted at the fly angrily, to no avail. Joe tried to swish the large bugger out a crack in the bulletproof window, but the pest wouldn't leave. As it buzzed towards Danny Callbeck, the Inuit soldier eyed the fly, waiting with tempered patience. Then, without taking his eyes off the road, Danny flung his hand out and snatched the fly out of the air, trapping it in his palm. The two men in the back scoffed in amazement. Danny held the bug in his clenched hand for a moment before letting it loose to buzz around the cab again. Joe smiled and shook his head.

They rode in silence for a few minutes until Blackburn asked Private Gorman something under his breath, "So are you going to ask him?"

Gorman looked over, an alarmed expression on his pock-marked face, whispered back, "I thought you were?"

"No, you said..."

Joe rolled his eyes, "What the hell are you two babbling about?"

Gorman snapped back in his seat, "Uh, we were just—"

Blackburn interrupted, "—we just had a question about something Corporal Callbeck is carrying."

Joe interrupted the young soldier before he made a complete fool of himself, "And why can you not ask him straight up Private?"

"Umm..."

Gorman elbowed Blackburn, "We were just wondering about Corporal Callbeck's necklace, Sarge. I guess it's because we've never seen anything like it."

Joe looked over at his Canadian driver, "You wanna field this one?"

An amused smile stretched across Danny's face, "It's okay, Joe." He reached into his tunic and pulled out the aforementioned necklace. It was an intricately designed symbol in the shape of what looked like a whale, carved out of some sort of bone. As he drove the Humvee, Danny spoke eloquently about his mysterious charm.

"This is a spirit charm carved from caribou antler. It's a simple ward meant to fend off evil spirits, given to me several years ago by...a great man."

Gorman leaned forward, a curious look on his face, "What kind of evil spirits?"

Danny had to think for a minute how to best explain, "Well, in my people's history, we have lived hard lives...lives of fear, pain and random peril. Spirits that we called anirniit exist in everything...in people and animals, in rocks and plants. Everything has a spirit that is released at the point of death."

Gorman and Blackburn were fascinated by the tale. Joe listened intently as his friend continued to speak.

"Some of the spirits could become angry...like, for example, a caribou we killed could return in spirit form to take its revenge on us in...strange ways. This charm is meant to protect someone from the angered spirits of the things he kills." Danny's voice grew quiet with the last sentence. Joe looked at his friend. The conversation was starting to touch a nerve in his stoic comrade.

Gorman hazarded a question, "Do you believe all that, Sarge?"

Danny seemed to come out of his funk, "Well...most people from where I come from have embraced Christianity, but...my father still clung to the old ways and he always wanted to see me protected. I suppose it seems like little more than a superstition, but—" he looked over at Joe, a wry smile on his lips, "—all myths have some basis in reality."

* * *

ANOTHER HALF hour passed. The men were getting sore asses and Joe was about to call a temporary halt for a quick break.

Danny spoke up, pointing at a place on the horizon. "Braddock, check that out!"

Joe snapped too, looking to where Danny was indicating. A plume of black smoke wafted up from the horizon. He keyed his mic, "Eyes up everyone, contact to the northeast."

The Humvees powered towards the smoke, prepared for anything.

Joe yelled back to Gorman, "What's the Predator showing, Private?"

"Uhhh...nothing right now, Sarge. The smoke is obscuring the location."

"Come on, Private, give me something better than that!"

Gorman searched the heads-up-display in vain for any info he could get. "Uh...it looks like some sort of...I think it's a village. Several of the buildings are burning!"

Joe's heart started to pound. The villages on the northern border had been hotly contested during the Northern campaign several years ago, but things had been relatively quiet lately.

Joe hit the comm, "Ok people, stay frosty! We're going in for a look. Follow our lead and prepare to secure the site. Be careful, these guys are friendlies."

Danny looked at Joe quizzically, "What do you think happened?"

"Who knows? Taliban incursion from Uzbekistan maybe?"

As the Humvee column approached the smoke, Joe could tell it was indeed a small village, consisting of several ramshackle buildings clustered in among the hills of the open steppe. It was in ruins now—the small huts burning wildly like unkempt bonfires.

With the turret gunners watching their backs, the Rangers stormed out of their vehicles to secure the location. Private Gorman stayed inside the lead Humvee, eyes fixed on the Predator suitcase laptop.

Joe led the platoon towards the village, running up the gentle slope of the hill. As the Rangers approached their target, they raised their weapons, keeping their eyes open to spot enemy contacts or IEDs.

Joe yelled to Danny, who had fallen in with Corporal Jensen's squad to search the opposite side of the village, "Any survivors?"

Danny shook his head. "Nothing here, Sergeant. Just bodies."

The remains of what appeared to be several Afghani villagers burned beyond recognition lay scattered around the village. Joe made an arm gesture for Second Squad to search the far end of the village, as he made his way back to Danny.

After a few minutes, Joe was satisfied that whatever had done this had long since left. He assigned Second Squad to check the perimeter of the village for IEDs, before bringing in First Squad to take photos of the destruction for JOC. Danny made his way over to Joe, stepping over the charred remains of a young Afghani male.

Joe looked up at his friend, "What the hell happened here?"

Danny shook his head, "It looks to me like someone had quite the beef with these guys, Joe."

Braddock pointed at the damaged buildings, "Look at the rock...it's been melted down to nothing. What weapon could have done that?"

Danny thought for a minute, "Phosphorous?"

Joe shook his head, kneeling over one of the grisly corpses: an older woman by the look of it. Joe set his teeth firmly, wincing at the horrible smell of charred flesh, "No, phosphorous has a garlic smell to it and this isn't it. I think it's some sort of napalm or other fast-burning incendiary chemical."

Danny knelt, gently touching part of the cadaver's still visible clothing, "How did the Taliban get its hands on napalm? And why would they use it on a defenseless village?"

"Sergeant Braddock!"

The shout came from behind the next house down from them, also burned to a molten sludge. It was Corporal Jensen's voice. Joe and Danny stood up and rushed over to the young Squad Leader, mindful of their surroundings. Jensen was squatted over the immobile form of an Afghani man, horribly burned but still moving.

"Sarge, this fella's alive!"

Jensen stood up to allow Joe to take his place facing the horrifically wounded man. He was in his older forties, with a simple beard, common to all Afghan males. His eyes were glazed over from the pain. Joe doubted the man could see anything. His legs were scorched completely away and the rest of his body was covered in burns.

This man did not have long.

"Sir, can you hear me?" Joe asked in his halting Pashto, the language spoken by most of the indigenous people of Northern Afghanistan. His grasp of the language wasn't perfect by a long shot, but it was good enough to handle a short conversation.

Oddly enough, the Afghani spoke back to him in English, a rarity this far north.

"They were demons...from hell..."

"Was it the Taliban? Did they do this?" asked Joe, not wasting any time.

The man shook his burn-scarred head, "No...they were...from hell...Allah save us..." The Ranger medic, Private Tennyson, came running up behind Joe, his corpsman satchel prepared. He knelt by the man and inspected the wounds. He looked at Joe and shook his head.

"He's burned awful, Sarge...I don't know how he survived this long."

The man started to cough, a horrible choking sound. He managed to clear it up to mumble another phrase of nonsense, "They...flew like...birds...burned us...my family...it is our judgment come for us..."

"Why did they do this to your village?" Danny asked, his face solemn in the face of death.

The dying man pointed at one of the burned-out buildings, saying, "We...found... _something_."

Joe gestured to Danny. The Canadian nodded and motioned for two of the soldiers from First Squad to follow him to the burned hut. Joe looked back at the poor villager, who was coughing violently. The man wheezed one final time, then gagged. Joe held the man's blackened hand as the Afghani gripped it tight in his death throe. He jolted violently in severe pain, opened his mouth as if to say something further, but instead let out his final breath and lay still. Joe set the man's hand back on his chest and stood up. The other men in the squad were quiet, each man harboring their own fears and doubts over what had befallen these poor people.

Joe took a deep breath before issuing his orders, "Alright boys, we're still wide open out here so let's wrap this up. Make sure the area is well photographed and move back to the Humvees—we're movin' out."

The men were relieved at that last part. As they went about their Sergeant's orders, Joe saw Danny motion for him to join them at the burned-out home, "You'd better take a look at this, Joe!"

Braddock hustled over. He immediately saw what the Afghani man had meant by 'something'. Lying amidst the rubble of the destroyed building was the remains of some sort of UAV or unmanned aerial vehicle. It was heavily damaged by the fire but was still recognizable. To Joe, it resembled a Sikorsky Cypher—an advanced aerial drone used for surveillance. Oddly, it was not the typical white color most aerial drones were painted, but a strange obsidian black that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight.

Joe looked at Danny, inquisitively, "What the hell is that?"

"Some sort of UAV, I think," Danny answered, He reached out and tested the surface of the device with his hand. It was hot, but the Canadian's gloves were adequate to move the device for a better look. Danny asked Private Jensen to give him a quick hand. Together, the two men managed to haul the large machine up for a better inspection. The UAV was shaped like a pylon, with a circular engine built into the bottom which provided the lift through two opposing rotors. Danny noticed something on the inside of the pylon structure and squinted to get a better view.

"What is it?" asked Joe.

"Some sort of logo...very small. It looks like letters spelling..." Danny squinted harder, trying to read from the awkward position, "...O-P-M-C."

"OPMC?" Joe frowned. "What the hell is that?"

Danny Callbeck shrugged, "Never heard of it. PMC though...that could mean Private Military Company."

Joe scowled. "Great. The last thing we need now is some ass-hat PMC making trouble along the border." Joe gave Corporal Jensen a command to photograph the UAV in detail, and then head back to the trucks. Joe stood back up and motioned Danny to follow him.

As they passed the remains of the dead Afghani villager, Danny spoke quietly to Joe, "What do you think he meant about 'flew like birds'?"

Joe shook his head, "Beats me. All I know is this is no way for anyone to die. This was our district and these people would have been under our protection if it wasn't for this damn withdrawal."

A wry look spread across the Canadian's face, "It's not our fight anymore, Joe. Command never really meant for us to find anything out here, you know that. Isn't this the Afghan military's problem now?"

"Come on, Corporal, you know as well as I do they wouldn't be able to deal with whatever did this. They'll just shunt it to the background and hope it goes away. "

Danny sighed, "Ok then, what's your plan?"

Joe sucked his lower lip, a trait from childhood he'd never been able to give up. An idea suddenly hit him. He readied his M4A1 and jogged past Danny up towards the top of the hill the small village was perched on. Danny, thinking his friend had lost his mind, followed suit.

"Joe, what are you doing? There might be snipers out here!"

Disregarding his friend's warnings, Joe rushed up the remaining forty feet of the hill to stand at the top. Spread in front of them, to the north of the burning village, was the final wide expanse of the Northern Afghanistan steppe. Beyond it was the beginning of the Pamir mountain range. And from there...

"Kazinistan..." said Joe, putting the pieces together.

Danny reached the top of the hill to hear Joe say the word. "What are you talking about?"

"Let me tell you what I think happened here," Joe said, excitement in his voice, "I think the Kazinistanis have hired some sort of Private Army, maybe to protect its borders from Taliban infiltration or something, who knows? Remember those reports of Unidentified Aerial Objects? Well here they are," He jerked a thumb back towards the burned village, "these poor fools find one of their precious UAVs and take it back to the village. This 'OPMC', or whatever it is, rather than risk unwanted questions from the Afghanistan military, torches the village."

Danny wasn't convinced, "Okay, let's say for a minute that's correct...why did they just leave the UAV here? And what PMC in the Middle East has access to napalm incendiaries?"

Joe hadn't thought of that. "Well...it is just a theory. We're not going to know more until we go and take a look." Joe started back down the hill towards the Humvee column.

Danny suddenly realized what his friend meant, "Wait...take a look? What do you mean?"

"I mean we check out the Kazinistani border. Maybe whoever did this is still around."

Danny, always the cautious one, asked, "Why don't we just send the Predator to scout the area?"

Joe shook his head, "The Predator can't go within five miles of any country bordering Afghanistan. HQ would override control and we'd have hell to pay."

Danny sighed. "There's going to be hell-to-pay if we spark a border skirmish with another country over a hunch."

Joe smiled, amused at his friend's reticence. It was a trait he admired in his Canadian comrade, but sometimes action was the name of the day, "Risk is part of the game, Corporal Callbeck."

Danny was about to say more, then thought better of it. Taking a long breath, he fell in behind Joe as they picked up the pace towards the waiting Humvee column.

### Chapter 2

Storming the Steppe

Two Miles from the Kazinistani Border

AS THE Humvee column approached the border of the neighboring country of Kazinistan, the endless steppe of Afghanistan gave way to the mountainous crags of the red-brown Pamir Mountains. There was just enough of a dirt path for the Humvees to traverse to make the trip tolerable for the time being. Joe recalled a friend of his telling him the history of the legendary Pamir Mountain chain and how it had been traversed by Alexander the Great. Two-thousand years ago, the legendary Macedonian ruler led an army across the inhospitable terrain to hunt down Darius, the defeated Persian king.

It gave Joe goosebumps to be so close to a place so utterly steeped in historical antiquity. He glanced at Danny, who was focused on the road ahead. Joe noticed his left hand would sometimes move to his chest, presumably to remind himself of the charm he wore under his tunic.

"What are you thinking, Corporal?" asked Joe.

Danny smiled grimly, and shook his head, "Nothing important, just...a feeling."

"I hate when you get those," Joe said, scanning the horizon again. Still no signs of any activity, human or otherwise.

From the backseat, Private Gorman looked up from the Predator laptop, and said quizzically, "Sarge, there's something...." he trailed off, busy with the controls.

"What's wrong, Private?" asked Joe.

"...I, uh, just lost the Predator feed." The Private typed furiously at the laptop, even going as far to knock it with his hand.

Joe frowned, the hairs on his neck standing up. "What do you mean 'lost it'?"

"It...it just cut out, Sarge! There's nothing coming through."

Joe clicked the comm connected to his helmet, "Eagle Command, come in, this is Foxtrot Column, over."

There was no answer. Joe repeated the phrase.

Nothing.

He looked inquisitively at Danny, who switched on his comm, "This is Corporal Callbeck. Anyone reading on this frequency, come in, this is Foxtro..."

BOOM!

In the blink of an eye, the Humvee directly behind Joe's vehicle was slammed hard by an unknown force. The vehicle instantly erupted into a giant fireball, killing every man aboard. The concussive power of the explosion was so strong, it blew out the bulletproof windows of the lead Humvee. Joe shielded his eyes, but several pieces of glass scratched his cheek, opening a bloody wound.

Private Gorman yelled out as the Predator suitcase flew from his hands, "Jesus Christ, what the hell was that?"

Private Blackburn, holding a hand against a bloody shrapnel wound on his arm, yelled to Joe, "Was that an IED? Jesus, was that an IED?"

Danny reflexively hit the brakes. They had been traveling around thirty miles per hour due to the rocky terrain and the sudden stop shoved the men forward in their seats. After the inertia caught up with them, Joe managed a quick breath before keying the comm unit at his shoulder, barking out, "Fourth Squad Leader, was that an IED?"

Corporal Jensen's voice came back, shouting over the comm. Thankfully, whatever had affected the command communication was not affecting their local comlinks.

" _We've got men down Joe! We're in an ambush_!" Jensen's voice was full of panic.

Joe hit the comm to respond, "Lay down suppressing fire and find out what's out there!"

A loud wooshing sound echoed above their Humvee. To Joe, it sounded like some sort of jet engine. The loud noise roared overhead and seemed to hold its position directly above them. Joe tried to look through the busted windshield, but couldn't see anything.

Suddenly a massive explosion burst from the rear column. Joe hit the comm, shouting "Corporal Jensen!"

No response.

"Corporal Jensen, respond!"

A plume of flame rose from where the tail Humvee had once been. Jensen and his squad were gone.

Danny shouted to Joe, "They're boxing us in! Whatever's out there is picking us off one by one!"

Adrenaline was charging through Joe's veins. He looked out the passenger window. They were currently in a shallow canyon of semi-steep hills. About one-hundred feet to the east, up the gentle slope, was a copse of trees—better protection than the weapon magnets they were sitting in.

Joe hit the comlink and shouted, "All units, ditch the Humvees! Make your way up the east hill!" He opened the passenger door and got out, staying low, M4A1 at the ready. "Stagger formation, don't give whatever's out there a clear target!"

As Joe's boots hit the ground, a shape to the north caught his eye. A large aircraft was hovering over them, rotating around their position. The glare from the sun was making it difficult to discern the aircraft as anything more than a large, black glob in the sky.

As Joe ran up to stand beside Danny, he tapped his friend's shoulder and pointed. "What the hell is that?"

Danny was at a loss for words. Suddenly, the aircraft seemed to change shape and get larger...and louder.

"Shit, it's coming back! Everybody run!" Joe pushed the Canadian commando ahead of him and they charged up the hill. The surviving Rangers leaped from their vehicles and made a mad dash up the knoll towards the temporary safety of the dense grove of trees. An ear-splitting crack split the sky as the aircraft fired again, this time sending forth a discharge of some sort of combustible fire that ignited the entire Humvee column in its wake. The cataclysm of flame and explosive force caught at least two of the Rangers, incinerating them in a rapid oxidation. The entire canyon pass they had been driving in only two minutes prior was now a blazing inferno.

The shock of the concussion fire was enough to blast Joe off his feet, sending him face-first into the rocky hillside. He could feel the intense heat ripping across his back. The Ranger helmet on his head was sent flying. He would later thank himself that he had neglected to fasten his brain bucket, else his head would have still been inside as it flew.

Joe turned his head to see the inferno swallow up another of his Ranger brothers, scorching the hapless soldier as he tried to run. Joe squeezed his eyes shut, the rage of loss pummelling him relentlessly.

It was so hot, he thought he must have been caught in the flames and that they were now encircling him—incinerating his body for his failure in leading his troops safely on a mission that should have been a cakewalk.

A firm hand grabbed Joe by the shoulder and turned him over onto his back.

The hand belonged to Danny. His friend's face seemed from another world to Joe's addled mind.

"Come on, Braddock, get up!" Danny hoisted the Ranger roughly to his feet. He pushed Joe forward, towards the trees where the survivors of the platoon waited. Still out of sorts, Joe spun back to look at the Humvee column. The flames had risen and engulfed the entire canyon, melting everything in sight. The spectacle burned its way into Joe's soul. Turning back, he pushed himself up the hill where the survivors were regrouping under the copse of trees.

Reaching the grove, Joe saw that a small triage had been set up by Corporal Tennyson, the platoon medic. At least five Rangers had been hurriedly laid out along the ground, covered with burns and shrapnel wounds.

Danny peered out at the sky. The attacking aircraft was nowhere in sight.

Private Gorman, his M-1 Carbine at the ready, looked at Joe, "Sarge, where'd it go?"

Joe's head was still spinning from the fire put down upon them by that unholy machine flying above. He could barely stand, let alone think, "I...I 'm guessing it's bugging out for now."

Gorman's face twisted in fear, "What the hell was that Sarge? Why did it attack us?"

Joe's mind finally snapped back to reality.

"I...I don't know." Standing up to his full height, Braddock spoke to his men, "Whoever these bastards are doesn't matter. They want us dead and I'm going to keep you guys alive."

Blackburn had settled behind Gorman, resting on one knee. His arm was slick with blood from the shrapnel wound he'd received in the Humvee. "Do you think they're Taliban, Sergeant?"

Joe shot an incredulous look to the Private, "Do the Taliban you know have VTOL aircraft and incendiary weapons? Whoever these assholes are, we've pissed them off royally!" Joe went to switch on the comm but saw it was sparking, damaged from the force of the explosion, "Dammit! Try the comm again, see if the reception's returned!"

Gorman worked quickly. The private switched on his comm and hailed Command. No response. He tried again. "Come in Firebase Foxtrot! Come in on all channels!"

Static.

Danny keyed his mic.

No response. Just dead air. The comms were still down.

Joe shook his head.

Not good.

He ordered Danny to do a headcount. Of the forty Rangers in the initial platoon, only twenty-nine remained.

Eleven men. Dead just like that.

There were three seriously wounded Rangers in triage and several others were suffering concussions from the explosion. They were looking at him to make the right call.

But before he could do that, the whole situation went straight to hell.

Callbeck yelled to Joe, "Sergeant, eyes up to the north. We have incoming!"

The Rangers readied their weapons, preparing to finally take the fight to their ambushers. Joe knelt beside Danny, pulling out his binoculars to look at what his friend was pointing at.

Coming towards them like bats from hell were half a dozen figures dressed in heavy armor, flying in the sky. Each man was strapped into what looked like a pair of wings, propelled forward by some sort of jetpack. To Joe, they appeared to be some kind of trooper. In their arms were massive obsidian-black assault rifles Joe had never seen before. He dropped the binoculars and aimed his M4A1 carbine, using the trunk of a tree as cover.

Joe was dumbfounded. "What in the name of Christ are those?" he asked to no one in particular.

Danny put his C-7 assault rifle to eye level, and said cryptically, " _Demons that fly like birds..."_

The other Rangers readied their weapons as well, awaiting the order to fire from their Sergeant.

"Easy guys. Let them get a bit closer. Easy..." Joe tried to assess the distance between the troopers and his men for an optimum firing range.

The Rangers prepared for action. Joe glanced briefly at Danny, who looked back—an icy look in his eyes. Joe nodded to his friend. _Time for payback_. As soon as it looked like the troopers were within several hundred feet, Joe yelled out his simple command:

"Open fire!"

The Rangers opened up with their weapons, gunfire exploding from the trees towards the invading force. Through the scope of his rifle, Joe could see his bullets finding their marks. Several flashes of metal ricocheted off the armor the flying troopers were wearing but did not seem to harm them. _What the hell were they wearing?_

"Keep up the fire!" Joe yelled over the din of gunfire.

The Rangers discharged their carbines and assault rifles. Many hit their marks but did little to no damage. Danny squinted through the sight of his C-7 rifle scope, sucked in his breath, and squeezed. The bullet rang out and hit one of the flying soldiers in the visor of his helmet. The trooper's weapon dropped from his hands as his body went limp. Without its operator, the jetpack began an unruly dance across the sky, propelling the man through the air like a champagne cork. Finally, the direction of the jetpack brought the soldier into the rocky surface of the northern hills and exploded in a massive blue-orange plume of fire that incinerated the body of the hapless trooper.

The Rangers gave a quick cheer. Joe smiled broadly, "That's how you do it!"

Danny kept up the fire, simultaneously yelling, "Aim for the helmet, they're weak in the eyes!"

The Ranger's moment of success was short-lived. The jetpack troopers were now close enough to use their weapons. Leveling them, they let loose a massive barrage of concussive gunfire that wracked the tree line, ripping apart the foliage with shocking force. Whatever these guns were, they were unlike any Joe had ever seen. Explosions detonated all around the Rangers, obscuring their line of sight. Behind Joe, a blast of gunfire smelted two more Privates, dissolving their bodies like wax figures.

Joe realized what the flying troopers were planning. All they had to do was fly above the copse of trees, where visibility was almost nil for the Rangers, and rain down fire upon them until everyone was dead—or they gave up.

Joe knew they were rapidly running out of options. He judged the distance from their current position to the edge of the northern mountains as being around two-hundred meters—an eternity to run under fire towards. There was no other cover anywhere behind or beside them.

The north was the only choice.

They would stand a better chance of defending if they were in the lowland crags of the Pamir Mountains then they would clustered here ready to be picked off one by one. He decided to run it by Danny.

"Callbeck, we're going to pull out and make a run for the northern mountains."

The Canadian seemed to think for a short moment, gauging the risk, "It's up to you, Sergeant. They'll pick us off here in no time if we stay!"

The medic, Corporal Tennyson, piped up behind Joe, "Sarge, what about the wounded?"

"We'll have to carry them!"

"Some of these boys are hurt bad, Joe—" Tennyson said with deep concern, "—they could die."

Joe made up his mind, "If they stay here, they will die! Danny, choose ten men and form a new squad. You'll be our cover. The rest of the men will grab anyone who can't move under their own power. We all move at once, hooah?"

"HOOAH!" shouted the Rangers in reply. Danny ran from his cover and began selecting the new defensive squad from the best shooters.

Abruptly, the weapons fire from the jetpack troopers stopped. Joe could still hear the whine of their flight packs, but for the moment they were weapons silent.

"Get ready to move. Danny, your squad's designated Alpha, everyone else is designated Bravo team, got it?"

Danny nodded, reloading his C-7.

Joe checked his rifle. He was still good for ammo, with at least four extra magazines and his sidearm—a 9mm Beretta. Joe jogged over to the triage area and grabbed one of the wounded, hoisting him to his feet. It was Private Rybak, a good kid from Tennessee that Joe had had little time to get to know. He was bleeding from a nasty head wound caused by shrapnel and unable to walk without aid. Joe hoisted the man onto his back.

Ready or not, this was it.

Joe joined the rest of his men as they prepared to run towards the mountains. He was breathing hard. Joe had no idea if this would work but, all things considered, it was the only option.

His men were as ready as they'd ever be.

"Alright...ready...RUN!"

The Rangers were off, double-time running into the grasslands. The flying troopers were nowhere in sight, but the faint echo of their jetpacks resounded south of the tree copse. Squad Alpha, who Danny had positioned surrounding the triaged soldiers, kept their weapons trained, waiting for any sign of the flying sons-of-bitches.

"Here they come!" yelled Joe, spotting the first of the flying troopers swooping in from behind them. Alpha squad swung around and began firing, reducing their speed as they were forced to move backward. The five remaining jet troopers were coming in fast, weapons ready.

"Come on guys! Run!" screamed Joe as loud as he could.

They weren't making good enough time.

The jetpack troopers opened fire. The powerful weapons tore through three of the rear Alpha squad Rangers. Awkwardly, Joe swung himself to face the hovering enemies, drew a bead on the closest trooper, and opened fire. His M4A1 set to full-auto, he emptied the entire clip at the bastard.

You guys think you're hot shit? Try some of this!

Joe saw the bullets clip the trooper and rip what must have been sensitive equipment on the jetpack. The entire trooper and his pack exploded in an enormous fireball. Two down, but still four to go.

They were over halfway towards the nearest mountain. The Troopers let off another salvo, catching one of the Bravo squad soldiers and the wounded man he was carrying. They were incinerated in a blaze of hot concussive fire. The smoke and heat from the repeated blasts of fire caused tears to well in Joe's eyes, obscuring his vision.

So close. Keep going, you can make it!

One of the Rangers running to Joe's right squeezed off a flurry of gunfire, catching a jet trooper on its wing. The jetpack awkwardly pitched and yawed, then lost control. The trooper flailed against the machine desperately but to no avail. The pack flew straight up into the air then made an immediate one-eighty and propelled the hapless fool into the ground head first at over two-hundred miles an hour. A flash of flame later, nothing remained.

Joe made a quick tally. He judged they had lost five more in the run. Danny ran towards Joe, shouting as he went, "We're in bad shape here!"

"No kidding!" Joe replied, gritting his teeth. A moan from Ryback told Joe he needed to hurry.

As Danny ran, he pointed at a rocky outcropping jutting out from the closest mountain, "We'll take shelter there! We can at least make a stand!"

Joe nodded, "Do it!"

Danny called out to his men, "Alright, Alpha team, we're heading to that outcropping! Double time now!"

It was starting to look like they could make it. The three jet troopers were beginning to feel the force of the gunfire through their armor and were backing off. It seemed they needed a close range to fire those concussion weapons. If the platoon could make it to the cover of the mountains, they could reform and deliver a challenging offense.

But a moment later, a familiar sound to the north of them quashed Joe's hopes.

A terrifying whine announced the return of the black VTOL jet as it swooped down towards the injured Ranger platoon, weapons at the ready. To Joe, it almost resembled a dragonfly—with large wings and rotating engines that spat blue flame from them, propelling the craft forwards.

NO! NO!

The feeling of failure was worse than death. Joe knew this was it, "Weapons free! Get to the mountains!"

The Rangers unloaded on the approaching VTOL aircraft, but their low caliber weapons could not penetrate the obsidian armor surrounding it. The aircraft began firing its powerful arsenal of incendiary rounds. Furious bolts of flame burst around the Rangers like explosive volcanoes, erupting in massive flashes of red-hot fire. Three soldiers were killed in the initial burst, the explosive volleys tossing them like ragdolls through the air.

"Run!" screamed Joe, hefting Private Ryback firmly on his shoulder.

The Rangers charged full out, with everything they had and more.

Time seemed to slow for Joe Braddock. The world became abstract, as if in a dream. To his right he saw Privates Gorman and Thomas erupt in a blaze of concussive gunfire, their bodies blown apart. Joe ran but his feet felt like lead. It felt like he was going backward, his body heavy with guilt. This was his command and now it was all coming apart in the worst possible way.

Three more Rangers on his right were hit by the aircraft gunfire, igniting their bodies with ease. The soldiers twisted where they were like marionettes with their strings cut in a horrible dance of fiery death before pitching to the ground.

Suddenly Joe's world turned upside down when a blast raked the ground beside him, throwing him off his feet. Joe watched in fascination as he was thrown through the air. He landed hard on his back and lay there stunned. He felt another body hit the ground. Private Ryback had landed beside him, his head bent towards Joe, eyes staring at him...lifeless. The eyes accused Joe.

This was it.

_This is where you will die, Joseph Braddock_.

* * *

AND THEN Danny was by his side.

The Canadian grabbed Joe by the collar and pulled him up, yelling, "On your feet, Joe!"

Still holding his friend with one hand, Danny Callbeck fired his C-7 at the nearest Trooper. His bullets struck true, exploding the flight pack. The fiery remains plummeted to the Earth in a shower of blazing debris and gruesome body parts.

Time snapped back for Joe Braddock. He looked around for his platoon. The steppe leading to the mountain was so full of smoke and fire, he couldn't see anything. Ahead of them, the tips of the mountains loomed close. The crag Joe had seen earlier was also barely in view. They were only a hundred feet give or take. Danny pushed him on, forcing Joe to forget his pain and anguish, at least for the moment. The Canadian's steel resolve gave Joe strength. He pushed himself forward.

He'd lost his M4A1, having been thrown from his hand by the force of the last explosion. Joe withdrew his Berretta M9 as he ran, trying in vain to see through the thick clouds of smoke. He could hardly hear a thing. More explosions cracked behind them, but Joe and Danny pushed forward.

I can see the crags...so close...

A whirring engine sound behind them warned Joe too late of the final attack from the VTOL aircraft. Joe twisted around and fired blindly towards the noise. Useless, he knew, but it was all he had left. A flurry of concussive blasts burst in front of him. Joe was thrown off his feet again.

This time, he couldn't have gotten up if he wanted too.

The explosion had hit directly in front of Danny. Too late to duck them, the flames sheared the Canadian soldier's face and shrapnel pierced his body. He collapsed on the ground beside Joe, bleeding out. Losing consciousness, Joe managed to turn his head to look at his friend. Danny held a wavering hand over his throat, blood oozing from what must be a mortal wound. His breathing came in fits and gurgles. His eyes were shut tight as blood seeped through his lids in rivulets of crimson.

Joe winced at the sight. His friend's gallantry had only bought them mere seconds.

The havoc surrounding them began to die down. The smoke from battle wafted over Joe, obscuring the blue sky.

No more doubt, Joe. This is the end.

And the world went black for Joe Braddock.

### Chapter 3

Meet and Greet

Somewhere in the Pamir Mountains

JOE'S FIRST physical act upon waking was to throw up. A glance around his surroundings showed him a bedpan lying nearby. Snatching it, he emptied the contents of his stomach with one woeful retch after another. His second act was to feel more pain wrack his body than ever before in his life.

Was he dead? Was this the afterlife?

No, if it was, the first thing he would have done wouldn't have been to throw up all over it. He was still alive for the time being.

He was lying in an old Army cot, set up in what appeared at first glance to be a prison. Bandages, sticky with blood, were wrapped around his head and right forearm. He gingerly moved the dressing up from his arm to check the severity of the wound. Bad, but cleaned and healing. His Ranger uniform was gone, as well as his flak jacket and anything else. They'd even taken his dog tags. He was dressed in his white undershirt and his torn, battered fatigues. His boots and socks had also been removed.

The cell he was in was about twelve feet long and ten feet wide, give or take. All of the walls were comprised of hard concrete, molded over by what looked like decades of neglect. His nose remembered how to smell and the rank stench of filth and carrion assaulted him. A series of high-pitched squeaks echoed around the cell.

_Rats,_ Joe thought with disgust. He hated rats with a passion borne of childhood terror. From what he could see, his cell was vermin free, so he let out a sigh of relief.

The prison room's only natural light source was from a tiny window almost ten feet up. It was wide open to the elements, but also useless in an escape as it measured two-thirds of a foot across and even less wide. A massive iron door separated him from freedom. The door looked firm and well built, with no easy way of escape, save removing the hinges somehow.

Joe pulled himself out of bed. His body hurt worse than he could ever remember. Whoever had dumped him in here hadn't done much to help that.

My men! Were any still alive?

The question popped into Joe's mind so fast, his heart skipped. Ignoring the pain, he pulled himself to his feet and walked gingerly over to the iron door. A tiny barred window opened out into the hallway. He pushed his face up close to it, trying to see as much of his surroundings as possible.

The outer hallway only showed him more cells. Further down the hall, the cells were entirely made up of iron bars, rather than enclosed, like his. Several obscure shapes moved within.

_There are other prisoners besides me_ , Joe told himself.

Suddenly, an armored gauntlet from outside the cell smashed Joe in the face, forcing him to lose his balance and fall flat on his back. A stream of blood spewed from his nose. He wiped at it helplessly as the blood streamed down onto his white T-shirt. A large helmeted figure looked through the window on the cell door, staring at Joe with alien, mechanical eyes.

"Don't be getting nosey Sergeant. You may not live to regret it." From what Joe saw, the trooper was wearing body armor very similar to the flying soldiers that had destroyed his platoon. It gave Joe the impression of stormtrooper armor used by German commandos in World War 2. But what was truly frightening about the trooper were those terrifying mechanical eyes, positioned and designed in such a way as to provoke as much fear from the enemy as possible.

"Where am I? How long have I been here?"

The trooper did not immediately answer. _Probably wondering what he should tell the prisoner_ , thought Joe, pulling himself up to a sitting position on the floor of his cell. He decided to press the question.

"Who are you people?"

The trooper seemed to hesitate before responding to only one of Joe's question, "We are Olympus, Sergeant. That is all you need to know for now. Get comfortable. Once the commander arrives, your day will really get interesting."

Joe scowled as he got to his feet. As he did, the trooper slid a metal latch on the outer door and pulled an iron plate across the small window, blocking it completely. He tried to judge his location. It felt hotter than a snake's ass, so he assumed he was either in Afghanistan still or close by. _Kazinistan_? Maybe. There was no way to tell.

Joe suddenly realized he was unbelievably thirsty. His mouth tasted like a urinal, and hunger pangs twisted his guts. He looked around the room, taking in all the details. Besides his cot and bedpan, there was nothing else. His cot didn't even have sheets. He reasoned wherever he was had been here a while. _If I'm in Kazinistan or any of the other old Soviet bloc countries, this could be a military fort_. That jived with the age of the door and concrete.

Wherever he was, he wouldn't be going anywhere soon. He thought back to his Ranger training, specifically what his instructors had mentioned about being taken prisoner. In Joe's entire service in the Ranger corps, it suddenly hit him that he'd never really lost a fight.

First time for everything.

All he could do was improvise, adapt, and overcome. An old Marine motto that worked in this situation just fine.

After a half-hour of searching every inch of the room, Joe found little of note. The cell was made up of heavy cement block construction that would take a C4 charge to damage. It was an efficiently constructed prison that did its job well.

A sound from outside the tiny window pulled Joe's attention away from his searching. It was the hum of an aircraft engine. VTOL most likely—the engine rush was for certain a type of jet. The sound became louder, as if the aircraft was coming in for a landing overhead.

Must be one of those black-colored aircraft that attacked us.

Joe looked up at the window, judging the distance. He pulled the cot over and braced himself on it. He knew it would hurt his wounds, but he had to see where he was. He bent his knees and jumped.

He caught the window ledge with a fraction of an inch to spare. The wound in his arm tore open, blood seeping out.

Screw it! You're tough. Suck it up.

His muscles screamed as he pulled himself up towards the window. Finally his eyes reached the sill and he peered out into the light.

It was midday, judging by the sun. The exterior of the complex was definitely a fortress of some sort. Beyond, the unmistakable Pamir Mountain range spread out as far as he could see.

I'm in the mountains...in an old fort, probably from World War II.

Well that was good to know. His arms were buckling now. He couldn't hold on much longer. He saw several groups of the so-called Olympus soldiers walking on patrol outside. The VTOL aircraft he had heard was not in his line of sight, but Joe could still hear it out there. There were also lines of vehicles parked along the shaded end of the fort: Humvees, jeeps, and other assorted trucks.

Suddenly, Joe's arms gave out. He dropped down from his hanging position and slipped on the cot. He fell back heavily, dropping roughly to the ground. Joe lay there for a time, not knowing whether it was worth getting up. A half-mad laugh escaped his lips—a small chuckle of insanity that he just couldn't keep bottled up. After what felt like hours, he managed to lift himself off the floor and onto the cot.

He had to think. The Lieutenant Colonel of Firebase Foxtrot had to know about the attack. The Coalition would mount an investigation and rescue.

_But that could take days...if not weeks._ _I can't rely on them. We need to break out now before it's too late._

Joe put his hand over his eyes and breathed steadily. _Focus_. He needed more information. He needed to know about his platoon...

Danny!

Joe opened his eyes. Was he dead too? Joe's last memory of his friend was him lying on the ground, bleeding from several grievous wounds. He didn't want to believe it but...

No. He had to be alive. There is no way Danny Callbeck would leave this earth so easily.

Abruptly, Joe heard the approaching sound of voices from outside the door. Making a fast decision, he curled up on the cot, facing away from the door. _Pretend to be asleep. Get somebody close-up_.

Joe waited. He heard a key being turned in the door lock.

Get ready.

The door opened wide. A voice like a mutated bear growled, "On your feet, Sergeant!"

Joe didn't move.

"I said on your feet! Get him up!"

Joe could hear at least two distinct sets of footsteps entering the room.

Wait for it...

He felt a hand grab his shoulder.

NOW!

Joe twisted out from his possum position, grabbing the arm of the soldier touching him. With all his might he pulled the trooper across his back and into the wall behind him. The trooper's helmet connected with the concrete, dropping him to the ground stunned.

The other trooper wasn't far behind. Joe saw the armored soldier bearing over him with his rifle to no doubt bash his brains in. Joe pulled his leg back and kicked the bastard as hard in the balls as he could. Surprisingly the armor there wasn't as strong as everywhere else and the trooper made an amusing bleating noise as he pitched forward in excruciating pain.

Joe's success was short-lived. A massive figure entered the room and jabbed a device into Joe's chest. Fifty-thousand volts of electricity arched through his body as the taser jolted his muscles into an uncontrollable spasm. The world around Joe seized up and his mind ceased to function for the duration of the stun. He doubled over to the floor amidst the other downed troopers.

The figure spoke, his voice calm with menace, "Outstanding work, you fools. You let a wounded soldier KO not one, but both of you at the same time."

The soldiers let out collective groans and pulled themselves to their feet. The one Joe had kicked, gingerly held his groin. The other trooper gave Joe a sharp kick to the gut, causing the stunned Army Ranger to gasp in pain.

The giant barked at the trooper, "Belay that, Centurion! We need this man in one piece. Stand him up. I wish to look at him."

The groin-smacked Centurion protested, "Please, Commander Dante, he hit me in the ba..."

"I don't like giving orders more than once, Centurion."

"Y...Yessir!" said the trooper, still prodding his nethers in pain.

The voice repeated, "Now pick him up!"

The Centurions pulled Joe to his feet. His head bobbed to one side—his muscles scarcely able to hold it in place. Joe's whole world was spinning and the pain had tripled throughout his body. Through his blurred eyesight, Joe could make out the giant reading something held in his meaty hand.

"Sergeant Joseph Braddock. Good to make your acquaintance."

_He has my dog tags_ , Joe realized.

To enforce his words, the figure smashed a gloved backhand across Joe's face. His bloodied nose burst open again and Joe felt a tooth cut his lip. His head leaned forward and a torrent of blood poured from his mouth. The two Centurions' held him up, making him pliant to their master's assault.

Dante grabbed Joe by the hair and shook his head violently. "No no, my friend, don't pass out yet!"

Joe coughed out more blood. His vision slowly began to clear and he finally saw the leader of this troop of mercenary asshats.

The man called Dante was huge—so huge he hardly fit through the cell doorframe. He must be nearly seven feet, thought Joe as he looked the giant over. His beady eyes burned with cruel, merciless intelligence. He wore jet black body armor that seemed to cover most of his body and over top, a tan longcoat. The goon looked tough enough to uproot an oak tree with his bare hands. His head was equally huge, with a bald palate that accentuated his innate scare factor. This guy was a monster.

"Who the hell are you people?" Joe managed to blurt out between bloodied teeth.

A slight smile curled Dante's bloodless lips, "We are Olympus, Sergeant Braddock. That is all you need to know for the time being," He motioned to the two guards, "Tie him up and bring him to room twenty-one. Our guest wishes to see meet our young Ranger here."

The soldiers pushed Joe roughly to his knees, thrust his arms behind his back and tied them tight with a strong piece of zip cord. Joe was about to resist when he thought better of it. _Get some intel, learn your surroundings, find out if your men are still alive._ He let himself be pulled to his feet and dragged from the room.

The hall was narrow, with a high roof and several newly installed fluorescent lights to provide much-needed illumination. Wisps of dust fell from the ceiling as movement from vehicles out in the yard shook the foundations of the aged fortress.

A voice Joe did not recognize called out to the Centurions as they left Joe's cell, "Hey _Tovarishch_? Who is the new meat?"

The voice had a distinct Russian accent but spoke perfect English. Joe managed to hold his head up to look at where the voice had come from—the cell directly opposite of his own. Looking through a slot in his cell door was the mug of a dark-skinned man who wore a wry grin on his face as he pestered Dante and his crew.

"None of your concern, fool," barked Dante, angrily.

"Everything in here is my concern, mudak!"

Joe's Russian was pretty rusty, but swear words, he remembered. He was pretty sure the man had called Dante an asshole.

Dante found that quite humorous, "My friend, you matter nothing in what is to come. Count your days. Your life is in the President's hands." Dante turned away, signaling his men to follow.

The man in the cell could only yell back, a vicious rage shaking his voice, "Do not count me out yet, mudak _,_ soon I will be free of this hell!"

As Joe was hauled off by the troopers, he made a mental note to try and contact the Russian again, somehow, when he got back to his cell.

_If_ he got back to his cell.

* * *

AS THEY left behind the Russian prisoner, Joe opened his eyes to take in the sights of this unusual fortress. It had definitely been built in World War II, probably by the Russians as either a defense post or more likely, a prison. A musky smell of dust and body odor assaulted his nose as he was led roughly along.

As Joe and his entourage passed by a large set of metal bars, he heard a voice call his name.

"Sarge! Hey, it's Braddock!"

Joe's name had never sounded so good to his ears. He looked and saw five of his men, crowded together in an open-air prisoner cell, surrounded by steel bars. The five Rangers clambered to their feet and ran towards their Sergeant, pushing their faces against the bars. Privates Johansson, Sakorsky, Peterson, Paulson, and Corporal Tennyson. They looked beaten and hungry, but they were alive.

Thank God!

Johansson, the youngest of the five, an FNG that Joe hadn't had much time to get to know, pushed his arm out trying to get Joe's attention.

"We're with you, Sarge! Don't tell em shit!"

An Olympus Centurion standing guard off to the side moved forward and kicked the soldier in the arm. A rough "snap" sounded that a bone had broken. The young Private cried out in pain. He withdrew back into the cell, clutching the injured limb.

"Shut up! No talking!" yelled the Centurion.

Joe smiled to himself as he did what he was told.

Oh no. My men are alive. I'm alive. And I won't quit until they're free.

### Chapter 4

The Hard Way

AS JOE and his captors marched through the fort, he continued to gather as much information as he could. After they had cleared the cell block the fortress spread out significantly and Joe saw a mazelike circuit of doors and passageways leading this way and that.

_This place must be the size of a football field_ , thought Joe as his handlers pulled him along. They reached a dusty staircase leading to the upper reaches of the fortress.

Dante seemed to grow more aggravated the longer the walk took, "Come on, get him moving, I don't want this to take all day!"

The Centurions hastened at their commander's remark. _These guys were afraid of the brute._ Not that Joe blamed them or anything. Although he was planning to feed Dante his tongue when he got the chance, he knew he'd have to level the playing field to stand half a chance against the bruiser.

The happy thoughts of vengeance were pushed out of his head as they finally reached the mysterious room twenty-one, which was just an iron door at the end of the staircase. Standing to attention at either side of the door were two Centurions, clad in the typical red-black armor these guys favored.

"End of the line," said Dante, moving to open the rusty door. The giant had to stoop due to the lower clearance—his gigantic frame was barely able to squeeze through the door.

Braddock was led into a very different room than any he had seen on his way through the fort. It was cleaner and lightly furnished with several desks, chairs, and lamps. Two large windows gave an expansive view of the mountainous countryside. On the wall directly facing Joe was a large Kazinistani flag, pinned to the wall.

_Subtle_ , he thought.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed what looked like a block and tackle strung through the rafters of the room. On the end of the rope was a large hook. Joe's addled brain was still capable of putting together what the hook was for.

Now might be a good time to resist.

He exploded out from his pretend state of obliviousness and brought the hard tip of his elbow into the groin of the Centurion on the right—the same poor schmuck he had kicked a few minutes ago. The man doubled over, groaning in pain. It was a brief moment of triumph, but not enough to sustain the crushing blow the left Centurion dealt him on the back of the head. The world went upside down as he crashed to the floor, half-unconscious.

Dante's voice sounded amused when he remarked, "Joe, don't you think that poor man has suffered enough?"

Joe coughed, barely clinging to reality. The Centurion to his right was curled in a ball on the floor, hands firmly placed over his wounded crotch.

Dante shook his head, and spoke to someone Joe could not see, "Take that idiot to the infirmary." There was an affirmative response from the other Centurion and a dragging sound as he led his companion from the room.

Joe would have laughed if his brain was working properly. But it wasn't. He could only lie there, useless and infirm. A massive hand gripped his shirt collar and hoisted him up. Dante pulled Joe to his feet and cut the bonds behind his back, freeing his hands for a moment.

"Get over here and secure this man," the giant spoke to someone Joe couldn't see, "Do I need to do everything?"

A new voice Joe didn't recognize chimed up from across the other side of the room, "How much more of this foolishness must I witness, Commander Dante?"

"My apologies, Mr. President. This one is a...bit of a handful."

Two men not dressed in Olympus armor appeared from the back of the room and ran to restrain Joe. They looked vaguely Middle-Eastern to Joe, dressed in high-quality suits. _Private security maybe?_ Joe named them both Mutt and Jeff to better tell the assholes apart. Mutt moved to where the rope connecting to the block and tackle lay and began lowering the hook. Jeff forced Joe's hands in front of him and re-bound them with a tight nylon cord. He then fit the cord over the hook, securing it firmly. Mutt began hoisting the rope and Joe was lifted off his feet. An immense strain rippled through the muscles of his arms, forcing the Ranger to grit his teeth to keep from crying out.

Dante stepped in front of Joe, looking the Ranger eye to eye, "Sorry for the uncomfortable stay, Sergeant. We'll be as quick as possible. Someone very important wants to meet you."

Joe could only hang there like a limp dick. His white T-shirt was soaked through with his sweat and covered in blood. The Nylon cords bit ruthlessly into his wrists, cutting off the circulation and slicing his skin.

Out of the corner of the room materialized the man Dante was speaking of. He was clad in a well-tailored business suit and wore an Islamic _keffiyeh_ wrapped around his head. He had the dark skin of most of the indigenous people Joe had met since being in Afghanistan, but this guy had the look of money to him, something no one Joe had met in the Middle East had. His beard was well-groomed, long, and flecked with gray. With the tempered skill of a politician, his eyes seemed to size Joe up in an instant.

"So this is the leader of the Army Rangers who entered my country without permission?"

Dante stood back out of Joe's present eye line.

So was this the asshole calling the shots?

Joe spoke through bloody lips, "Who the hell are you?"

Mutt had fallen in beside Joe and gave the Army Ranger a good, hard slap across the face, yelling loudly in his ear, "Infidel! This is President Asamat Karimov, leader of the Kazinistani people!"

Joe shook his head, trying to focus his blurred vision, "Oh right, now I recognize him."

The President walked to within a few feet from Joe, "Not a great time for American sarcasm, Sergeant. It is beneath you." He spoke very good English, with only a slight accent. "As my eager bodyguard there said, I am the President of Kazinistan, a sovereign nation you made the bold move to invade with your...what were they...Rangers?"

"I don't kn..." Joe began to speak but was cut off.

"If it were not for my foresight in purchasing the unique services of Commander Dante's extraordinary army, there is no telling what atrocities you and your men would have committed upon entering. Thirty-five men devastated by a small unit of Olympus commandos. Astonishing."

Joe was more confused than ever, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I only have a few moments to spare Sergeant—your presence here will soon be dealt with and I can return to much more important matters. So I shall make this as easy as possible: what were you and your 'Ranger platoon' planning to do in my country?" The President shouted the last question.

Joe's headache was getting progressively worse, made even more unbearable by the man's yelling. Joe tried to remember anything he could about the Kazinistan government and its current state of operations. He knew they were completely neutral in the Afghan conflict—had never intervened in any border conflicts in the past, as far as Joe could remember. Most of the population was made up of the indigenous people, the Kazinistani—an ethnic offshoot of the Kazak people of neighboring Kazakhstan. During briefings, the higher-ups only ever mentioned the country in passing; a tiny, mountainous country barely worth talking about.

Joe shook his head and answered simply, "As far as I know, the United States has no interest in this country. We crossed into it by accident." It was a half-truth, but Joe wasn't about to tell them anything more.

President Karimov shook his head, "Please do not lie, Sergeant. I respect your devotion to your country, believe me, I do. But do not think that devotion will save you if you continue to mislead us."

Joe responded in true Army fashion, "Sergeant Joseph Braddock, 76th Army Ranger Regiment, serial number seven-nine-zero-one dash six."

President Karamov sighed, "Please understand me, Sergeant, I did not wish it to come to this. I love my country too and I know why you do not help me. Still, you must be made to talk." The President looked over to where Dante stood patiently witnessing the discussion, "Commander, you know what I require. Please do not take too long extracting it."

"Of course Mr. President."

The President brushed some dust off his suit, "I take my leave. Is my helicopter prepared?"

Dante nodded. "Of course, my men will escort you down to the helipad."

"Excellent," said the President, happy to be leaving, "Please extend my thanks to the Lord Imperator."

The comment seemed to rub Dante the wrong way, "Of course, sir."

The President gave Joe a last cursory glance before making his exit, followed by Mutt and Jeff. Dante motioned for the last Centurion to leave the room as well. The trooper closed the door behind him, leaving Joe alone with the monster.

Dante moved to stand directly in front of Braddock. "I know you're confused, Joseph. It's okay to be confused. You don't mind if I call you Joseph, do you?"

Joe eyed the giant disdainfully, "Only if I can call you Fuckface."

Dante chuckled, his lips folding back from his perfect white teeth. "I honestly like you, Sergeant. I'm even a bit sorry for you, in a way. You and your men are merely victims of circumstance. But fate has brought you to us and there are lessons that need to be learned." Dante tightened his gloved fists, shaking his massive arms as if prepping for a boxing match.

Joe's heart began to jackhammer.

The giant was going to beat him to death.

He decided to stall for time, "What...what's going to happen to my men?"

Dante began pacing around Joe, continuing to snap his knuckles, "Well that depends, Joseph. Your men, like President Karamov and yourself, are simply a means to an end and that end is rapidly drawing nearer. You see, the President there has asked for a special, um, _interrogator_ to draw out anything you and your men may know about America's interest in this country. I know you Rangers would never betray your oaths, so I'm only here to soften you up a bit. Once Agrippina arrives...well, I'd like to say it's been fun."

Dante gave Joe a hard push and let him swing on the hook like a boxing bag.

Still playing for time, Joe asked, "Who's this Agrippina?" His tongue fumbled over the strange name.

The giant smirked. "A real bitch of a lady. One of our best killers. Someone you don't forget if you survive meeting her."

"Sounds like a real peach."

"Oh, you'll get a real kick out of her, I can tell you that. But for now it's time for the main event." The giant licked his bloodless lips, his eyes gleaming in sadistic glee. "I used to fight alongside child soldiers when I served in Africa. Strange isn't it? To think that something so horrible could exist in this world. Children forced to fight in order to further the profit and gains of warlords—men completely out for their own personal greed."

Joe held his teeth firmly together, not dignifying the bastard with a response.

Dante continued his story, "It occurred to me as I watched these children die by the dozens, like candles snuffed out on a birthday cake, just how truly simple it is to use others to further yourself. But do you know what was _really_ amazing about those kids?"

Joe couldn't imagine.

"Unknown to these children, they were serving an American diamond conglomerate. The children were literally fighting and dying for someone they didn't know and a cause they didn't understand. I watched hundreds die, their lives forgotten like so much dust in the wind."

Joe opened his mouth, about to ask a question. Dante cut him off.

"What does this have to do with anything you might ask? It's simple." Dante put his hands together, prepping his knuckles. "You see, your country has the act of business down so perfectly, you can send children to war and care nothing when they die like lambs fed to wolves. We in Olympus have simply gone one step further—"

In a lightning-fast move, Dante smashed a ham-heavy fist into Joe's solar plexus. The Ranger winced as pain ripped through his torso.

"—we have made the business of war into an art form. We ply our craft around the world to the highest bidder. Until now, we have stayed in the shadows—operating carefully away from sight. No more."

Another punch to the side of his chest. Joe heard a grisly snap and immediately knew one of his ribs had broken.

_The guy hits like a tank. Can't take much more of this_.

"We are now in the business of conflict and control, Sergeant Braddock. And one day Olympus will control all."

The giant continued with several more cruel punches, rocking them across Joe's body like a heavyweight prepping for the big match. The Ranger gagged, trying to speak amidst the assault.

Dante halted for a moment, "You have something to say?"

Joe gagged on a mouthful of blood, trying to catch his breath, "...let my...men go...take me...kill me...let them go..."

Dante sighed, "Joe...Joe. You don't seem to understand—" the brute swung the Ranger away from him as he pulled back his arm, "—this is just the first day of the rest of your life."

The giant delivered a smashing blow into Joe's skull. His mind soared away from the prison.

Lost in his subconscious, he swam into the arms of oblivion.

JOE AWOKE in his cell sometime later. A beam of moonlight illuminated the room. His first sensation was pain. The second was pain. So was the third and fourth. He had never been in such agony. He wondered to himself as he was splayed out in a heap on the floor.

_What are they trying to do? They don't want anything from me, but they are keeping me alive._ Nothing made sense.

He tried to move. He failed. Blood poured from his nose, his mouth, and his ears. His body felt absolutely broken.

_You're gonna die_ here, _Joe._

The realization crept over him. He wasn't scared, just angry. He had failed everyone and when he died, his men would die too.

No. You will not let them down.

And then a voice spoke to him in the darkness of the cell.

"Joe, are you awake?"

The voice was familiar but seemed from a lifetime ago. It was so soft...so quiet.

Danny. Danny Callbeck. Alive.

Joe's eyes popped open. Renewed strength poured into his weakened muscles. He looked around the room and saw his friend, the Inuit Special Forces soldier that had saved his life. Danny sat on the cot, his legs pulled underneath him, as if in a meditative pose.

"Danny! My God, you're...you're okay!" Joe couldn't contain himself. He had never been so glad to see someone in his life. He pulled his body up to a sitting position to face his friend, his pain forgotten for the moment.

But Danny could not look back at Joe.

He was blind.

Joe's heart sank as he saw his friend. Danny's face was a mass of scarring; skin surrounding his eyes was scarred, burned harshly from the incendiary explosion that had been meant for Joe. The corneas of his eyes were bleary and gray and the whites were bloodshot. Several blood-soaked bandages were wrapped around Danny's neck.

The sight of his friend so torn and disfigured pierced Joe's soul.

"Danny, I...I am so...so..."

Danny Callbeck shook his head. He raised a hand out to his friend, feeling in the darkness to touch Joe's shoulder.

"Be quiet Joe," he said. His voice was nothing more than a ragged murmur, forever destroyed by the explosion that had robbed him of sight.

The emotion was too much for Joe Braddock. Tears welled in his eyes, "I did this...it was my fault...I am so sorry...I...if I hadn't..."

"Joe, we need you now. I know there are other survivors. You will get us out of here." Each word sounded like it was torment for Danny.

Joe looked at his friend, his eyes drying as rage filled his heart.

"I'll make them pay Danny. I'll make these bastards suffer. If it takes every last ounce I have...I'll make them pay..."

### Chapter 5

Hatching a Plan

THE NIGHT passed dreamlessly for Joe. He slept curled on the floor, while Danny slept in the cot. When Joe awoke, he felt his stomach twist as it reminded him that he hadn't eaten for God knows how long. His mouth was parched and his lips, still sticky from his blood, were cracked and broken.

The frigid cold of the Kazinistani night was quickly giving way to the smoldering heat of the morning. Joe guessed it was already thirty degrees, give or take. He slowly pulled his battered body up, wincing at the sharp jolt of pain shooting through his torso. His right eye was badly swollen and one of his back teeth was loose. He stuck his fingers into his mouth and gave a tug. The tooth came free with little effort. Joe looked at the little piece of enamel for a second before tossing it aside.

Joe spat a mouthful of blood off to the side then went to work stripping a small piece of fabric from his white T-shirt. He wadded it up and stuck it into his mouth over the empty hole. He knew he'd lost a lot of blood over the past few days and needed to keep his strength up. A lost tooth could bleed for hours if it wasn't properly staunched and if he swallowed too much blood it could make him sick. His makeshift idea didn't work too well. He spat the piece of cloth out and prepared another to try again.

He looked over at his friend. To his surprise, Danny was awake, his sightless eyes staring up at the ceiling as he lay on the cot.

"How you doin' bud?" said Joe through clenched teeth.

Danny did not respond immediately. He held his hand up over his face, seemingly trying to make his eyes see his fingers once more, "I could be better."

"Are you in a lot of pain?"

"I can't feel anything." Callbeck pulled himself up from the cot.

Joe moved to restrain him, "Don't move, Danny, you need to rest."

"I lost my charm."

Joe was confused, "What?"

"My charm...the necklace my father gave me."

"Oh...I'm sorry, man."

Danny shook his head, "Don't be. It's just that...I've had it all my life. It's hard to let go of."

Joe opened his mouth as if to answer but abruptly closed it instead.

What could he say to that?

Joe leaned against the wall, rubbing his pounding head. "There's still a lot I don't know. What happened to you these last few days?"

Danny sat on the cot, staring ahead vacantly, "I'm not really sure. After the battle, I lost consciousness." Joe winced at hearing his friend's voice. It was so weak and quiet.

"I'm sorry, Danny. If it hurts you don't have to..."

Danny cut him off, "I'm fine, Joe. Let me talk."

Joe shut up.

Danny continued, "When I came too, I was in an infirmary, somewhere in this fort. There were a few medics there that tried to patch my face up. I had a tracheotomy in my throat, helping me breathe," he absently rubbed the bandage around his neck, as if remembering the pain, "after that, I don't remember much. They must have dumped me in here while you were being beaten."

Joe rubbed his chin. "You said you knew there were survivors—how'd you know?"

"When I was being dragged here, I heard Private Sakorsky yell to me. I thought it was a dream but I'm certain I heard him." Danny winced at the pain he felt from speaking. He held a hand up gingerly to the wound on his throat.

"He's alive, Danny," said Joe, "Five survivors from the battle are being held a few hundred feet down the hall in a barred cell. I think they're the only ones left."

"How can you be so sure?"

"The asshole President I met yesterday said as much. He could have been lying, but...something tells me..." Joe couldn't finish the thought. The fact that he had lost a platoon of thirty-five good men—his brothers in arms—was too much for him.

Danny's scared face grew solemn, "It's time we man up, Joe. If we don't get out of here soon, we're all dead."

"I don't know how. This cell is old but well built. Besides the door and the tiny hole above us, there's no other way out."

Danny sat silently for a moment. Then he raised his head and asked Joe succinctly, "You're sure there is no other way besides the window and the door?"

"Yeah, like I said."

Danny got up from the bed slowly, pressing his hands against the wall opposite the door for support. Danny continued to move his hands up and down the wall as if he was feeling the contours for something.

Joe was perplexed, "What are you doing?"

"I can feel a...draft coming from somewhere." Danny moved his hands along the wall towards the corner of the room. He was on top of the cot now, feeling the wall carefully, "Did you check under the cot?"

"Yeah...nothing."

"Let's check one more time. Can you help me move the cot?"

Joe shrugged and moved to grasp the end of the cot. Danny gripped the other side and helped Joe pull it out. The Inuit soldier pressed his hand against the wall, moving down slowly, feeling the cement.

"Yes. I can feel it, Joe! There's a slight draft coming from the corner right here..."

Joe moved to stand beside his friend, searching the corner for what it was Danny was feeling. To his eyes, there was nothing there. Danny moved out of the way to let Joe check the area. He placed his hands against the wall and suddenly he too felt the ever-so-slight draft of air. Excitedly, he moved his hands down, following the wisp of air towards its source. He stopped when his hands felt something very strange.

"It feels like the wall here is...fake! Like it's not even really cement." Joe pressed his fingers into the wall, and the cement started to flake at his touch. It wasn't cemented at all, just some kind of plaster! Joe began to work in earnest, scratching away at the area−pulling bits of plaster away from the wall in a frenzy of excitement.

His enthusiasm died when he had cleared away all of the plaster to reveal what appeared to be an old air vent, covered by a steel grate. The grate was secured by eight screws and Joe had nothing to open it with.

Damn!

Joe sat back, looking at the grate. It was a foot and a half wide and about ten inches high. If he squeezed, he could have probably fit through it.

"What is it Joe?" asked Danny.

"It looks like an old air duct. It's secured with a steel grate. I'm thinking they decided to plaster over it to hide its existence—probably in a hurry."

"Can you open the grate?"

Joe shook his head, "Not without a tool."

"If a US Marine can learn to improvise and adapt, so can we," Danny stood up shakily from the cot, "but first..."

Danny was interrupted by loud footsteps reverberating down the stone hallway outside the door. Joe dashed to his feet and pulled the cot back into place to cover the vent. With a second to spare, the window on the cell slid back. An Olympus Centurion peered at the two men, checking the room.

"Alright boys, I've got some breakfast for you. You—" he said to Joe, "—turn around and face the wall."

Joe reluctantly did as he was told. The trooper unlocked the door and opened it wide. He dropped a tray on the floor quickly, closed the door and locked it, "Bon appetit!" The trooper chuckled as he left, clomping heavily down the corridor.

Joe turned and looked at their meal—a rather sad affair consisting of two wrapped Russian K-ration protein bars and two bottles of water. There were no utensils.

Well, _it was something_.

Joe picked up a bottle of water and placed it carefully in Danny's hand. The blind soldier drank thirstily, as did Joe. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had anything to drink.

"I would drink sparingly, comrades." The voice came from outside the hallway and had a strong Russian accent. Joe looked up at the cell door and saw something that made his heart jump.

"Danny, the trooper forgot to close the grate over the window!"

His meal forgotten for the moment, Joe set the tray to the side and leaped up to the door, peering outside into the hallway.

The voice spoke again, coming from the cell opposite them across the hall. "Men have been known to die of starvation in here, _tovarisch_."

Joe finally got a better look at the man he had barely glimpsed a day earlier—that odd Russian that had angered Dante. Joe now saw him clearly—at least his face anyway. He was indeed dark-skinned but looked mixed in his heritage. A scruffy black goatee covered his chin—unkempt and messy. His eyes danced with wanton mischief, his face stretched in a perpetual sarcastic half-smile. The man seemed like the kind of fellow who found the world a highly ironic place to live.

Joe responded cautiously to the man, speaking low as not to gain any unwanted attention from any troopers that may be around, "Who are you?"

"Who am I? No one. Just an unfortunate fool, like you." His voice was incredibly deep, sounding like gathering thunder, "As I said, comrade, drink sparingly. These bastards enjoy starving their prisoners."

"Are you going to tell me your name or what?"

"My name is..." he was about to reply but changed his mind. He thought for a second before finally answering, "You may call me Krieger, my friend."

"Krieger? Are you German?"

"No, I am Russian."

"Then why Krieger? Isn't that German?"

The strange prisoner mulled over the question for a moment, "It sounds cool, no?"

Joe frowned. "So you're a Russian with a German name and dark skin. Have you told the truth about anything yet?

Krieger chuckled, "Fine, my friend, you've pulled the truth from me. I am really Bulgarian. Can't you tell by my fabulous accent?"

Joe was beginning to get annoyed by the man's flippant attitude. He couldn't tell if this was how he always was or if it was just a reaction to being imprisoned. As he spoke with the Russian\Bulgarian or whatever he was, Danny took a seat on the cot, listening to the exchange as he ate one of the protein bars.

"Can't you just talk straight?" Joe asked impatiently.

The Russian laughed, "Ha! Not really. My poor Austrian mother did not raise me to have manners like you good Americans."

"I thought you said you were Bulgarian?"

Krieger laughed. "Now _you_ are putting words in mouth!"

"Jesus, whatever," said Joe in exasperation. He pushed on with his questions, "Do you know how we can get out of here?"

Krieger looked around the corridor before answering, making sure no Olympus troopers were near, "Yes I have plan. A good plan that will solve all problems."

Joe grew excited at the prospect, "Tell me. We can help each other."

Krieger put a finger to his mouth in a 'shh' gesture, "It is very dangerous, tovarisch. First you must kill every soldier in fortress, and then find way out of mountains without getting killed. Then, if you are still alive, try not to run into Taliban killers and make your way to friendly country. I think nearest one is Dubai."

Joe had had it listening to the man's constant jesting, "Christ, if you don't want to help just say so." He looked away from the door and back at Danny, who was busy chomping on the K-ration, "How is it?"

"Awful."

Joe unwrapped the other protein bar and took a large bite. It tasted like hammered shit. He swallowed it down, almost upchucking it back. He knew he needed to keep his strength up. Joe ate half the bar and then stopped, setting it aside. As Danny finished his portion, Joe placed the rest of his own ration in his blind friend's hands.

"You eat the rest of this, okay?"

"No, Joe you need..."

"I'm fine. You need your strength."

Danny reluctantly agreed. He took the bar, but added, "Don't worry about me, Joe. I'll be ready when you need me to be."

While his friend ate, Joe looked out the window into the corridor to speak again to their mysterious companion. "So how'd you get in here anyway? Maybe you can be straight about that at least."

Joe saw Krieger close his eyes as if thinking how best to tell a really odd story. Joe knew the man was slightly touched in some way. He gave Joe the impression of someone locked up and caged far too long.

"It has been long time I've been here," said Krieger, moving away from the window, "I was mercenary, like Olympus...but I work for others."

Joe raised an eyebrow, "You worked for the Taliban?"

Krieger scoffed at the interruption, "Jesus no, you fool! I think I was caught in Uzbekistan, helping fight against Ultra-Nationalists."

Joe frowned, "You _think_ you were caught?"

Krieger smirked, "Memory not great...sometimes forgets things in past. Anyways, fighting did not go well. My group was killed by that rat bastard Dante and I was brought here."

"Are you Russian army?"

"No."

"Tajikistani?"

" _Nyet_."

"Pakistani? Come on."

Krieger smiled at Joe's insistent questioning, "Negative my friend. I am here, I am there, I am from everywhere."

"Fine, whatever." Joe changed the subject, "What do you know of this Olympus army?"

Krieger's face darkened unexpectedly, "They are Private Military Company...very rich people."

"Where'd they come from?"

"Don't know. They have weaponry no one has ever seen—stuff able to destroy any technology you Americans can throw at them."

"Who is this 'Dante?'" asked Joe quizzically, "Is he their leader?"

"Don't think so. He is more like...soldat, more how you say, _soldier_."

"I don't understand."

Krieger's mood lightened, "Don't worry, you will my friend. Once _she_ arrives, you will."

Joe raised an eyebrow, " _She_? Who's she?"

"Did you not hear them mention her name?"

Joe thought for a moment, "You mean that Agrippina person?"

Krieger smirked, "Yes. She has only visited this place once...and many prisoners died that time. Besides you and men down the hall, I am last prisoner."

"What, is she some sort of assassin?"

"No," said Krieger, "more like...executioner. She is very bad news. All I can tell you is if you wish to get out, you should go before she arrives, you know?"

"Perfect," said Joe, turning away from the window. Danny sat on the cot, leaning against the wall. He'd finished eating and had been listening intently to the conversation.

"What are you thinking?" Joe asked his friend.

"It's clear we need to leave before this woman arrives. I think I have an idea, but it will be up to you to pull it off."

"What do you have in mind?"

Danny leaned forward, "First, ask our friend out there how often the guard passes the cells."

Joe asked Krieger the question. The Russian responded briskly, "Every twenty minutes, give or take. In fact, he is due any moment. There is no guard at night—they use infrared cameras positioned in hallway. Doors are also mechanically alarmed."

Joe reasoned it out. The cameras would make escaping through the cell doors improbable. The moment they managed to open them, the Olympus soldiers would know, making things impossible. They needed to escape another way.

Danny spoke up, saying what Joe was thinking, "We need a tool. Something to open that grate."

"But where do you think it leads?"

Danny shrugged, "Who knows. Probably to the basement. It'd be a start."

Joe agreed, "Okay. I think I have an idea to get something that'll do the trick..."

### Chapter 6

A Kingdom for a Nail

IT WAS closer to an hour when the Centurion finally returned to collect their trays. The trooper looked through the window. Danny sat on the cot, looking forlorn. Joe was nowhere in sight.

"What the...where's the other guy?" asked the bewildered trooper.

"He left. Didn't like the rent," replied Danny, his raspy voice sounding completely unsurprised.

"You stay put," said the trooper, working the key in the door.

The second he heard the door unlock, Joe acted. He had splayed himself neatly against the side of the door, waiting for the right moment. As the cell door opened, he threw himself full force against it, sandwiching the trooper against the frame. The trooper was stunned for a precious half-second. Spinning around the door, Joe launched himself at the Centurion in a faux football tackle—throwing both of them outside of the cell to land in the middle of the corridor. Joe leaped up, cupped his hands together, and brought both fists down on the trooper's helmet as hard as he could. The Centurion was dazed, letting out a loud groan as he went limp.

Joe checked the trooper for a weapon. Nothing...only a large taser, useless for what he had planned.

Of all the damn luck!

He jumped to his feet and took off down the hall. He heard Krieger yelling after him, "Ha! Go, tovarisch! Give them hell!"

Joe ran for all he was worth, looking wildly around him for something he could use. He had run about fifty feet down the prison corridor when he heard the sound of approaching guards directly in front of him.

Think fast!

Joe could vaguely hear the footsteps of the trooper he had knocked down approaching from behind him.

They were boxing him in.

He looked around in vain for... _something, anything!_

Then Joe's heart leaped as he spotted the perfect tool. A small, thin nail protruding from one of the old cell doors. He bent down and tried to pry it off.

Come on! Loosen dammit!

He worked at the nail, moving it back and forth to loosen it. The footsteps and shouting of the troopers were getting closer.

He pulled with all his might, his fingers screaming in pain.

The nail came free.

The elation of his success would soon be kicked out of him, Joe was sure. He had to hide the tool.

Grimacing, he jammed the nail into his arm. It was already so full of scrapes, no one would notice another. Joe pushed the nail completely into the fleshy part of his bicep, gagging in pain. Blood spewed from the wound. He would need a tetanus shot eventually. Joe hoped against hope that this idiotic idea would work.

"There he is! DON'T MOVE!"

Joe saw three troopers coming from the opposite end of the prison corridor, armed with XM8 Carbine Rifles and shouting for him to halt. They charged towards him, running with practiced precision.

_Sweepers_ , Joe told himself.

He tried throwing his arms up, but it made little difference. The trooper he'd knocked over finally reached him and delivered a powerful blow to the back of Joe's head with his armored glove. The Ranger was knocked to the ground dazed, but not unconscious. The troopers laid in on him, kicking Joe everywhere that could hurt and in places, he didn't know could. He covered his head with his hands, praying they wouldn't notice the fresh wound with the nail. The beating lasted an agonizing half minute before a familiar voice shouted behind them.

"That is enough!"

A nasty cut above Joe's eyes began oozing blood, temporarily blinding him. He could barely see Dante walking towards where he lay—like a massive bear eyeing a fresh meal.

"Get back!" the giant bellowed.

The troopers did as they were told, scared of the massive goon. Dante trudged to where Joe lay in a bloodied heap and knelt beside him.

"What in the world were you trying to accomplish, my boy?" He looked around quizzically, "I told you before there is no hope in this place. There is no cavalry coming. You are well and truly _fucked_."

Joe gurgled, spitting out a mouthful of blood, "Then kill me already."

Dante smiled, "As fun as that would be Joe, you are still of use to us. I can't have you die without Agrippina making your acquaintance." The giant stood up, looking at his men, "Check him over, make sure he didn't take anything he can use, and put him back in his cell." He turned to leave, saying over his shoulder, "Try and make him stay there this time!"

* * *

WITH HIS escape attempt over, the troopers dumped Joe roughly back into the cell, letting him crash in a heap on the floor. The Centurions locked the door behind them and closed the metal grate over the window. Joe could only lay there, hoping that the pain he was in would be worth it.

"Joe, are you all right?" asked Danny, getting up from the cot to blindly make his way over to check on his friend.

Braddock sputtered, coughing from the new pain in his ribs. As if one broken rib wasn't enough, it felt like another had fractured. _Damn_.

"Just...fantastic," he replied, trying to stand.

Danny pulled Joe's arm around his neck and hoisted him gently onto the cot. Joe slumped over, his whole body screaming in pain.

"Did it work?" Danny murmured.

Joe murmured an affirmative before drifting off into an unconscious stupor.

* * *

IT WAS late in the day when Joe awoke. The familiar jolt of pain was somewhat lessened this time. _I must be approaching a threshold_ , he thought to himself. Over the past few days, he had endured more pain than ever in his life and was becoming rather proud of still being able to function. His Ranger training was paying off.

"Joe, are you awake?" Danny asked from where he sat in his cot.

"Yeah. I can barely fucking move," answered Joe. His body seemed to be refusing to accept orders from his brain. It took some time before Joe finally managed to pull himself to a sitting position. His head wound had stopped bleeding. He could only imagine the scar it would leave. His arm hurt like a sonovabitch and the skin surrounding the wound where the nail had been was grisly and scabbed. Joe knew it would have to be treated properly soon, or he risked major infection. Desperation often leads to crazy ideas. He just prayed this idea would work.

"Anything happen while I was out?" Joe asked.

Danny shook his head, "Not really. You've been unconscious for the better part of two days. I was worried if you were going to wake up at all."

That explained the massive hunger pangs that immediately twisted Joe's stomach after waking up. Expecting this, Danny held forward a fresh protein bar. The Army Ranger took it gratefully, barely waiting to unwrap it before biting into the revolting K-ration. As he chewed, Joe looked at his sightless friend, sitting on the floor. Danny seemed unusually passive to Joe, as if all of this was just another day for him.

"Do you think command will have attempted a rescue yet?" asked Joe.

Danny reached up to his neck to clasp the Inuit charm that no longer hung there. He dropped his hand back down before answering, "Maybe, but with the withdrawal, who knows if they'll ever find us."

Joe nodded grimly as he began the repugnant task of pulling the nail out of his arm. He had managed to push it in quite deep. Gritting his teeth, Joe focused on his friend's words to keep his mind off the pain. He winced as he eased the nail gingerly forward. Blood dripped from the wound, careening down his arm in a stream of red.

Finally, enough of the nail had been removed that he could grip it between his fingers. He pulled it the rest of the way, gasping in pain as it came loose in a spurt of blood.

"Goddamn it!" he almost cried out.

"Did you get it?" Danny asked.

Joe took a halting breath and held the nail up to inspect it, "Yep. This had better work, or I don't know what else we're gonna do."

He cleaned the grisly tool off as best as he could on his T-shirt. It was only two and a half inches long, but it was a decent iron nail, hopefully up to the task he needed it to perform. Danny moved out of the way as Joe gingerly pulled the cot out from the wall. Callbeck moved to the door to keep an ear out for any sound in the hallway. He gave a thumbs up to Joe that none was forthcoming.

Joe got down on his hands and knees and inspected the grate. He judged he'd be able to squeeze through if he managed to get it off, praying the thing actually lead somewhere. He began to work the screws around the grate, using the nail to try and pry them loose. They were very well drilled, barely giving way even after ten solid minutes of work. His hands were torn and bloody by the time he managed to loosen the first screw.

Terrific, only seven to go.

Joe worked until his hands felt as though they would fall off. He sat back, gasping in pain. He was quickly reaching the end of his endurance. All of the pain he had been subjected to the past few days was finally getting the better of him. He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate—forcing himself to focus.

Danny placed a hand on his shoulder, "I'll take a turn at it, Joe."

"No Dan, I've got it..."

"I'm not useless yet. Give me the nail."

Joe looked at Danny's emotionless face. Callbeck's sightless, damaged eyes stared at him coldly. Joe expected this was something the Canadian had to prove to himself. He placed the nail in Danny's outstretched hand and moved to the other side of the room, collapsing on the floor.

Danny began to work. He moved his hands along the grate, finding the screws easy enough. It was agonizingly painful toil, but after a half-hour or so, he had managed to release the other screws.

"Joe I did it. The screws are out," said Danny in his low-key murmur.

Joe leaped to his friend's side, his pain forgotten. The grate was still fastened to the wall. Joe worked at it for a moment until the grate slid free. He patted Danny on the back, "Good work bud! I'm going through it to see where it leads..."

"...and I'm going with you," said Danny, adamantly.

Joe stopped short, "No way, it's too dangerous. I'll go first and make sure everything is clear and I'll come back to..."

Danny cut him off, "Sorry, Joe, but I'm coming too. If our escape presents itself, I will not be a burden. I can take care of myself."

Joe was heartened at his friend's courage, but this was the first thing he'd said Joe could not agree with, "Danny, if anything were to happen, I'd—"

"There will be no more discussion of it, Braddock. You lead, I'll follow." He stood resolute; there was no way he would back down.

Joe shook his head, "Fine, stay tight behind me and be as quiet as you can."

Danny smiled, "Trust me, Joe, you don't have to worry about me making noise."

"Alright, come on if you're coming." Braddock bent down and pushed his body through the grate—worming his way into the cramped duct. Danny pulled the cot over to cover the hole as best he could. It wouldn't really matter. If the guard returned and they were gone, the jig would be up. They would have to move fast and hopefully find a way out soon. Joe knew he was the only hope for his boys and whatever hope they had of escaping lay somewhere through this duct.

* * *

AT FIRST, it didn't seem so bad. The air duct was surprisingly roomy, albeit dirty as hell. It had probably been built later in the fort's lifespan. If Joe had to guess, it was during the Russo-Afghan war in the 80s, perhaps for added ventilation or some such. Whatever it was used for, it had long been forgotten about now. There was little light, so Joe crept forward cautiously—squeezing through the stifling duct in total darkness. He moved through at a good pace, feeling the duct twist and turn through the guts of the fortress. He slowed periodically to make sure Danny was coming along okay, but each time he checked, his friend was keeping up just fine. Joe was astonished at his friend's ability to adapt to his handicap so well. Danny hadn't complained at all or even asked for help once since they were reunited.

Danny Callbeck had been correct about one thing, however. Joe never heard him make a sound.

Joe tried to be as silent as possible. He knew if he made the wrong move at the wrong time, the duct could reverberate and some asshole down below would hear him. And then...lights out.

Still, the idea that this could lead them to their freedom gave renewed vigor to Joe's pain-wracked body. He moved steadfast and sure through the darkness, mindful of his tight surroundings. He thanked God he wasn't claustrophobic. As a kid growing up in Kansas, Joe delighted in crawling through abandoned farmhouses, attics, and other places 'playing soldier'. His adoptive parents would have been aghast to have known that, but he'd been a careful child and they had never caught him. The memory made Joe smile in the darkness.

Every twenty meters or so, he would come to a section of ducting that had several air ventilation slits cut into the side. The slits provided Joe with fleeting wisps of light from the mostly dark prison. Still, it was better than nothing. He stopped periodically to look through the slits, taking in the sights and committing them to memory for future use. Joe reasoned that every little bit of visual data he could get about the prison would be important if they managed to escape.

They were progressing steadily down into the lower depths of the prison. The cell he and Danny had been kept in must have been located near the top of the fortress. There wasn't much of note down here. He hadn't even seen any guards or any activity of any kind so far. The rooms were full of simple tech equipment and crates of supplies.

After moving for nearly ten minutes, the distinct sound of voices below made Joe stop cold. Danny followed suit, listening intently.

"...and I have told you several times, Sir, that we do not need her presence here."

The deep, baritone voice belonged to Dante.

_You have the best luck, Joe Braddock_.

Joe held his breath, listening to the conversation. He didn't hear an answering voice, so Joe assumed Dante was speaking to someone on a phone or radio.

"Yes sir, I know...but the plan is too important. That idiot President still thinks that..." He was cut off in mid-sentence, "Yes sir, I am aware of your feelings about her, but I am well in control of this facility. I still submit that Agrippina is NOT required..."

Joe could hear a tinge of anger in Dante's voice as the other person on the other line seemed to be tearing him a new asshole. "You _know_ I am loyal, my lord, don't mistake me for one of your minion Centurions."

Joe looked through the slits of one of the ducts and saw the giant pacing slowly, a cell-phone held to his ear, "Yes sir, the Code is progressing as planned. The first half should be completed early tomorrow. After that, we will begin the evacuation towards Fort Liberatio to secure the second half."

Code _is progressing as planned? Fort_ Liberatio _?_ Joe listened eagerly, his mind screaming for more information, and praying that the big sonovabotch would soon move the hell on.

"Yes...Agrippina's suit is finished. Doctor Yune has proven himself useful again." He paused, listening to the other voice, "Yes, of course, he will be eliminated after the final suit is prepped. What about the captured Rangers?"

Joe listened, his ears burning.

"I don't understand Sir. Why move them? Please, allow me to...take care of them for you."

The caller didn't seem to like that alternative. Dante's normally pale skin began to flush with rage.

"Yes sir, of course, they will be on their way to the alternate site by tomorrow morning. I hope you will let me in on your...plan, whatever it may be."

Dante was silent for some time, as the other voice finished its commands. Joe wondered who the hell could be pulling a giant like Dante's strings.

"Yes sir of course, I will contact you as soon as I leave. Goodbye." He hung up the cell phone and replaced it in his tan longcoat. Then he immediately slammed a massive arm into one of the large crates stacked against the wall nearest him. The crate imploded—crushed under the giant fist.

_Christ what a monster_ , thought Joe.

He saw Dante raise a finger to the Bluetooth device attached to his ear and press it, "Centurion Commander Culpa, respond." Joe couldn't hear the response, but Dante did, "The Rangers are to be moved to Fort Liberatio tomorrow. However, the two men in the room across from the Russian shall be processed at 07:00 sharp. Make their deaths... _interesting_ ," Dante sighed loudly, "It appears that it will be the only fun I'll have for some time."

Joe sucked at his lip. So now he and Danny were to be executed at dawn. It looked to Joe that they had bigger problems than this Agrippina woman everyone was talking about. All the more reason to hurry up and find a way out.

Dante headed to the door of the room, speaking as he went, "I shall require rest before the morning. Do not disturb me until the Code is completed. What? Sometime around 07:30, or so the technicians tel...."

Whatever else Dante said was lost as he shut the lights off and closed the door behind him as he left the room.

Joe turned to his blind friend. "Danny...we've got a big problem."

"No kidding."

Joe mulled over what he had just heard. His body was still tensed, and his heart was beating loudly. A ticking clock had just been set and they needed to be ready on time. Otherwise...God only knew.

* * *

AFTER A few more minutes of crawling, Joe came face to face with a rat.

A really, _really_ big rat.

They'd been crawling steadily down into the basement of the fortress when the patter of little feet came wandering down the vent towards them. In the darkness, Joe could see two beady red eyes shining like blood diamonds.

Joe hated rats. With a burning passion. _Please turn around and go back_ , he willed the creature with his mind.

Nope, it kept coming straight towards them.

Danny quietly asked, "What is it, Joe?"

"A rat."

"Stay calm. Kill it if you have too."

Joe's heart jackhammered in his chest. _I HATE RATS_. He didn't want the bastard even coming close to him. How could he kill it? He didn't have a weapon.

The creature made a strange sniffing noise as it pawed towards him in the dark. All Joe could focus on were those eyes.

It was within a few feet from him. Joe was frozen, staring at it. He began to sweat. _Oh God, please go away._ It didn't. He tried to shoo it away with his hand. It jerked back, then lunged forward at the threat. Joe swatted at it again, but this time, it managed to bite his hand. Joe swore under his breath, his sore hand throbbing from the bite.

Lashing out, Joe seized the little beast. It twisted and curled in his hand trying to escape. He grabbed it by the head with his other hand and twisted sharply, trying to break its back.

But that's not what happened.

The rat exploded in a bright flare of sparks.

What. The. Hell?

In his hands, he now held two distinct pieces of what he'd thought only a moment ago was a large rat. The two pieces sparked as the exposed machinery of its interior shorted out.

Danny's voice came from behind him, "Joe, what was that? What's going on?"

"It's a fucking _robot!_ " hissed Joe in disbelief.

"What? How is that possible?"

Joe could only stare in the near darkness at the bizarre sight he held in his hands. It was some sort of...robot rat! It had looked and acted so lifelike, Joe had thought it was completely real. Everything in his mind told him he was insane, that what he held was impossible...but there it was, in his hands. The remains of the rat stopped sparking and the mechanical insides grew dark and dead.

Joe's mind was racing, his heart pounding. This was one for the books. What in the name of God was a robotic rat doing wandering a Kazinistani prison air duct? Well, there wasn't much he could do about it sitting in the dark.

"Here, take this," he said to Danny, passing one of the halves behind him.

"What do you want me to do with it?" replied Danny, grasping the broken robot in his outstretched hand.

"Just...hold onto it. We'll...I don't know, we'll take it with us."

Danny seemed to think better of further questions and did as he was asked, shoving the dead robot into the pockets of his fatigues. Joe did the same. Hoping that was the last of the robotic-vermin, he continued through the duct.

### Chapter 7

The Second Skin

JOE BRADDOCK picked up the pace, his arms aching from the difficult movement. They had to be in the very bowels of the fortress by now. The duct no longer had slits every few dozen feet and they were crawling through pitch black. Joe's heart began to sink. _What if there was no end_? _What if this leads into some locked room or_ —

Abruptly, the duct gave way under Joe.

His hands fell through empty air, his body weight pulled him forward and before he knew it he plunged perpendicularly down a vertical incline. Joe panicked as he thrust his arms out to try and halt his descent. He managed to slow himself but only after he plowed face-first into a grate. A light shown through the bars and Joe knew they had reached the end of the duct.

Danny called to him quietly, his haggard voice reverberating softly in the vent, "Joe, are you all right?"

Joe managed to right himself. He hoped against hope that no one had heard his plummet through the duct. He peered outside the grate to see where he was. All he could see were large crates. Probably another supply room.

He tested the grate, seeing if it would give way, or was attached like the one from their cell. Surprisingly, it was not a steel grate, just the original iron one built whenever the duct was. Joe could tell it was not held in place well and a good kick or two would probably free it.

Danny called down from the top of the incline, "Joe, what do you want me to do?"

As quiet as he dared, not knowing what or who was in the room beyond, he called back, "Just hold up a minute, Danny."

The Ranger listened intently for a few moments, searching for any movement or sound. For a moment, he heard nothing, but then several noises within told him someone was there.

Joe had to make a decision. There was pretty much no way he could take on a Centurion hand-to-hand if that's who was making the noise. But this was their only hope.

Making up his mind, he braced his hands firmly on the grate and pushed. It gave away with almost no effort. He managed to hold the grate tight in his hand and not make more than a small squeal of noise. He exhaled softly, placing the piece of metal to the side. The air from the room was cooler and a welcome change from the stuffy, interminable duct. He waited a short moment, in case he had made more noise than he thought. Satisfied, Joe crept out of the duct.

He had emerged into a large room, behind a sizable collection of crates with assorted markings on them with phrases like 'CAUTION! CONTENTS UNDER PRESSURE, and CONTAINS BIO-MATERIALS. KEEP REFRIGERATED. Joe placed a hand on one of the crates and felt it was rather cold.

_Curiouser and_ curiouser _._

The crates were stacked high and did a marvelous job of shielding Joe from anyone that may have been alerted to the noise. He hoped his luck would hold out a bit longer. He knelt and peered through a gap between the stacks.

The room beyond was much larger than any other Joe had seen so far—about the size of a small gym. Unlike the rest of the fort, it was well lit with several large fluorescent lights scattered along the ceiling. Around the room were about half a dozen work tables covered with an assortment of technical gadgets and gizmos Joe couldn't begin to identify. There were also several air conditioning units set up throughout, keeping the temperature at what felt like ten degrees, give or take. Joe had to admit it was refreshing to be in a controlled environment once again.

As for any occupants, he spotted two: a man that looked like a scientist or lab tech, and an Olympus Centurion. Both were discussing something about thirty feet away, on the other side of the room. If they had heard Joe's movements, they did not show it. They were speaking heatedly about something Joe couldn't quite make out above the racket from the air conditioners.

Well, _it's safe for the moment._

Joe eased back inside the grate and called up into the duct quietly. "Danny, it's clear. Come down, quiet as you can."

In the vague darkness, he saw Danny shuffle down the incline. His friend eased his way forward, almost effortlessly, and emerged headfirst through the duct. Joe helped him to his feet. Placing Danny's hand on his shoulder, he guided his friend around the crates. The large containers were lined all across the wall with enough space to allow the two men to approach cautiously.

After a few seconds, they were in earshot of the two unknowns. Joe eased down onto one knee, listening intently while Danny did the same.

"...I cannot do as the Commander wishes in the timeframe he has asked," said the scientist, with a mild Asian dialect, "You tell him it will take at least another week to make the improvements to the suit's endocrine meshing. If I don't, it could kill whoever tries to use it."

The Centurion replied in a bored, cranky tone, "And I am to tell you, Doctor, that the Commander wants the suit completed within the night. You'd better knuckle down and get working if I were you."

The scientist bristled, "I will not be part of this foolishness any longer. I built your company the surveillance drones as they requested. Now it's Olympus that must make good on its promise to let me go!"

Joe peered around the crates, watching what was unfolding, careful not to be seen.

The Centurion was losing patience, "The Commander said you would say that."

"Then you may tell the Commander I refuse to have anything more to do with this insane project."

"The Commander said you would say that too," replied the Centurion.

The scientist crossed his arms, "Then there is nothing more to talk about."

"Sorry doc, but there's plenty more to talk about."

With that, the trooper smashed the scientist roughly across the face. The Doctor's glasses went flying from his face as he fell to the ground. He tried to reach for them, but the trooper stepped on his hand. The scientist yelped in pain.

"My hand...please..."

The Centurion stood over the doctor, his armored frame making him appear like a fearsome statue, "Finish the job Doc. Otherwise, Commander Dante will be forced to have another chat with you. And I doubt you'll like the results."

Joe watched as the Centurion removed his boot from the scientist's hand. The Doctor cradled it to his body as he moved into a fetal position on the floor. The Centurion grabbed the Doctor by the collar of his white lab coat and hoisted him back on his feet.

"There you go, Doc, aren't you glad we had this little chat? Now get back to work, or I'll be forced to wake Commander Dante and you can trust me—he won't be as nice to you as I've been." The Centurion chortled under his helmet and left the Doctor standing shakily in front of his workstation. Joe watched as the trooper moved towards the only exit, unlocked it from the inside, and stepped out. A loud click sounded as the door was locked again.

Joe saw the Doctor lean down and retrieve his glasses. He was Asian, though Joe wasn't the best judge of exactly where he was from. Maybe Japan if he had to guess. The scientist replaced his glasses and pushed them up on the bridge of his nose. The trooper had rattled the man quite a bit. Joe wondered what all the talk about suits and endocrine-stuff meant.

He was going to find out.

He let go of Danny's hand and quietly said, "Wait here." The scientist had his back to Joe and he was only ten feet away. If he moved quickly, he might be able to silence the man before he could call out for help. Joe crept silently forward, gritting his teeth from the soreness in his body. The floor was smooth and his bare feet made no noise as he approached.

The scientist felt the rush of air too late to do anything. Joe caught the man in a deadlock grip—clapping his hand over his mouth before the lab rat could make a sound.

"If you don't want to die, do exactly what I say." Joe hissed.

The scientist nodded frantically.

"Alright, I'm going to let you go and if you do anything I don't like, I'll break you in two before that asshole outside can do anything for 'ya. Got it?" The man nodded again, "Good. Now when I let you go, you're going to sit on that chair over there and answer my questions."

Joe waited for the man to acknowledge and then released him from his grip. The scientist turned to face Joe, giving the Ranger his first good look at the man. He was young, maybe in his late twenties, same as Joe, but seemed younger somehow. His eyes were a heavy brown color and his hair was a spectacular unkempt mess. A pair of octagonal rimmed glasses sat perched on his thin nose. He seemed relatively harmless to Joe at first glance, but he'd already learned that things weren't always as they seemed in this place, so he kept his guard up. Joe watched the man intently as he did as he was told and sat down on the tall chair placed in front of the messy workstation.

Even though the air conditioning was noisy enough to obscure all but the loudest sounds from escaping the room, he nevertheless kept his voice down, "Alright Danny, you can come out."

Danny appeared from behind the crates, staying low as he felt his way over to where Joe stood. The scientist spotted the Canadian and seemed to blanch at the sight of the blind man's injuries.

"Who are you people?"

As Danny approached, Joe took his hand and placed it on his shoulder. The noise of the air conditioners would make it difficult for his friend to know where to go if they were discovered and Joe wasn't about to let anything happen to him.

"I'll ask the questions here. Do you expect that trooper back soon?"

The scientist shook his head, "No, they usually leave me in here for hours at a time. It was a concession I made to work for them, and they know I am no threat."

"Hmm," Joe muttered, showing what he thought of Olympus concessions, "what's your name?"

"My name?" he seemed surprised Joe would even care, "My name is Toshiro Yune. Doctor Yune."

Joe looked around the bizarre room, "Doctor of what?"

"I...I have PH.D.'s in Bio-Engineering, Nano-Technology and Computer Science from the University of Tokyo."

Joe was impressed, "Shit doc, I only managed a degree in community college."

Yune continued as if uninterrupted, "I was working for NATO when these men attacked my convoy. They killed everyone but me."

Joe cocked an ear. For a split second, he thought he heard something from outside the room.

"Just a second, Doc. Stay there." Joe set Danny's hand down and rushed over to the large door leading outside of the cold laboratory. He had to lock it with something, just in case some nosy Centurion came back. A small pile of mechanical tools lay on one of the large work tables in the lab. Joe snatched what looked like a Patterson trocar from the table and jammed it into the door's handles. If anyone was going to come checking on them, at least Joe would have a heads-up.

As he walked back towards his companions, Joe remembered something, "You said Bio-engineering huh? Do you know what the hell _this_ is?" He pulled the remains of the mechanical rat from his pocket.

Yune gasped at the sight of the broken robot, "You...what did...you destroyed it!"

Joe was surprised, "Well, yeah, it attacked me. What is it?" Danny pulled the rest of the rat from his fatigues and passed it to Joe. He passed the remains to the scientist.

"It was something I had been working on in my spare time—a rat cyber sentry." He took the pieces and looked them over carefully. "It is an AI-controlled device that would have been used to patrol hard to reach places and act as a spy." The Doctor sighed mournfully, "No longer, it would seem."

Joe shrugged, "Sorry, Doc, but the thing attacked us. I have to admit, I've never seen anything like that before."

Yune exhaled sadly, tossing the pieces onto the workbench, "Well, it's no use to me anymore."

"Look, Doc," said Joe, crossing his arms in front of him, "we don't have a lot of time to waste here. What the hell are they planning to do tomorrow?"

"What do you mean?" Yune asked, puzzled.

"We overheard Commander Dante discussing some sort of Code. What was he talking about?"

Yune seemed to hesitate, not sure what to tell these two strange individuals. "I...I don't actually know _what_ the Code is, I only know what Olympus wanted me to do for them."

"And what's that?" asked Joe.

"Well, my specialty is mechanical engineering. I have built several surveillance machines used by NATO for the war in Afghanistan. I helped develop HI-Res cameras for Predator drones, as well as advancements in US Navy radar technology. When I was...kidnapped six months ago, Olympus put me to work developing very specific surveillance equipment."

Danny put a hand out to find the nearest table. Upon feeling the cold metal countertop, he leaned against it, resting his limbs for a moment, "What exactly did Olympus want from you?"

"Well so far, two rather big things. First, they wanted me to augment all of their surveillance drones to be able to process massive amounts of data...data from all parts of a battlefield. They wanted their drones to be capable of assimilating battlefield data for tactical deconstruction on an almost biblical scale."

Joe frowned, "You've lost us, Doc."

"I don't know how to put it more simply, Mr...umm..?"

Joe sighed impatiently, "Sorry, Doc, I guess we're just in a hurry. I'm Sergeant Joseph Braddock, Army Rangers and this is Corporal Danny Callbeck, Canadian Special Forces."

"Well, I suppose it's nice to meet you," Yune said, a smile crossing his thin face.

"You were saying something about Biblical scale?" said Joe.

Yune took a breath, "The Olympus personnel I have dealt with since my kidnapping have been obsessed with accumulating data and surveillance from the surrounding countries. Afghanistan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan—they wanted to know every minute piece of information of any conflicts nearby. Once I had designed their surveillance drones, I was forced into designing... _other_ things for them."

"What other things?" Joe asked.

The question seemed to brighten Yune's mood somewhat, "I think it would be best if I just show you." Yune gestured to Danny, "Is he..."

"... _Blind?_ How'd you guess?"

"Just a minute," Yune sat up and grabbed a device off the mess of a table. It resembled a pair of old gargoyle sunglasses attached to a small gadget that resembled a hearing aid. He took the item over to Danny.

Joe was mystified, "Doc, what is..."

"It's an ocular nerve enhancement device that I have been testing."

Despite the doctor's bruised hand, his attitude was surprisingly upbeat. Joe guessed the man got a kick out of showing off his gizmos.

"It stimulates cortical nerve clusters in the optic center of the brain to perceive electromagnetic impulses sent from these glasses. Here, try them on!"

"Doc, keep it down," hushed Joe.

Yune ignored Joe, too excited to finally have a test subject for his device. Danny reluctantly did as he was asked, placing the glasses on his face. Yune attached the small electrode underneath Danny's ear. He made a small adjustment and then clicked a tiny switch on the glasses.

Joe was about to intervene. This was just too weird, "Wait, I don't know about this Doc..."

"Trust me, Mr. Braddock, it will be fine," Yune said, stepping back. "It requires a moment to calibrate. Be patient, Mister Callbeck."

Danny complied. "I don't feel anything."

"Just give it one moment. Trust me!"

Joe was getting impatient. He wasn't sure if this guy was just some quack or what, but he knew they couldn't stay here much longer.

Suddenly Danny gave a surprised yelp, "My God...Joe I...I can _see_!"

Joe eyes went wide, "What?"

"I swear...I can see! It's like...I..." Danny was overcome with emotion, his haggard voice raised as loud as he could.

Joe looked uneasily at the door, "What do you mean? How are you able to see?"

Danny looked around the room, a smile spreading across his face. He looked at Doctor Yune and reached out, touching the scientist's shoulder.

Yune smiled. "The device beams electrical impulses through the brain and his cortical cluster reads them as images. Think of it as a type of 'radar' I suppose. That is my second skill, Mister Braddock. I invent things."

Danny's lip trembled with emotion. Joe smiled. It felt good seeing his friend happy, if only for the moment.

Yune looked quite proud of himself, "It was based on a design created by the Monash University a few years ago. I just took it a step further."

"What is it like Danny?" asked Joe.

"It's...like a...I can't describe it!"

Yune took over, "He sees images relayed to his brain in a sort of expanded spectrum. The image to him would appear in three full dimensions, but no color; a small trade-off that I am still working on."

Joe looked incredulously at Yune, "What the hell kind of scientist are you?"

Yune shrugged, "One of the best, if you prefer," Yune looked at Joe up and down, "There is a first aid kit on that wall over there if you need it. You look terrible."

"Would there happen to be a tetanus booster in there?" Joe asked, hopefully.

"I think so. Call Olympus many things but unprepared is not one of them."

Joe went over to the first aid kit and opened it. While Yune asked Danny some questions about the glasses, Joe set to work fixing his many injuries. He removed his shirt and began to swab his open wounds with antiseptic and alcohol, sucking in his breath as the pain stung deeply. There was indeed a small booster shot for tetanus in the kit, as well as shots of epinephrine and adrenaline. He pulled down his fatigues on one side, quickly swabbed his thigh with alcohol, and jabbed the tetanus booster in. He broke the needle on the wall and tossed it away. Pulling his pants up, he finished off by bandaging his arm and swallowing several Tylenol for the pain.

All in all, Joe felt better than he had in days. He replaced his shirt. As he did, something caught his eye. In the corner of the room, off to the side by a large bunch of crates, was something draped in a white cloth.

"Doc, what's that?"

Yune looked over, "Oh that. It's something I was developing for the Japanese security force. Commander Dante wishes it to be completed for Olympus's use." He left Danny for a moment to practice with the eye device and joined Joe. He threw off the sheet. Joe gasped at the sight.

Yune smiled proudly, "This is my Whisper suit."

Under the sheet, draped over a metal mannequin was a large bodysuit like nothing Joe had ever seen. It looked like something out of a video game that the Ranger couldn't begin to describe. Fortunately, Doctor Yune was all too happy to oblige.

"It is a combination stealth/combat suit designed for infiltration and high-intensity battle. It was meant to turn a single soldier into a powerful one-man army, but..." Yune shook his head sadly, "I was unable to secure a contract for it in the Japanese Security Force, so they mothballed it."

Joe looked at the suit, perplexed, "What's it do?"

"Well, the entire suit is made up of several layers: the Outer layer is a combination of experimental Para-Aramyd metallic alloys weaved together with Rynohyde and Kevlar." He picked up the arm piece to show Joe an example. The dark cloth looked to Joe like a combination of blackened steel and smooth Kevlar armor, "Around certain areas of the suit, like the chest, legs, arms, and groin are several sheaths of ablative titanium; completely shock resistant."

Danny walked over to see what Yune was talking about.

"After the Outer layer is the Middle layer which includes a coolant delivery system interspersed within the micro-strands woven throughout the suit. This keeps the user cool, even in high-temperature areas." He pulled the suit towards them and showed them the interior, "Then there is the Inner layer which is equipped with Nanosensors and stretch aids, allowing the suit to mold to its user perfectly."

The scientist pointed at the outer mold of the suit. "The Skin layer includes a state of the art chemical that covers the entire outside surface of the suit. It can react to electronic impulses from within the suit's power core that allows the wearer to shroud...or become invisible if you like." Yune reached down to the small control panel attached to the suit's wrist gauntlet and pressed a button. The suit seemed to shimmer for a moment, as if trying to perform the 'shroud' Yune had described, but something malfunctioned and the suit only made a strange buzzing noise before returning to normal.

Yune frowned, "Ok...there are still a few bugs with the shroud, but I'm working on it."

Joe stared at the suit, completely dumbfounded. Despite the small malfunction, this suit was quite simply the most amazing thing Joe had ever seen in his life.

But Yune wasn't finished yet, "The entire suit is powered by a backpack power cell here, which I call the Accretion Device." He pointed at a large mass on the back of the suit. "The power core is also...experimental, but the suit is self-sustaining for some time, requiring re-distillation of its power cell every seventy-eight hours or so."

Yune finally pointed to the helmet. It resembled something like the shell of beetle, with no visible eye sockets at all, "The helmet provides the user with an advanced heads up display and cortical connectivity to the brain, allowing instantaneous access to suit functions just through conscious thought." Yune replaced the helmet. "That's pretty much it, besides some miscellaneous combat functions."

Joe had pretty much made up his mind by then, "Doc, we're taking your suit."

The blood from Yune's face drained away, "Excuse me?"

"Can this thing work for Danny?"

Callbeck looked at Joe, his mouth falling to the ground. Yune was flustered, "What? No...it...I...it cannot be used, it hasn't even been field-tested!"

Joe was willing to take the chance, "We're gonna give it one, Doc. Can you jury rig the helmet to allow Danny to use those glasses inside somehow?"

Yune, still unsure of the whole prospect, said, "Well, no I wouldn't need to. I designed the helmet to allow for a wide range of possible applicants. In fact, the ocular implants within the helmet are far better than even the glasses that you are currently wearing, Mr. Callbeck."

Joe felt as though they had fallen headfirst into a gold mine, "We're gonna be breaking out of here tomorrow, Dr. Yune. And you're going to help us."

### Chapter 8

Preparations

THE TWENTY-FOUR-hour clock on the wall read 02:00. _Good_ , thought Joe. _They haven't discovered we're missing yet_. He meant to keep it that way. A range of possible ideas for escape had been raging through Joe's mind since laying eyes on that suit. What was once impossible only a few hours earlier, now seemed almost slightly feasible.

Danny sat on the chair being examined by Yune. The doctor was concerned about Danny's eye injuries and wanted a closer examination. Joe took the time to check the rest of the lab for anything useful.

He found plenty.

Yune had told Joe the crates contained armaments and equipment. Several of them were loaded with every manner of weapon he could ask for—7.65mm Kalashnikov's, assorted carbines of European design, as well as several sets of M-16s, all probably stolen from the Afghan Security Force.

Joe picked up an AK, hoisting it in his hands, feeling the weight.

_Armed again_.

Yune looked at Joe, frowning, "I don't pretend to know what it is you're planning Mr. Braddock, but I can tell you now that even with the suit, you will need more men. From what I've been able to tell—at peak levels—there are usually over one-hundred Olympus troopers here, sometimes more."

Joe slapped a magazine into the Kalashnikov, thinking over the current situation. The Doc was right. There was enough ordinance here to start quite a fire, but they were only three people.

"Krieger," said Joe, the idea popping into his head.

Yune raised an eyebrow, "Excuse me?"

"That mean-looking Russian guy locked beside us upstairs. He can help us."

Danny looked up from the chair, "What about your men?"

Joe shook his head, "No, I won't be able to reach them in time. We'll need help to get them out."

Danny looked at Joe through the bionic sunglasses, "So what's your plan?"

Joe leaned against a small table, thinking aloud, "Well, we're gonna need to steal something to get out of here—a helicopter or truck or whatever." He fingered the machine gun absent-mindedly, feeling the comforting presence of the weapon, "How long will it take to calibrate the suit to Danny's body, Doc?"

Yune thought for a moment, "An optimistic guess would be about eight hours."

Joe hefted the gun, balancing the butt on his leg, "You've got four."

Yune was about to protest, then decided against it.

Joe continued laying out his plan, "With the equipment in this lab, it should be easy to open the iron doors on the cells. Do you have a powered saw or something like that, Doc?"

Yune nodded, "I have something even better: a plasma torch."

Joe raised an eyebrow, "Seriously?"

Yune reached over to a table beside him and picked up a small device the size of a handgun. He held it up for Joe to look at and pressed a button. Instantly a small blue flame spurt from the nozzle.

"Just point at what you need cut. Use the flip shield to protect from arc eye."

Joe nodded. "That's perfect. From there, I'll free Krieger, kill any bad guys I see, and release my men. From what I saw in the window of my cell, the motorcade was directly on the other side of the wall. We make our way through the outside parade yard and steal something, _anything_ that can drive and make our break for it."

Danny wasn't convinced. He murmured, "Just as easy as that huh? What'll I be doing?"

"Once Doctor Yune has that suit calibrated, rendezvous with us upstairs," Joe looked over at Yune, "You're gonna be coming with us Doc. Hope you don't mind."

Yune went green in the face for a moment, but the prospect of escape seemed to calm him back down. He nodded, "I think I've outstayed my welcome here in any case."

"Stay close to Danny. Make sure the suit will work as well as you can. This is our one shot; we have to make it count."

Danny Callbeck looked at Joe and rasped, "Joe, I hope you realize this is the most insane idea you've had since the day I had the misfortune of meeting you."

Joe smiled, standing back on his feet, "Trust me, bud. You ain't seen nothing yet."

* * *

"Alright Mr. Callbeck, hold still for a moment...I just need to..."

A spark from the strange tool Yune was using to calibrate the power cell flared up, forcing the scientist to jump back abruptly. Danny, now encased neck to foot in the darkened stealth armor, looked behind him, worriedly.

" _Kuso_!" Yune swore louder than he meant to.

"Doc, keep it down!" Joe called out in a forced whisper from across the room. It was nearly 04:00 and they had pressed their luck enough for one night. Any minute they could be found out and they were far from ready, "How's it going?"

Yune pulled the welding helmet off his face for a moment to reply, "The power cell isn't reacting the way I had hoped with the nano-fibers in the endocrine..."

"Abridged version doc!"

"It needs another three hours, Mr. Braddock."

Joe swore under his breath, "Just do what you can. He has to be ready by oh-six-hundred."

Danny rasped a nagging question he had, "Doctor, when you mentioned the suit's offensive capabilities, what did you mean?"

Yune talked while he worked, "Oh, of course, I forgot. I designed the suit to be highly efficient in hand-to-hand combat," Yune stood up from fixing the suit and walked over to the work table. He picked up a non-descript looking object about the size and shape of a police baton.

"I designed this to act as the standard offensive combat weapon for the suit."

Joe looked up from the crates he was rooting around in and glanced at the strange device. Danny watched as well, fascinated at the opportunity to see another of the Doctor's bizarre inventions.

"I call it the Mantis Staff, an extending bo staff made of a titanium-steel alloy." The Doctor pressed a tiny switch on the shaft of the weapon and within one second, the small foot-long rod sprung forth in both directions to reveal a six-foot-long quarterstaff. Yune held the weapon forward to Danny, who grasped it at the midsection.

"It's so light," remarked the Canadian, hefting the staff as he sat half in, half out of the suit.

Yune nodded, pointing at the toggle switch on the midsection of the staff as he talked, "Once pressed, the weapon springs forward utilizing a powerful mechanism that can also recoil it back to its original form in a single second."

"Are you sure you can use that thing, Danny?" asked Joe from the other side of the room. To him, it seemed like an odd choice for an offensive weapon.

Danny stood up for a moment, and gave the bo staff a quick flourish, "Kenpo teaches much about quarterstaff training, Joe. I think I can handle it."

Yune frowned and crossed his arms, "It is a highly useful tool as well, Sergeant Braddock. Believe me, Danny here will have great use for it."

"Sure, Doc, if you say so." By now, Joe had collected several useful items within a khaki survival bag taken from one of the many crates he had been rooting through. He'd also found some socks and a brand new pair of sneakers. The sneakers were a size too large, but Joe was still grateful for the protection. As he finished up checking the latest stack of crates, he came across a box-shaped differently than the rest. It was the shape and size of what looked like a large sniper rifle. Joe looked over at Yune again, asking, "Doc, do you know what this is?"

Yune looked up from his work. "That's an experimental gauss rifle. A coilgun I think is what the military calls it. It is a heavy weapon designed for the operator of the Whisper suit."

Joe opened the case. He sucked in his breath at the sight of the gun. It was huge—the size of an average Barrett .50 cal sniper rifle, but much... _weirder_ looking. The weapon was encased in a hefty polymer assembly that added significantly to its bulk. True to the name, a blue-colored coil wrapped around the barrel. Joe tried to lift the gun, but could barely manage to remove it from the case. He set it back down.

"What the hell good is a gun no one can lift?" Joe asked the Doctor.

Yune didn't look up as he spoke—focusing instead on his work, "The Whisper suit is designed with an internal muscle enhancement nano-fiber which greatly increases the user's strength. That gun was made to specifically be utilized and fired by the suit operator."

"How's it work?"

"It uses electromagnetic coils configured as a linear motor to accelerate a ferromagnetic projectile at extremely high velocities."

Joe stared blankly at the massive gun, "I have no idea what any of that means."

Yune chuckled as he continued to work on the suit. "When Olympus kidnapped me again, I was en-route to Pakistan to deliver the suit to NATO. The suit and that gun were developed at my old lab in Uzbekistan."

Joe stood up, closing the lid on the gun, "Kidnapped you again? You mean that was the second time?"

Yune nodded grimly, "Olympus kidnapped me over a year ago. I was forced to design everything from aerial drones to this suit you're wearing right now. I originally designed the suits for Olympus in a secret lab in Uzbekistan. I was rescued by a NATO strike team. They destroyed the base I was held at and were ferrying me back to Pakistan."

"You were lucky to get out alive huh?" said Joe.

"I barely got out with my life. We were on our way to the NATO command base in Islamabad when...Olympus attacked. I've been here ever since."

"What other suits?" asked Danny abruptly.

Yune was caught off guard by the question, "What do you mean?"

"You said you designed suits for Olympus. What other suits?"

Yune stopped working. He had said more than he had meant to. Joe walked over to join the pair.

The Doctor pushed his glasses back up on his nose, "There were two suits: this one and...Agrippina's."

There was that name again. "Who the hell is this Agrippina?" asked Joe.

"She is Olympus's best warrior—an assassin that has never failed to kill her intended target." Yune spoke as if evoking the woman's name caused him physical pain.

"...And she has one of these suits?" asked Joe, fearing the reply.

"Yes, and the suit she has is even more powerful than this one."

Joe looked at Danny, "Krieger was right. We'd better be on our way before this... _killer_ arrives.

* * *

THE CLOCK was steadily closing in on 05:00. Yune was still fast at work on the suit. Joe had waited long enough. He gathered up a large khaki survival bag he had loaded with ammunition and supplies. He had found a crate loaded with different types of NATO ammunition: hollow-points, full-metal jackets, and armor-piercing. For his own weapon, Joe had chosen a fully loaded AK-101 5.56 NATO Assault Rifle. The black chassis assault rifle resembled an AK-47 but was developed in Russia as a NATO counterpart to its better known Kalashnikov relative. He'd taped several ammo magazines loaded with armor-piercing bullets together to form a quick loading option. It was generally considered a no-no within the service, but Joe had never been much for playing by the rules. The armor-piercing rounds would hopefully give him an edge in dealing with the Centurion's ablative armor.

Joe had also chosen a Desert Eagle .357 pistol as a sidearm, as well as a silenced 9mm Beretta. He also chose a large M249 SAW machine gun for Krieger. The belt-fed MG made a terrific suppression weapon in the right hands. Joe inwardly hoped Krieger was up to the task.

Joe knew it was a huge risk, trusting the Russian. He just hoped that in this case, the enemy of his enemy was his friend.

Sadly, there had been no flak jackets in the crates and he couldn't spare more time to check the other hundred or so stacked throughout the room. Joe also found no grenades or other incendiaries.

Well, one can't be too lucky, can one?

He also found two sets of Bluetooth radio earpieces. He tossed one to the doctor. When he offered one to Danny, Yune shook his head, "He won't be able to wear it once the helmet is secure." He saw Joe's worried reaction, "Don't worry, there is a Bluetooth uplink built into the helmet Mr. Callbeck can use to contact us with."

Danny was almost ready. Joe stepped in front of his friend, looking him up and down. Danny smiled, "How do I look?"

"Like Robocop if he hated himself."

Danny grinned, "I guess this is it," he said after a moment of reflection.

Joe nodded, "You okay with the plan?"

"I think so. I just hope this thing works," he said, gesturing to the suit.

Dr. Yune finished connecting the clamps on the back of the suit, making sure they were firm, "It will. I promise."

Joe sucked in a breath and let it out, "Ok, first I'm—"

A knock resounded from the main lab door.

Joe whipped around, AK at the ready.

A muffled voice came from behind the iron door, "Doctor Yune, why is this door locked?"

Joe gestured for Yune to follow him, mouthing 'answer him' as he ran towards the door as quietly as he could, swapping the AK for the silenced Berretta.

Yune called out, "Sorry, I was...prepping an important test that I couldn't be disturbed for!"

The voice replied sternly, "Open the door right now, Yune!"

Joe gestured for the Doctor to move to the opposite side of the door so he would be the first thing whoever was on the other side would see. Joe slowly put a hand on the trocar and pulled it free—the silenced 9mm held at the ready. He nudged the door open.

"You ever lock this door again Doc and I'll..."

The trooper never got to finish his threat. As soon as the Centurion's helmeted head was in view, Joe shot him point-blank. The 9mm slug ripped through the visor of the trooper's helmet, splattering his face across the wall inside the lab. He collapsed in a heap. Joe set the gun down and hefted the trooper through the door, closing it behind them. Yune helped him pull the corpse into the middle of the room. Dropping the body, Joe sprinted back over to the door, replaced the trocar, and retrieved his pistol.

"Well, that's torn it," Joe said, checking the safety on the weapon. "I bet we have ten minutes before they miss this asshole and come looking for him." Joe ran over and grabbed his AK and supplies, "Work fast Doc. I'm heading back up. You have ten minutes, give or take, so make sure you're ready."

Danny gave a thumbs up, "We'll be fine Joe. Give Krieger my regards."

Joe nodded and ran behind the crates. He shoved the equipment into the duct before pulling himself through.

* * *

JOE'S RETURN trip through the air duct was going to be much harder the second time. As he moved, he pulled out a small pen flashlight he'd found amidst the supplies. Sticking it in his mouth, he turned it on. Since he would be going upwards through the duct, he would have to make more noise, possibly alarming anyone in the vicinity. It hardly mattered anymore. The jig would be up in a few more minutes. He had to get back to his room and get Krieger out of his cell.

Joe hoped the Russian wasn't all talk. Otherwise, this would be a very short escape. It occurred to him that he was relying on a man he knew nothing about except his word. If Joe was wrong about him...

The Ranger pushed the thought aside. There were still a hundred things that could go wrong with this stunt and he wasn't going to worry about all of them at once. As he shuffled along, he attached the Bluetooth receiver to his ear. Dr. Yune had calibrated it earlier, but Joe hadn't tested it yet. He keyed the device on and spoke softly, removing the flashlight from his mouth to speak.

"Test...test...Yune do you read?"

" _I read_ you, _Joe."_ Yune's voice came in a bit too loud. Joe adjusted the tiny volume dial.

"How's it going?"

" _Mr. Callbeck is almost_ finished _. We'll be ready."_

"Good. Keep me posted." Joe picked up the pace, pushing himself as hard as he dared through the duct. It was getting progressively warmer as he ascended; the sun should already be up by now, heating the prison upstairs like a furnace.

The sound of voices below him forced Joe to a frenzied halt. He gritted his teeth, praying to whatever deity was listening that no one had heard him. After a few moments, the muffled voices faded away. Letting out a sigh of relief, Joe continued on his way.

A few nerve-wracking minutes later, he'd arrived at his cell.

Joe approached it cautiously, just in case they had discovered his little ruse. He looked through the hole where the grate had been:

Nothing.

The cell was as empty as they had left it six hours ago. Pushing the pack of supplies through first, Joe pulled his body from the narrow duct with a sharp grunt.

Luck is with you so far, Braddock.

He set the pack of supplies on the bed and removed the SAW M249. He set it and four fifty-round magazines of armor-piercing ammunition on the bed beside it. Placing the weapons and equipment on the bed, he would have it at the ready to give to Krieger once he had freed the Russian from his cell.

Joe moved to the door and set his ear against it, listening into the hallway. It must still be early because there was no sound at all. He removed the small plasma-cutting tool Doctor Yune had given him and ignited it. Averting his eyes, he swiftly cut the hinges off of the small window in the door. Turning off the cutter, he swung the window back and looked through, his AK at the ready.

There was no one in the hallway. On the opposite side of the corridor, Krieger's window was open.

Just be lucky a bit longer.

Joe called out as loudly as he dared, "Krieger! Krieger, wake up!"

No response.

_Where_ the hell is _he?_

He tried again, "Krieger wake up, damn you!"

The sound heavy snoring came from the room.

Exasperated, Joe looked around for an idea...any idea.

He got one.

Reaching down, he picked up a small pebble that had been tracked into his cell. Aiming it through the cell window carefully, he flicked it into Krieger's cell.

A loud call resounded from the room, " _Chto za_ huy, who is hitting me with rocks?"

"It's me, Joe Braddock! Wake the hell up!"

Krieger's rugged face filled the window of his cell, "Joe! My American friend! I tried calling you at night and you not answer?"

"Shut up and let me talk! We're getting out right now. Are you ready?"

"Ready? I am Russian! I was born ready my friend. What is plan?"

Abruptly the Bluetooth device on Joe's ear burbled loudly. He clicked it on.

"This is Joe."

It was Dr. Yune that answered, " _Joe, we have a bit of a problem_."

Joe tensed, "What is it?"

" _Well..."_ the doctor seemed to hesitate, " _Danny is unconscious and there's a lot of very angry troopers outside our door and they really want in_."

At that precise second, the fortress alarm sounded.

Krieger laughed, "I guess it's time we leave, huh my friend?"

### Chapter 9

Rise of a Warrior

TWO MINUTES before Joe arrived back in the cell, Doctor Yune had finally finished calibrating the suit. All that was left was the helmet. Danny tried to get up, but was almost forced back down; the suit weighed a ton.

"Doc, I can barely move," Danny rasped.

"Do not worry, once the suit's compensator units have been activated, it will feel as light as air." Yune pushed the helmet over Callbeck's head and slide it into the proper attachments. He then made a few small adjustments on the metallic wrist bracers that surrounded Danny's arms. On the right wrist was the general control panel for the suit's primary power control. Before Yune activated it, he paused to ask Danny a final question.

"How does it feel?" asked Yune, bracing himself.

"I don't feel anything," replied Danny, his raspy voice barely registering through the helmet.

Yune smiled, "No, but you will."

And with that, he activated the power core.

The entire suit convulsed in a frenzy of pent-up energy. A massive surge of electrical power shot through Danny's body, jolting him to his feet. He vaguely thought he heard Doctor Yune explaining the effects, but the pain was too unbearable for him to listen.

"The suit is going to latch itself onto your endocrine system. The initial pain should last a few seconds. The electric impulses are a result of the suit stabilizing to the power core frequency. Don't fight it!"

Danny writhed as the suit came alive. Power pulsed through his nervous center unheeded, fusing the suit to his nerves in an orgiastic explosion of electricity. Yune stood back, marveling at the result of the combination of machine and man. Danny Callbeck was being physically attached to a symbiotic entity.

Danny lurched to his feet. The pain didn't subside.

"I...can't...take...turn it off!"

It felt like the suit was cooking him alive. Danny walked a few agonizing paces, before being brought to his knees. The pain was like a rebirth. He was being recreated as something new. Something formidable.

The pain became excruciating. He fell to his hands and knees as the suit burned with a near white-hot intensity. Danny howled in pain.

And then it was over.

* * *

DANNY FELL to the side. The suit was smoking; an acrid smell drifted into the air. Yune rushed to the Canadian's side.

"Mr. Callbeck? Danny, are you alright?"

No answer came from the man in the suit.

Suddenly a loud pounding sounded from the door.

"Open the door immediately, Dr. Yune!" came a voice the scientist could only assume was an Olympus trooper. The banging grew louder. There were definitely more than a few of them outside the lab. The door was not going to hold long.

Yune tapped the Bluetooth device on his ear to speak to Joe. His voice came back, loud and clear.

" _This is Joe_."

"Joe, we have a bit of a problem," said Yune

" _What is it?"_

"Well...Danny is unconscious and there's a lot of very angry troopers outside our door and they _really_ want in."

The fortress alarm began to sound. Yune's heart started to jackhammer. He pounded on the suit. "Wake up Danny! Wake up!"

The door pounded again and again. The hinges were going to come loose in a minute.

Yune could only sit by his unconscious companion's side and wait.

* * *

AS THE alarm blared through the fortress, Joe had to act quickly. He keyed his mic, and said, "You're gonna have to sit tight, Doc. I've got incoming of my own."

He powered on the plasma cutter and worked on the hinges of the cell door. The cheap iron construction gave way to Yune's superior technology almost instantly. He kicked the door open and raised his rifle, covering the hallway.

Krieger laughed from behind his cell, "Excellent my friend. Now get me out."

Joe had to be sure, "If I do, you follow my orders to the letter, clear?"

"Come on and let me out!"

"Not until you swear. Follow my orders or sit in there and rot!"

Krieger grimaced. There was a brief moment when Joe though the man's pride would win out, but eventually the Russian nodded.

"Alright, tovarisch, I swear. I follow you wherever you go."

Joe nodded, "I'll hold you to it. Stand back."

Krieger did so. Joe pocketed the arc welder and brandished his .357. There was no point in silence anymore. He fired two bullets evenly at the iron hinges on Krieger's door. It came apart with ease. Holstering the pistol, he hoisted his AK-101 and spotted down the hallway.

"Door's open, come on!"

Krieger smashed through the door with a powerful kick. It was now Joe finally got a good look at the mercenary. He was nearly six-foot-six, a solid two-hundred thirty pounds of iron-hard muscle. He wore a foul looking pair of old jeans and a gray t-shirt. His left arm was stenciled with intricate tattoos Joe couldn't decipher. He'd been right about one thing—this guy had the look of a born killer and a killer was what he needed right now.

Krieger laughed, "Ha! Private Military motherfuckers! Try keeping this bad boy caged!"

"Shut up and grab a gun from my cell!"

The big merc seemed to be loving this, but he did as he was told. "Ahh good, you have a SAW! Now I feel like man again!"

Joe spared a glance and saw Krieger checking the sight on the machine gun. "Take what you need and get out here!" he said, raising the AK to his shoulder, "I can hear them coming now!"

Sure enough, the sound of boots falling on hard concrete reverberated through the fortress. Joe knew they had to move quickly if they were to avoid getting boxed in. Krieger appeared at the edge of the cell door, staying in cover. He had the extra magazines attached to an ammo bandolier draped around his neck.

Joe moved to the cover provided on the opposite side of the corridor in Krieger's cell, AK at the ready, "Here they come!"

At the moment, a loud rumble shook the foundations of the fortress. Dust poured from the rafters and Joe had to right himself before he could be thrown off his feet.

Krieger looked around in wonder, "What in God's name was that?"

Joe knew immediately, "Danny."

* * *

DANNY CALLBECK had lain in a heap for over sixty seconds. The explosive force of the suit powering on had overloaded his brain and caused him to blackout. But the sight that awaited him when he came to was worth every bit of that pain.

This time, unlike with the sunglasses before, he could see perfectly.

Doctor Yune hadn't been lying about the suit providing even better imaging to his ocular senses. It wasn't perfect, but the view that was beamed into his mind's eye by the suit's ocular functions was extraordinary. The suit projected a heads-up-display straight into his mind, giving him an amazing view.

Of course, he was flat on his back and his view at the moment was the ceiling of the lab.

A familiar voice above him was yelling loudly.

"Danny, wake up! They're coming in!"

Danny had never felt so alive in his life. The past few days of endless darkness were like a bad dream.

He felt reborn.

Now it was time to save his comrades in arms.

Yune was about to hit the suit again when Danny raised an arm to halt him. He slowly got to his feet, the suit doing all of the work, making it feel effortless. He felt as light as a feather.

A loud sound erupted at the door.

The troopers were shooting their way through.

Not much time.

Danny looked over at the Gauss Rifle, beckoning from its case in the corner.

Inside the suit, he smiled.

He jogged over, leaned down, and hoisted the massive weapon in his hands. Thumbing on the power switch, he felt the cannon charge up in his arms.

"Danny, they're almost in!" yelled Yune.

Callbeck walked back to stand in front of the almost-destroyed door. He leveled the gigantic rifle at it.

Before he blew it and every soldier behind it straight to kingdom come, he spoke quietly.

"Danny Callbeck is gone. My name is Whisper now."

### Chapter 10

Run, Shoot, Jump

KRIEGER LOOKED at Joe in disbelief, "Danny? You mean the Eskimo blind man with you?"

Joe rolled his eyes. "Yes, that guy. And he's Inuit not Eskimo."

"Sorry, sorry, just not up on all your politically correct American names."

_God this guy is annoying,_ thought Joe, as he aimed the AK-101 from his bent-kneed position. Danny must have used the Gauss rifle. That meant the Doctor had finished the suit in time.

Joe felt several more explosions wrack the fortress beneath them. _Danny must be having a hell of a time down there_ , he thought.

Krieger leveled his SAW, prepping the heavy machine gun.

"Here they come, my friend," said Krieger, his muscular arms gripping the weapon lovingly.

"Their armor is weakest in the arms and helmet visor," said Joe. "These weapons are loaded with armor-piercing rounds, but I have no idea how well they'll work against the Centurion's uniforms. Pick your shots carefully."

Krieger nodded, his flippant tone growing serious, "Mmm... _Dah_."

"We need to fight them back and make our way towards the other cells. Once there, you watch my back as I free my men."

"Sounds like a plan. Good luck, my friend!"

Joe nodded, "Same to you." Joe waited for another few seconds. As soon as he saw the glowing green tint of the first Olympus Centurion's visor, he opened fire, unleashed a torrent of bullets at the lead trooper. He saw his first burst catch the soldier in the helmet visor, snapping the Centurion's neck back as his face exploded in a burst of chrome and bloody viscera.

Krieger opened up with the SAW MG. The gun was so powerful, it almost split Joe's eardrum from his position parallel to the Russian. Krieger fired the massive gun from waist level, barely seeming to aim the weapon, but hitting his targets with outstanding accuracy. Joe saw two Centurions torn apart by the force of the high-bore bullets ripping through their bodies. Their surprise attack had worked for the time being, but now the Olympus troops would be prepared.

The fluorescent lights above started to flicker on and off. Even though it was morning outside, the fortress relied on artificial light for its operation. _Danny must be wreaking havoc with that gun down below_ , thought Joe, firing another steady burst from his AK. The feeding mechanism clicked dry on an empty magazine.

Joe shouted out loudly, "Changing!"

Krieger took the initiative and unleashed a massive burst of fire from the SAW. Joe ejected the spent magazine and speedily flipped it around to the alternate magazine taped to the side. He slapped the magazine in place, yanked back on the charging handle, and continued firing.

"Changing!" shouted Krieger, doing the same with his SAW. The large gun took a few extra seconds to load due to its size and bulkiness. Krieger handled the weapon as if it were the easiest thing in the world. As the Russian reloaded, Joe's clip ran dry. He ejected the spent dual cartridge and prepared a fresh taped magazine.

They were doing well but needed to move soon, else they'd be bogged down and eventually overwhelmed.

Krieger made the first move, "Alright, American hero, follow me!" The Russian continued to underarm the SAW, firing it for all it was worth. His face drew back in a wide grin, his eyes furrowed as he spread massive firepower at his enemies. Joe hoped he had made the right choice letting this guy out of his cell. For all he knew, he probably belonged in there. Krieger looked back for a quick second to make sure Joe was following, "You coming?"

Joe shouted, "You're crazy!"

Krieger laughed, "Crazy? I am _certifiable_ my friend!" He continued to blaze away with the MG. Joe saw the Russian tag two more approaching Olympus Centurions, the massive gun tearing through the trooper's helmets like tin foil. Joe followed after the big merc, leaving the safe cover of the iron door. Running as fast as he could down the hall, he reached the next available shelter: a protruding piece of concrete large enough for him to place his body.

The Centurions had taken the brunt of the attack, losing at least eight men by now. Joe and his mercenary friend were doing unbelievably well.

Just let that luck hold up for a few more minutes.

Joe guessed he was about fifty feet from the cells holding his men.

So close!

Another massive explosion under their feet almost sent Joe reeling into the wall in front of him. He clicked the Bluetooth headset and spoke quickly, "Danny, do you read me? Come in!"

A Centurion popped his head out from cover ahead for a brief second, just long enough for Joe to tag him clean through the visor of his helmet. The trooper dropped to the ground like an overturned trash can. After another few seconds of dead silence over the comm, Danny's voice finally came through loud and clear.

" _Go, Sergeant_!"

"What the hell are you guys doing down there?"

" _Just cleaning house_."

Another explosion rattled the ground.

Joe was exasperated, "I need you guys up here right now! Whatever the hell it is you're doing, wrap it up!"

" _Stand by, Joe. I've got problems of my own right now_."

"Danny, what are you up to?"

The comm went quiet.

What on earth was that Canadian doing?

* * *

"...I've got problems of my own right now," said the man now calling himself Whisper as he marched out of the lab and fired one final shot from the Gauss rifle. A brilliant bolt of electromagnetic fire flared through the air leaving a coil-like trail of smoke. The projectile flew towards his expected target: a small squad of Olympus Centurions ducking behind a collection of crates and barrels collected to the side of the corridor beyond the lab.

Whisper watched in fascination as the charged bolt of energy hit the crates and splintered apart, tearing through the material (and the men) in a spectacular force of power. The troopers were thrown away from their cover like ragdolls, landing in contorted heaps on the ground.

_Nice_.

The hallway leading away from the lab Whisper and Doctor Yune had escaped from was a spectacular mess. Littered around the destroyed doorway to Dr. Yune's lab were the bodies of some twenty Centurions, blown apart from the powerful force of the Gauss rifle. Several more troopers had attempted to rush their location but had been summarily torched by the coilgun.

The corridor was unbelievably huge. It was more like a cavern—a hollowed-out mountainous interior with metal flooring and doors here and there going to different supply areas. The hallway was modestly lit, with fluorescent lights strung along the rocky walls. It stretched on for several hundreds of feet, though it probably went further, as the corridor made a sharp curve some two hundred feet in.

The suit was handling beautifully. Danny had never in his life felt so powerful. He had to tell himself not to get too taken away by it.

_You may be Whisper now, but your heart is still the same. Don't let your friends down_.

Doctor Yune followed closely behind Whisper, using the suit as cover.

"How do you feel, Mr. Callbeck?" asked Yune apprehensively.

"Fine Doctor," the voice box rasped its reply, translating Danny's voice into an odd robotic tone, "But you can call me Whisper. I think it suits this getup a bit better, don't you think?"

Yune seemed to muse over that for a moment, "Alright Dan...Whisper, sorry. Let's get out of here."

Whisper nodded, "Okay, Doctor, show me the way."

"Just head straight through the corridor, around the curve. We will come to a freight elevator. Take it up and we will be near the motorcade."

The circular corridor almost felt like it was surrounding something—like there was another segment of the base beyond the boundaries of the rock walls.

As they jogged through the hallway, Whisper looked over at Yune and asked, "Doctor, just how big is this place?"

Yune pushed his glasses up, "The mountain was hollowed out during the Russian-Afghan war in the 80s, as far as I know. It was going to be used by the Russians as some sort of staging ground. After the fall of the Soviet Union, it fell into disrepair." The scientist was keeping up with Whisper well, but he wasn't in peak shape like his companion.

As they ran, he noticed large collections of what appeared to be drones similar to the one they had seen back in the village in Afghanistan scattered along the sides of the corridor.

"Doctor, what are those things?"

Yune spoke quickly as they jogged, "Surveillance drones I designed for data and cryptology analysis."

Whisper was about to ask more when something alerted the sensors in his Heads-Up-Display.

"Stop right now!" Whisper barked.

Yune did as he was told, moving to stand behind Whisper. The corridor was beginning to lose electricity; several of the passageway lights began flickering on and off. _The shooting must have damaged a circuit somewhere_ , thought Whisper as he scanned the area ahead of him. The mountain interior had been sprayed with some sort of solidifying agent, giving the walls of the under complex a slightly shiny look. This base was certainly a marvel of engineering.

With a base as advanced as this, why keep us imprisoned upstairs in such a shitty old fortress?

The thought nagged at him as he searched the corridor. Not entirely satisfied, he turned to Dr. Yune. "I guess it's nothing Doc. Let's keep mov..."

Almost too late, Whisper heard the sound of a flying projectile heading straight for him. The suit helped him to pivot out of the way as the flying weapon spun past him and embedded itself in the metal floor. Whisper could see that it resembled a ninja shuriken, or 'throwing star'.

What the hell?

More stars split the air, twirling at him with unerring accuracy. The suit's advanced reflexes gave Whisper far superior reflexes, but two found their mark anyway, embedding in the Rynohyde weave in his left arm and lower leg. The one in his leg didn't hurt, but the shuriken in his arm had somehow cut through the bulletproof Kevlar mesh and had stuck painfully in his flesh. His suit's sensors registered an injury. The HUD showed him the suit was beginning to commit resources to the damaged area to negate pain and enhance muscle efficiency.

"Doctor, get behind there..." said Whisper, pointing to a large mass of technical equipment scattered against the wall. Yune did as he was told—diving against the machinery for cover as several shurikens struck the floor around him.

After taking a quick second to yank out the shurikens, Whisper hefted the gauss rifle—aiming around wildly at his invisible foe, "What the hell is out there, Doctor?"

Yune yelled out from behind the small cargo loader he had chosen to hide behind, "It's the Praetorian!"

"What?"

"The Praetorian Guard! Olympus's elite cyber-enhanced soldiers!"

Whisper had no idea what that meant and he didn't care to find out. He hefted the gauss rifle and began firing rapidly at the general direction of the shurikens.

Yune called out, trying to warn his companion, "Danny they can't be hit by guns, they're too fast!"

"Why can't I see them?" asked Whisper, ceasing fire.

"You will in a moment. They're using optical camo, similar to what your suit is capable of, but more...refined. They will try to rush you!"

Whisper dropped the rifle on the ground beside him. He used the HUD to call up his Sergeant on the comm.

A voice answered, the crack of gunfire resounding in the background, " _This is Joe, where are_ you, _Danny? We need backup A-_ sap!"

"Joe, I've got a problem here. You're going to have to get the men out yourself. I'll join you as soon as I can. I am sending Doctor Yune up through the freight elevator. Make sure to meet him there." He switched off the comm before Joe could respond.

It was then the so-called Praetorian soldiers decided to show themselves.

Five bizarre looking figures materialized in front of Whisper, running fast towards him. They were clad head to toe in high-tech battle armor that seemed to shimmer as they ran. Their faces were covered with oddly-shaped helmets resembling—if Whisper had to guess—a coyote. They ran in perfect unison, each seeming to react to the others' moves in turn.

Time to see what this suit can really do.

He reached for the extendable Mantis Staff on his leg, withdrew it, and thumbed it on. The foot-long stick of smart-steel alloy drew two-and-a-half additional feet at each end, transforming it into a potent weapon. Whisper flourished the staff, preparing to meet his enemies head-on. He knew he was facing elite soldiers, just by their speed and gait.

This would be it. This would be his test to see if this suit and his skill would measure up.

The Praetorians, in perfect unison, withdrew wickedly sharp katana blades from sheaths on their backs.

Spirits of my fathers!

The prayer flowed through his mind, focusing his warrior reflexes in preparation for combat.

"Yune, get up and get to the elevator. Joe's waiting for you. I'll take care of these fools!"

Yune didn't ask questions. Instead, he ran with all his might towards the end of the corridor and the elevator that lay beyond. The Praetorians paid no heed to the Doctor—their prize was the cyber soldier dead ahead. Danny judged that they had little use in Yune anymore, now that the suit was activated. He was the new catch of the day. When the Praetorians were ten feet from him, they each broke apart to engage Whisper at a different interval. The one to the left leaped into the air like a Russian jig dancer, pirouetting mid-flight to head straight for Whisper's chest. The other four held back a brief second as if to see what their friend had planned. Whisper dodged the attack, spinning to the side with more finesse than he would have thought possible in the Whisper suit. When the trooper landed, he spun around immediately, trying to remove Whisper's head with the razor-sharp katana. Whisper met the attack with the Bo-staff, deflecting the sword in a shower of sparking metal.

Nice try.

He spun the Mantis Staff in a wide arc and managed to connect with the trooper's helmet. The blow knocked the soldier off his feet, dropping him to the ground. Before the trooper had a chance to right himself, Whisper curb-stomped the Praetorian with his armored foot. A soggy _crunch_ resounding from the helmet informed Whisper he had permanently dealt with his enemy.

While he had tussled with the first elite trooper, the other four closed the space between them and were moving quickly to skewer Whisper with their katana blades. He met them in a barrage of flourishes—parrying each weapon thrust in turn. The dance of death continued for several seconds, as the four coyote-headed soldiers tried to outmaneuver the armored Canadian. As Whisper fought, he could tell his suit was more advanced than theirs—it was the four on one odds that were making the difference.

He had to even the playing field.

Whisper deflected a blow from the nearest trooper—moving the bo-staff to his left as he lashed out with his right. He caught the elite soldier by the wrist. Whisper used the suit's strength enhancers to pull the guardsman off balance and fling him across the corridor. The Praetorian sailed through the air like a shot-put. The Olympus soldier hit the wall with a bone-shattering _smash_ and fell to the ground without a twitch.

A third Praetorian guardsman decided to press his advantage and charged Whisper - katana held high to cut his enemy in two. Whisper bolted forwards with renewed vim and launched himself up into a flying jump kick. The suit took care of the rest. He connected with the Praetorian's head with such force, an audible snap reverberated from its neck and he spun unnaturally forward, ass over teakettle before falling to the ground in a busted heap.

Three down, two to go.

Whisper's brief feeling of triumph lasted only a brief second. In the negligible amount of time his back was turned, the fourth trooper had rushed forward with his katana and stabbed through the unshielded part of Whisper's leg.

The Canadian concealed a cry of pain, instead focusing his rage on the sheer punishment of the trooper who had somehow managed to hurt him. Danny grabbed the guardsman by the throat and lifted him off his feet. The Whisper suit surged with energy, increasing his strength tenfold. As he lifted the man, Whisper turned the soldier upside down and with all his might, drove the Praetorian's head into the metal floor.

The force was so powerful, the Praetorian's head smashed apart in a shower of sparks, brains, and blood.

The last trooper witnessed the grisly demise of his friend and seemed to rethink the logic of attacking such a powerful foe. Whisper looked down at the blood-dripping blade protruding from his leg. Amazingly, it hardly hurt. The suit HUD displayed a reading showing resources being distributed through the inner layer of the suit to the wounded area, increasing his pain tolerance.

While the last Praetorian rethought his plan, Whisper gripped the blade of the sword. With a sharp push, he pulled it back out. The demonstration seemed to help make up the Praetorian's mind. He twisted around and began running in the opposite direction. Whisper smiled inside the suit. He pulled back the sword and threw it with all his might. It spun end over end before burying itself through the Praetorian trooper's neck. The Olympus guardsman staggered for a brief moment before making a sick choking noise as he made a futile attempt to remove the blade protruding from his windpipe. A second later, he crumpled to the ground, dead as Dillinger.

Whisper was barely breathing hard. His leg stung from the sword wound, but the suit was doing an admirable job delegating resources to the traumatized area to mitigate the pain. Whisper retrieved the gauss rifle and jogged towards the freight elevator. By now, Yune should be upstairs. All Whisper had to do was follow him up and they'd be well rid of this godforsaken place.

That is if Joe managed to hold things together upstairs.

### Chapter 11

Two Against One

THE FIREFIGHT in the cell raged white-hot. Joe fired his AK with furious abandon, trying to suppress the remaining Olympus Centurions surging towards his and Krieger's position. They hadn't made any progress towards the Ranger cells.

In fact, they were being steadily pushed back towards their cells.

Krieger looked to Joe, slapping a fresh magazine into the underside of the SAW, "They are like cockroaches, yeah?"

"We need to even the odds!" Joe shouted back.

"No problem friend! You have LAWs rocket or something in your back pocket?"

_Cute_. Joe looked around the dusty corridor for something, _anything_ they could use.

He saw it.

A red fire extinguisher hanging on the opposite wall, about ten feet in front of Krieger.

"Cover me!" yelled Joe, moving into a low hustle towards the hanging fire extinguisher.

Krieger fired the SAW for all it was worth. Another Centurion buckled under the onslaught of bullets, his armor failing to stand up to the high-powered machine gun rounds.

Joe's mad dash brought him almost into the direct line of fire from the Centurions. He felt the hot sensation of flying lead whiz by his head at nine-hundred meters per second. He ducked into cover underneath the fire extinguisher a fraction of a second before a dozen rounds tore up the ground where he had just been. Pausing for a quick breath, he reached up and unhooked the fire extinguisher.

"Krieger, let this get over their heads, then light it up!"

" _Dah_ , my friend!"

With a loud grunt, Joe threw the fire extinguisher towards the remaining Centurions. A bullet clipped his ear, tearing a tiny chunk of skin from the lobe. He pulled back abruptly, pain flashing through his head.

The fire extinguisher sailed through the air. Krieger pulled the SAW up to his eye line and roared, " _Dostvodanya_!"

The SAW spat fire.

The bullets found their mark and the fire extinguisher exploded in a shower of fragments and compressed air. Joe peeked out from cover just in time to see the explosion rip apart four Centurions, leaving one Olympus asshole standing intact. Joe pulled his .357 and fired three shots. The Centurion's helmet shattered to pieces in a rain of brains and blood. His corpse dropped to the floor to join his dead comrades.

For the first time in five agonizing minutes, the corridor was quiet—except for the blaring alarm system. Joe looked back at Krieger, nodding his thanks, "Good shooting."

Krieger gave a thumbs up, "I do my best, my friend."

The clock was still ticking.

_Time to act and get my guys out_. Joe led Krieger forward, making their way past the small heap of bodies piled on the ground where the Centurions had suffered the most casualties. Joe retrieved his AK and kept it leveled towards the far end of the corridor. From his hazy memory of two days ago, Joe estimated that it was another forty feet and they would be at the POW cells.

Joe's heart pounded.

He called out, "Rangers? It's Sergeant Braddock! Sound off!"

No reply. Joe prayed they weren't too late.

* * *

THE CORRIDOR was full of haze from the explosion of the fire extinguisher. Joe and Krieger pushed their way forwards through the dust, weapons at the ready in case of any contacts.

Krieger whispered to Joe quietly, "The freight elevator is just past the prisoner cells. Thirty feet beyond, give or take."

Joe nodded, eyes peeled. In the distance, outside of the fortress in the yard, he could hear the vague noises of vehicles being started and what sounded like a helicopter powering on. They were quickly running out of avenues of escape.

Through the haze, Joe saw several figures standing at the far end of the prison corridor. As the haze began to clear, Joe's blood froze as his whole plan was turned upside down.

Commander Dante stood like a dark monolith at the end of the corridor, backed by a squad of Centurions. The five surviving Army Rangers were clustered on the floor—the Centurions' weapons trained upon them. Their arms were bound roughly behind them, with gags stuffed in their mouths. At Dante's side was Doctor Yune, on his knees. Dante stood amidst these poor men with a look of vile satisfaction stretched across his bloodless lips.

The Olympus Commander had beaten them to their quarry.

"That was all very impressive, my friends," Dante said, "but the end has finally come."

Joe and Krieger ducked behind stone outcroppings in the prison corridor, doing their best to shield themselves in case Dante opened fire. Joe peered out, his mind racing at what to do next. No matter how he reasoned it out, there was nothing he could do to save his men at the moment. The ball was in Dante's corner now.

Dante kept his hands in his pockets, seemingly having nothing to fear from his enemies, "I suppose you are expecting your armored friend, Mr. Callbeck to come and save you, am I right?" He looked over at the freight elevator. It was a rather large contraption, with a yellow painted steel lattice covering the entranceway. Dante smiled, having a moment of inspiration. He walked to the elevator—eyes never leaving Joe and Krieger—and hit the elevator SEND button. With a grinding of machinery, the elevator gears began to lower the platform back downstairs.

Out of the pockets of his tan coat, Dante withdrew what looked to Joe to be several hand-grenades, though they didn't resemble any he'd ever seen. Dante pressed a button on each in turn then tossed them casually down the elevator shaft.

"Let's see if your friend can dodge those."

Joe shouted furiously into his mic, "Danny, clear the elevator right now! Frags incoming!"

* * *

WHISPER JOGGED up to the elevator. Perched on pylons beside the door were oscillating yellow lights that signaled elevator usage. As he reached the loading area, the lights turned on, warning that the elevator was heading back down. _Good_ , Whisper thought to himself, _Dr. Yune had made it to the top and had to be sending the elevator back down to him_. He waited dutifully at the bottom, gauss rifle firmly in hand, just in case anything else came his way.

Joe's comm call came almost a second too late.

" _...right now! Frags incoming!"_

The words clicked in Whisper's mind. As the elevator platform came into sight beyond the yellow mesh safety door, three distinctive black objects hit the platform in unison.

Whisper had one second to act before he would be blown to pieces.

* * *

DANTE WINCED as the loud explosion caused the elevator to buckle and then break apart, sending the platform plummeting down. The entire fortress seemed to shake from the force of the elevator crashing beneath them.

Joe hit the comlink again, "Danny do you read? Danny come in, over?"

No reply. Joe looked at Krieger, who responded with a shake of the head.

Dante looked to his Centurions and barked an order, "Take the Rangers to the helicopter. Transfer them to Site Two immediately."

The Centurions watching the Rangers nodded. They prodded the POWs to their feet and led them outside into the yard, out of Joe's sight.

Joe couldn't stomach watching them leave, "Dante you sonofabitch! Leave my men alone! Take me but let them go!"

Dante laughed loudly, "You have it backward, Sergeant Braddock. I don't want them...I want you. I've been out of the field too long. I think I need some exercise."

Dante pulled his hand back and bashed Yune on the head with the underside of his palm. Yune fell forward, senseless. Dante walked towards Joe and Krieger, replacing his hands in his pockets.

"Tell you what, boys...I'll give you a free shot. Take it and when I'm dead there should probably be enough time to save your comrades." He stood thirty feet from Joe and Krieger, completely unafraid. "What do you say?"

Joe gritted his teeth before barking, "SHOOT HIM!"

He unloaded every bullet left in his AK at the beast. Krieger leveled his SAW and fired continuously, pumping round after round into Dante's massive form. The beast jerked forward, raising his hand in front of his face as bullets ripped through his jacket, tearing it to pieces. As Joe's AK clicked on a dry magazine, he saw Dante was still standing. Krieger's SAW ran dry as well. Both men could only stare at the impossible sight.

Dante lowered his hand, then dusted the remains of his jacket, his highly amused grin widening even more, "That the best you two have? Pity." He removed the jacket's tattered remains. Joe's breath caught in his throat as he saw Dante's body. The man was clad neck to toe in a massive suit of body armor. It resembled Danny's Whisper suit, but way bigger and armored with RynoHyde Kevlar rather than steel. Dante stood amidst the hallway—a thing of nightmares.

Krieger looked apprehensively at Joe, "If you have some sort of plan, let me in on it, dah?"

Joe set his AK aside, then shoved his .357 magnum into his belt behind his back.

"There's one of him and two of us. We kick the shit out of him and tear his fucking head off."

Krieger smiled, dropping his SAW and moving to stand in the hallway, "Ahh! I like plan. Very action-oriented, as you'd say!"

"Come on!" Dante beckoned, "I've been jonesing' for a good fight for a while. And since your little friend downstairs is probably lunchmeat, you'll have to do!"

Joe's brow furrowed in rage. Before he was finished here, he swore he would feed this guy his intestines. Joe sucked in his breath, oxygenating his blood. Krieger flexed his arms and cracked his neck muscles.

The corridor became deathly quiet for a brief moment.

The calm before the storm.

At the same time, both men bolted towards the giant. Dante pushed his body forward, meeting the attack. The three men connected in a spectacular crash of bodies. Krieger leapt at the last minute to try to land a right cross on Dante's massive head. He connected, but it hardly seemed to faze the bastard. Joe slammed into Dante's midsection, hoping his weight would somehow throw the beast off balance.

Fat chance of that.

Dante was pure muscle. Joe plowed into the giant so hard, it felt like hitting a brick wall. The Ranger was staggered and before he could regain his footing, Dante lashed out with a backhand that sent him spinning into the prison corridor's stone wall.

Krieger—taller than Joe by half a foot—was more a physical match for Dante and pressed his advantage against the brute. With the giant's attention on the Ranger for the moment, Krieger leapt onto Dante's back, wrapping his arms in a sleeper hold under the brute's neck.

"I'll tear your head off, mudilo!" Krieger's massive, muscular arms held Dante's neck tight, not allowing the giant a free breath. Krieger was stronger than Dante had anticipated. The Olympus commander thrashed wildly, trying to throw the Russian off, but Krieger held tight. Exasperated, Dante raised a hand behind him and grabbed Krieger by the scruff of the neck. Dante power-bombed Krieger with all his might, sending the big merc back-first into the dirt with a move that would make John Cena proud. Krieger landed hard—the wind crushed from his lungs. He lay there for a moment—stunned and unable to move.

With a violent snarl, Dante lifted his massive boot and prepared to drive it into Krieger's face with all his might.

In his haste, he'd forgotten Joe.

The Army Ranger had regained his wind after the ferocious backhand and managed to find a weapon among the unkempt corridor - a large fist-sized rock. Joe leaped onto Dante's back and drove the rock as hard as he could into the back of Dante's head. The Olympus commander roared like an enraged dog. He began to thrash wildly again, losing interest in Krieger for the moment.

Joe continued to drive the rock down on his opponent's head over and over. He swore the giant's skull was made of stone too because it didn't seem he was making much of a difference. Dante was through messing with his second passenger. Pushing backward, he slammed Joe's body hard against the wall, sandwiching him like a pancake. Blood spurted from Joe's mouth and he crumpled to the ground, the rock falling from his numbed hands.

Things weren't going well. Joe hoped Danny had survived because it was quickly looking like they wouldn't be.

* * *

THE LAST second had felt like slow-motion to Danny Callbeck.

After Joe's voice had warned him of the incoming grenades, the entire elevator exploded. The shockwave of the detonation sent Whisper flying backward like a crash dummy. He hit the opposite metal wall hard and slide down in a heap on the floor, dazed. The force of the detonation collapsed the inner part of the elevator and caused the platform to come loose from its moorings. The entire structure plummeted down in a second, landing with a deafening explosion of metal and dust.

Momentarily paralyzed by the shock, Whisper tried to remember how to breathe again. The suit had absorbed some of the explosion, but it was still a hell of a blast. His brain finally caught up with his lungs and he sucked in large gulps of air. Whisper could only sit there for a time, staring at the destroyed elevator.

Well, _that way was a no-go._

A beeping noise behind him pulled Danny out of his funk. He got to his feet and stepped back to see what he'd been thrown into. The wall he'd struck was _flickering—_ like it was some sort of projection that had been damaged by his ramming into it.

_What the hell_?

As the dust settled from the elevator explosion, Whisper put a hand on the wall and felt for a few seconds. Then, as if his hand had brushed over an invisible switch, the wall faded out of view and a door materialized in front of him.

Danny was baffled. It was a stealth door, protected from view using some sort of technology he'd never heard of. What could be on the other side worth such protection? Whisper knew he wasn't going anywhere fast, so he reasoned out that whatever was on the opposite side may very well lead back to the surface.

It was worth a look.

He felt around some more and his hand flicked something that felt like a control pad. The mechanical door slid open. Whisper suddenly realized that—besides the bo-staff connected to his thigh—he was unarmed. He dashed over to the elevator to retrieve his gauss rifle. As he picked it up, the weapon sparked angrily at him. The central coil that surrounded the barrel and assumedly made the whole thing work had been badly damaged.

_Damn_.

Danny tossed the weapon back down. _I'll have to rough it_ , he thought, moving back towards the mysterious room.

As he looked in, large fluorescent lights flickered on and he saw what appeared to be a massive computer lab, bigger than the one they met Dr. Yune in by at least three times. The room included long rows of tables stacked with high-end computer equipment. At least a dozen gigantic black monolith computer mainframes were situated throughout the room. Whisper was amazed a room like this could exist in a place so remote as this fortress in Kazinistan. Olympus must have been working here for a longer time then he or Joe had suspected. The resources and technology to build and furnish something like this must have taken years.

As Whisper moved through the computer lab, his gaze flicked to and fro, checking for anything of interest. Abruptly he saw something that made him reach for his Mantis Staff: a large pool of blood. He checked the room further and found several dead bodies—scientists it looked like and killed very recently. They were scattered throughout the room and had been killed by some sort of blade. Cruel slash wounds covered their bodies and dark pools of blood were splattered all over the floor.

_Could the Praetorians have done this? If so why_? These guys had to be working for Olympus. Why kill them, and recently for that matter? Whisper wondered this as he checked the room, moving purposefully through the room. One of the computer monitors was still lit. Whisper pressed the touchscreen interface and the computer flashed to the home screen. A huge list of file folder icons began to scroll on the screen unassisted displaying wildly disparate names and phrases. Whisper touched the screen and read some of the options:

* VIET KONG GUEIRRELA TACTICS circa. 1962

* AFGHANISTAN FUEL RESOURCE ESTIMATES circa. 2004

* SYRIAN REBEL TACTICAL MOVEMENT CYCLES circa 2013

* PRESIDENTIAL DICTUMS IN FOREIGN POLICY REGARDING NUCLEAR DISPARITY circa 1997

The phrases were nonsense to Whisper. It went on at length—in fact, mind-boggling length—to such a degree that it looked like the computer had been tallying the complete modern history of warfare. Whisper moved to a different computer screen and flicked through the menus.

* HINDU KUSH AERIAL PHOTOGRAPHY, circa 2014

* NATO COALITION TROOP DEPLOYMENT RECORDS, circa 2014

* TALIBAN INFILTRATION OF UZBEKISTAN MILITANTS, circa 2014

* ARMY RANGER MOUNTAIN COMBAT TACTICS, circa 2013-2014

The data from this computer seemed more recent—as if it was surveillance data retrieved quite recently. He had no idea what this had to do with Presidential Dictums and Vietnam Guerrilla warfare. As he moved down the computer screens, switching them on one after the other, he found they all dealt in an indecipherable unorganized way with different facets of war, some so unrelated they appeared inconsequential.

Whisper was dumbfounded at his discovery. _What in the world was a Private Military working for a second-rate dictator doing with a setup like this? What on earth are they planning to do?_

As Whisper contemplated his next course of action, one last computer monitor caught his eye. It looked like the central hub computer, attached to the rest in some sort of hive configuration. Walking over, he pressed the touch screen. Rather than the exhaustive lists of data contained on the other computers, a simple warning was flashing on the screen that read:

* PARSING COMPLETE - DATABASE UPLOADED - PLEASE REMOVE CODE DISC

Whisper grunted, and moved his hand to the adjacent rectangular tower to the immediate right of the monitor. He flipped the eject switch and out popped a small rectangular object. Whisper pulled the object out from its enclosure, turning it over in his gloved hand, studying the device.

It was a disc of some sort, the shape, and size of an average credit card. On the top of the disc was a plain obsidian black surface and on the bottom was a small inch-long readable filament. He tested the disc, trying to bend it. Despite its small size, the disc housing was extremely dense and hard. He doubted even the super-strength of the suit could damage it.

Danny couldn't put his finger on it, but something told him whatever this was, Olympus would want it back— _very_ badly.

A voice spoke from behind him. "Hand it over, handsome."

He spun around towards the direction of the speaker. Some twenty feet away, leaning against a lab table nonchalantly was a woman. She was clad neck to toe in a black and red armored suit very similar to Whisper's own. To the Canadian, she resembled a nightmarish harlequin for the modern age. She tapped a finger absently against her strong, muscular hips that were oddly accentuated by the suit's ergonomic design. Her whole body was toned and perfectly sculpted.

But Whisper was focused on her face. Her stunning face was something like that of a Greek goddess. Her flawless skin was alabaster white, her lips nightshade black. Her hair, pulled high and held fast in a Japanese style twist, was jet black.

Danny had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life.

"Who are you?" he asked cautiously. He reached for his quarterstaff as he moved to a guarded stance.

The woman scoffed. "Oh come on handsome, I'm sure you've heard my name thrown around here since you arrived."

Whisper took an educated guess, "Agrippina."

She smiled coldly, "Correct."

Whisper observed the woman as he spoke, taking in any details that could prove useful, "What the hell have you people been doing in this place?" he gestured at the bodies on the floor.

"The scientists had outlived their purpose. I was ordered to eliminate them."

"That's...cold."

Agrippina chuckled, "I love the sound of your voice, Handsome...so soft...so dangerous."

The woman was trying to stall him. Whisper had wasted enough time here. Joe would be cursing his name by now, he was certain.

"I've no time for this. I have things to do, so either fight or get out of my way."

Agrippina looked at Whisper sharply, as if his remark merely amused her. "And I thought you were a clever little boy—finding your way in here all by yourself."

Whisper didn't mention how it had been blind luck that had led him to this place. The seductive lady was toying with him—trying to delay him from finding a way out. He looked around the room before asking bluntly, "Is there another way out from here to the surface?"

Agrippina stepped away from the table, standing to her full, near six-foot height. Her suit had been modified with angry-looking high heel stiletto boots, which added a good three inches to her frame.

"Sure is, sweetie—right behind me." She made an off-handed gesture with her left hand towards a set of steel elevator doors at the opposite end of the lab, "I may even think about letting you reach it _IF_ you give me the disc."

Whisper held up the disc he'd removed from the computer, "You mean this?"

Agrippina's playful attitude was quickly disappearing, "Give it to me _now_."

Whisper looked at the disc, and then back to Agrippina, "What is this thing?"

Agrippina brushed the question off. "Nothing your simple mind could possibly comprehend. Just a little something to lift the fog from the eyes of the world."

Inside his suit, Whisper smiled, "So it's important to you. That's all I need to know." He slid the disc into a small compartment in his leg armor.

Whisper had expected the woman to be angered at the refusal, but her reaction was quite puzzling. She tilted her head back and laughed. The sound was like music played on an out-of-tune piano.

"You are a cute one, aren't you? If you knew what that was, you would hand it to me gratefully. But now I will pry it from your corpse."

"You're wasting my time, lady. Like I said: get out of my way or..." he let the threat hang for a moment.

Agrippina smiled, taking the bait, "...or what handsome?"

"Or fight," he answered, raising his staff.

"You are a rather boring little boy when you get to know you, Mister..?"

"You can call me Whisper. Now move!"

"Sadly, I can't let you leave here either. It's too bad. I suppose I'll have to satisfy myself by peeling you from your armor one layer at a time."

Whisper clicked the bo-staff extension. The weapon increased to its full length in a millisecond. He flourished it as if it were second nature. _My spirit is calm. The spirits of my fathers give me strength._

Agrippina withdrew her twin blades. Now that he got a better view of them, Whisper saw they weren't actually swords. They were long ethnic blades known as Parang knives—weapons native to Indonesia, with thick chopping edges. Each knife was over two feet long and expertly crafted from a blue-tinged steel. The steel was thick, sharp, and looked plenty strong. She twirled each weapon with trained ease.

"Come on sweetie...Let's embrace."

Whisper needed no more encouragement.

### Chapter 12

A Time to Act

THE PAST three minutes felt like an eternity for Joe Braddock. It was starting to look like he and Krieger had entered into a losing battle. Neither of them could get the upper hand against Dante and both were taking massive damage from the giant's incredible attacks. The large gash Joe had suffered on his forehead the day previous had reopened and fresh blood poured into his eyes, blinding him long enough for Dante to land a meaty fist into his gut. Krieger had been sent flying by a crushing haymaker that would have knocked any normal man's head off his shoulders. And now to top everything off, Joe was lying in a heap against the wall, having been thrown again, this time almost to the point of unconsciousness.

Dante, who still looked fresh as a daisy, lumbered towards Krieger. Bending down, he lifted Krieger by the head, applying a brutal claw hold to the fallen Russian. Krieger grit his teeth as the Olympus commander attempted to crush his skull with his bare hands. Dante let out a cruel laugh as he tightened his grip.

Even with every muscle in his body begging for mercy, Braddock knew that he was the only hope Krieger had now. Pushing himself to his feet, he jumped on Dante's back one last time. Without missing a beat, Joe opened his mouth and closed his teeth on Dante's right ear; biting it off. The bruiser howled in pain, rearing back. Joe refused to give the bastard an inch. Using all his weight, Joe pushed himself back and drove his feet into Dante's knees, forcing the giant to fall backward.

Scooting aside to avoid being crushed by the monster, Joe rolled back around onto Dante's front. Before the Olympus soldier could regain his balance, Joe drove his forehead down as hard as he could into Dante's face. He felt the satisfying snap of the brute's nose breaking.

Don't let up. Finish him!

Joe smashed his head down, again and again, wincing from the pain. He felt wet, sticky blood spatter across his face with each brutal smash. After the sixth head butt, Joe saw stars and broke off, lifting himself up to observe his handy work. Dante's nose had almost disintegrated, crushed to a grisly pulp. His eyes barely registered any consciousness. He was down for the count.

Joe got to his feet, his body feeling like it had been tossed in a blender. A singular thought brought his senses back all at once:

I need to find my men.

The distant buzzing of a helicopter engine in the yard told Joe there was still a chance they had not been taken yet. Joe lurched down the hallway, past the recovering form of Krieger, who was trying to regain his senses after the brutal beating he'd received.

Krieger looked up and saw Joe pass him by without a glance, "Oh, thanks for making sure your comrade is okay. American ass!" He got to his feet and followed after Joe, his hand rubbing the part of his head Dante had almost crushed. "What is plan now?"

Joe stumbled dizzily over to his AK, sitting resting against the wall. He hoisted it in his hands and checked the magazine, "I have to get to my guys before that helicopter takes off."

That plan did not sit well with the Russian. He hustled to catch up with Joe, bending down and picking up one of the dead Centurion's XM8 Carbines as he ran, "My friend, that is insane! There are probably fifty more soldiers where these fools came from..."

Joe turned sharply, "I didn't ask for your opinion!" he snapped, "If you want to stay, stay. I'm getting my men back or I'm going to die in the process! Now are you coming or not?"

Krieger sighed, "Well, never let it be said we Russians don't help out insane friends."

Joe moved to Doctor Yune, who himself was coming too after Dante's assault, "You okay, Doctor?"

Yune's octagonal glasses had fallen into the dirt of the prison corridor and he was searching blindly for them. Joe spotted them and handed them to the scientist.

"Thank you, Sergeant, I'm fine now."

"Good, follow us out to the yard and find cover as quickly as you can."

Yune nodded.

Joe patted him on the arm, "Man up, Doc, it's time to get the hell out of here!" He stood back up and ran over to the pile of dead Centurions, checking their corpses for anything he could use. Each Centurion had two small grenades tethered to their belts. Joe took three, tossing one to Krieger. Satisfied they were armed appropriately again, the two men made their way to the entrance of the courtyard.

Yune placed his glasses on his nose, and was about to follow before he remembered something important, "What about Whisper?"

Joe turned towards the Doctor, the odd question confusing him for a moment, "Who?"

"Whisper...Corporal Callbeck! He's still down in the basement!"

_Whisper huh_? Joe liked the name—it fit the taciturn Canuck to a T. He pressed the comlink, calling for Whisper to answer. He received no reply. Danny was either too busy to talk or...

Joe took a deep breath, pushing the dark thought aside. "Danny is going to have to manage on his own for the time being Doc, but I promise we won't go anywhere without him."

* * *

AS JOE and Krieger were about to storm the yard, Whisper had problems of his own. A razor-sharp stiletto heel slammed into his faceplate with the force of a sledgehammer. He flew back ten feet and crashed hard into one of the monolithic servers. The obelisk teetered for a moment before pitching over backward and smashing on the ground in a shower of sparks and metal debris. Whisper lay there, nearly embedded in the shell of the destroyed server. His suit was reading multiple failures in structural integrity and general power consumption. Whisper was breathing hard now.

The fight was not in his favor.

He'd discovered that this woman fought with the skill and poise of a rattlesnake—deftly parrying and reposting his attacks with astonishing grace and speed. She had managed to land several lucky blows at first, easily deflected by the Whisper armor's titanium shielding. But the knives she used were unbelievably sharp and wherever she landed a blow that wasn't armor, Whisper felt it tenfold. And now here he was, flat on his back, suit malfunctioning and his bo-staff lying almost six feet away.

All in all, it had been a hell of a morning.

Agrippina marched towards Whisper's prone form and placed her heel on his chest. Bending over her fallen enemy, she thrust one of the Parang knives against Whisper's neck.

"Well, Handsome, it's been a good fight but I think now's the time to give me that disc."

As Whisper looked up at Agrippina's beautiful face, he saw something around her neck that made his heart jump. His Charm—the necklace his father given him—she had found it!

"Give me back my necklace!"

Agrippina looked confused for a moment before she realized what he meant. "Oh this? Sorry hun, didn't know it was yours." She tossed her hair—as if posing for a Loreal advert. "Don't you think it suits me?"

The woman seemed to get off on playing these little games with him. Her evergreen eyes twinkled with cruel malice, savoring her soon-to-be victory over her fallen foe. She leaned forward, pushing her leg harder down into Whisper's breastbone. He winced inside the suit. Still, there was something fascinating about this woman he couldn't understand, even when he was this close to being her next victim. Besides her otherworldly beauty, she was so commanding and powerful.

On any other day, I might kinda like this lady.

Agrippina smirked, tapping the knife against Danny's neck, "I'm going to let you in on a little secret, Mister Whisper, before I open you up from stem to sternum—" Her eyes glinted lustily, "—No one can stop what is to come. No one can stop the _Code_."

Whisper would have puzzled over the statement longer, but Agrippina lifted the blade up, preparing to rend him in two.

Act now or hold your peace Danny Callbeck!

As she drove down her knife with enough force to skewer him permanently to the ground, he threw both arms up with lightning speed, clamping the knife between his palms. Agrippina's triumphant leer changed to astonishment as her thrust was cut short by the amazing physical stunt. Whisper took advantage of her surprise by pulling his left leg back and smashing her in the gut for all he was worth.

Agrippina flew back through the room and crashed into a cluster of monitors and computing equipment. Coughing violently from the loss of wind, she lay where she landed, unable to get to her feet. Whisper picked himself up—tossing the Parang knife he still held in his hand to one side where it clattered and slid away.

"Looks like you overestimated yourself, huh?" Whisper said, smirking inside the helmet. He walked slowly over towards her fallen position, retrieving the Mantis Staff as he did. He was careful never to take his view off her form, wary of her duplicitous nature. He stopped within a few feet of her, weapon at the ready. "So now it's your turn, lady. Tell me what this 'Code' is!"

Agrippina got onto her hands and knees, wiping a stream of blood from her nose, "You seem mighty sure of yourself sweetie. Time to take you down a peg," Too late, Whisper saw her holding a small device the size of a lipstick canister in her hand hidden from his view. She pressed a tiny button on the top of it.

"No!" cried Whisper, too late. A thunderous explosion wracked the room as timed C4 explosions detonated through the basement, rocking the entire fortress. In a moment, the server room was a blazing inferno. Fire and explosive plumes spread across the lab with reckless abandon. The force of the detonation shook Whisper off his balance and he had to grab one of the mainframes for support.

Having played possum long enough, Agrippina leaped to her feet and bolted towards the tiny elevator on the far end of the mainframe room. Whisper tried to follow, but another C4 explosion off to his right jostled him off his feet and sent him crashing into another mainframe, toppling it with a loud _crash._

Agrippina blew him a kiss as she stepped into the elevator, "Tah-tah, hun. You can keep the disc, for all the good it will do you!" she waved at him, embellishing the triumph, "Don't die too quick!" The elevator door closed and she disappeared from sight.

Whisper got to his feet and stumbled towards the elevator, dodging burning debris and collapsing pieces of the ceiling as he went. He reached the lift and pressed the return button. As he did, he noticed the paint on the elevator door beginning to bubble. Immediately, he leaped to the side, just in time as the elevator exploded in a backdraft of fire and wreckage.

DAMN!

Whisper had landed in a ready pose on all fours. He snapped the Mantis Staff onto his leg, not needing it anymore. A rumbling from above warned him a second early before a chunk of ceiling the size of a Chevy truck plummeted towards his position. With the grace of a bobcat, he dodged out of the way, right before the fragment could crush him into paste.

Can't stick around here.

The way to the small elevator was now blocked from large amounts of debris. The room was reaching a blistering level of heat, with no adequate ventilation to keep the fire contained. Whisper guessed the C4 had been placed strategically to destroy any sprinkler system the room may have had. His only choice now was back out of the room and up the freight elevator shaft. He could only pray to the spirits of his forefathers that it was clear. Otherwise, this basement would be his tomb.

* * *

"What in hell's name was that? yelled Krieger from his cover behind the door leading to the staging yard beyond. They had just got into position behind the old wood doors leading out of the fortress when Agrippina had detonated the C4's. Joe, AK at the ready, looked around anxiously. Suddenly another rumble from beneath them nearly shook them off their feet.

What was going on down there?

The old fortress shook violently, causing pieces of the ramshackle ceiling to come loose and fall into the prison. The three companions thrust themselves against the walls to avoid the larger pieces of mortar falling around them.

Krieger looked over at Joe and shouted. "We have to move now, my friend—the entire place is coming down!"

"How do you know that?" Joe asked as a piece of debris narrowly missed him. He pushed Yune back against the wall, away from the falling rock.

Krieger shrugged, "Heard them talking days ago about C4 around entire base, just in case they needed to make fast getaway."

"And you wait until _now_ to tell me that?"

Krieger fingered his XM8 rifle absentmindedly, "Sorry friend, must have slipped mind."

Joe sighed angrily. Nothing he could do about it now.

"We need to move!" Joe took a quick glance into the yard. He spotted the helicopter sitting on makeshift launch-pad almost four-hundred feet from their current position. The explosions beneath them had temporarily shocked the Centurions outside away from caring what happened to anybody inside the fort. They were currently more interested in saving their own skins.

_Good_ , thought Joe. A little confusion would go a long way. He searched the helipad for any sign of his men.

Suddenly, Krieger pointed towards the south of the helipad, "There my friend! Your men!"

Joe moved his gaze and saw them: the five Rangers, hooded, being driven towards the waiting helicopter. Joe also saw a sight that sent a chill down his spine: the flying troopers from the attack on the border. Three such troopers were preparing their jetpacks for takeoff near the helicopter.

Krieger growled as he too saw the flight pack soldiers, "Damn! Hastati Troopers!"

Joe repeated the name, awkwardly, "Hasta...what?"

Yune answered for Krieger, "They are Hastati Shock Troopers—highly trained fast attack infantry soldiers equipped with the new _Volare_ flight pack."

Joe shot a glance at the Doctor. "How do you know that?"

Yune pushed his glasses up on his nose, sheepishly, "I designed them...the jetpacks I mean."

Joe sneered, "They're the bastards that destroyed my unit." There was nothing for it now. If he didn't make a move now, his men would be lost forever. "Alright, we're going. Keep quiet until we get closer."

Krieger shook his head, "Good idea, friend, but I have a better one."

Before Joe could object, Krieger ducked out the door and began running through the courtyard towards the motorcade.

"Dammit," cursed Joe. He looked over at Yune. "Follow me, Doc, and stay low!" He ran out into the yard, taking advantage of the momentary lapse in organization caused by the explosion beneath the yard. He had counted about half a dozen Centurions moving throughout the yard. Joe removed one of the grenades and pulled the pin. Taking a quick breath, he bolted from the door and tossed the grenade in the direction of the closest cluster of troops. He yanked Yune roughly after him as he ran towards a parked Humvee—dropping down into the ample cover it provided.

The explosive device landed exactly where he'd wanted it. Three troopers had been running towards the motorcade when the grenade came to rest directly in front of them. They had less than a fraction of a second to blink before the grenade blew them apart. Alerted by the explosion, the remaining Centurions readied their weapons to find the source of the incendiary. One spotted Krieger running full throttle towards the motorcade and raised his weapon to open fire. Joe beat him to the punch and let off a quick burst. The bullets tore through the Centurion's helmet—shredding his brain like confetti.

Joe saw a Centurion put a hand to his ear as if listening to an earpiece inside his helmet.

He's calling for reinforcements!

Joe took him down with another quick burst, stitching the trooper across his center mass and knocking him from his feet. Braddock thanked his lucky stars for the armor-piercing ammunition. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Krieger reach the motorcade. A line of LAV all-terrain armored personnel carriers, or APC's, were parked underneath a large awning. Beside them were several technicals—Humvees and jeeps sporting turrets containing 12.7mm Dushka heavy machineguns.

Joe's eye line was pulled to the opposite end of the fortress where a door had been flung open and a mass of Centurions and several unarmored soldiers began pouring through.

_Damn! The trooper must have called reinforcements before I killed him_ , thought Joe, bringing his AK to bear.

Suddenly a cascade of bullets shattered Joe's cover, forcing him to drop lower. He pushed Yune roughly down with him. The flying troopers on the helipad were now alerted to the attack and had begun firing up the _Volare_ flight packs. Joe could hear the familiar sound of the turbines powering on.

As usual, things were going from bad to worse.

* * *

OVER IN the motorcade, Krieger leaped onto one of the technicals and climbed into the cargo bed. The Dushka heavy machinegun was really designed for use on aircraft, but big merc wasn't one to quibble over correct weapon operating procedures. He pulled back on the charging handle and aimed at the incoming troopers from across the yard. He pressed the trigger and a burst of fire spit from the gun. The turret absorbed some of the recoil, but the gun was so powerful it threatened to jostle itself out of the massive Russian's hands.

"Come get it, PMC bastards!"

His muscular arms adapted to the kick of the weapon and he leveled it straight at the incoming Centurions.

* * *

FROM HIS position behind the Humvee, Joe watched in amazement as the Dushka butchered the incoming Olympus reinforcements. Centurions were blown apart as the massive gun tore through their high-tech armor like paper. First two, then three and finally four troopers were gunned down in quick succession. Joe thought he could hear the Russian laughing amidst the string of gunfire. The Dushka was so loud, Joe had to place a finger over his ears, in fear that the noise would rupture his eardrums. Yune was squatting on his knees, unaccustomed to gunfire. His hands were clamped over his ears, his face grimacing from the noise.

Joe managed to lift his head amidst the barrage to take stock of the situation. The Centurions on the helipad had finished loading the Ranger POWs onto the MI-M8 Helo. It would be taking off any second now.

Joe leaned up to try to signal Krieger to ceasefire. If the Russian saw him, he paid no attention and just continued shooting. _Damn nutcase!_ Joe had to hope Krieger wouldn't think of firing on the jetpack troopers, as they were too close to the helicopter and the Dushka would easily pass through the troopers and into it.

Krieger may have saved them from the massed reinforcements, but it was forcing Joe to miss his chance at reaching his men.

The final detonation rocked the yard of the fortress with the suddenness of an earthquake. The helipad began to teeter and for a brief, terrifying moment Joe thought it might collapse. The helicopter pilot gunned the bird's engine and the vehicle began to lift.

Joe shouted aloud, "NO!"

He was too late. They were getting away. The flying Hastati troopers were almost in the air now. The good news was, they were no longer in front of the helo. As one of the troopers began to rise into the air, Joe let loose a torrent of gunfire towards him. The bullets hit the _Volare_ flight pack, forcing the Olympus soldier to make an emergency landing back onto the helipad.

Joe could only watch helplessly as the helicopter lifted into the air, its powerful rotors driving it higher into the sky. A burst of rage exploded within him. He'd been so close and now his men were lost to him. Joe roared as he fired his AK towards the remaining two flying troopers, heedless to his own safety. The Hastati troopers were now flying into the sky, hovering over the fortress. It would only take seconds before they had a perfect shot on Joe's position with their concussion rifles.

Everything had officially gone from bad to FUBAR.

### Chapter 13

Balls to the Wall!

KRIEGER DEPRESSED the trigger, having counted an even ten Centurions he'd successfully blown apart with the Dushka. He stuck a finger in his ear, trying to stop the relentless ringing the loud gun had caused to his eardrums. He'd known there was no way to stop the helicopter without destroying it—this way he had ceased reinforcements from entering the yard and had fast access to an APC.

_Poor Joe_ , he thought. _He is_ good man _but allows his emotions to get a hold of him at important times. Still like him better than_ last _commander, though._

There were two remaining Hastati troopers who would soon be bringing their concussion weapons to bear on their ground targets. The Dushka's firing arc was too low to be able to reach the troopers. He waved over at Joe, trying to catch the American's eye.

* * *

JOE'S RAGE burned red hot.

_Damn that crazy sonovabitch_! If it hadn't been for Krieger's crazy recklessness he could have got to his men!

Joe felt Dr. Yune pat him on the shoulder. He looked over and saw the scientist was pointing at the Russian's position. Krieger was gesturing at the APCs behind him.

He wants to leave! Wants to hightail it now that my men are gone!

Joe bit his tongue and grabbed Yune by the collar. At that moment, one of the flying troopers fired an explosive concussion round towards their position. The blast lifted the Humvee off the ground and sent it spinning through the air in a spiral of flame. Joe and Yune barely missed being crushed as the truck landed. Instead, the concussive wave knocked both of them off their feet, sending the two men flailing to the dirt. Joe's rifle was knocked from his hands and clattered into the dust several feet away.

A rush of air behind them told Joe the hovering trooper was directly above them now. Joe saw the trooper loading a fresh magazine into his rifle. Arming the weapon, the soldier aimed where Joe stood—ready to vaporize both him and Doctor Yune.

Joe knew the flying bastard was probably smiling.

This was it. Everything we've done to get here and now it would all be over in a flash of fire.

* * *

A GUN DID indeed fire, but from the fortress entrance, not the trooper above them. Joe watched as the flying trooper was riddled with bullets, tearing into the suit and detonating the jetpack. Joe grabbed Doctor Yune by the collar and pulled him out of the way of the falling wreckage.

Grabbing cover, Joe looked towards the fortress at their savior.

Danny Callbeck. Did I have to guess?

The Canadian stood at the door, a Centurion's smoking XM8 carbine in his hands.

Joe called over to his armored friend, "What kept you?"

"Had a run-in with a very angry lady," Whisper's raspy voice croaked from behind the helmet.

The whine of the last flying trooper above them shocked Joe's mind back to the current situation. He spurred Yune on towards the motorcade. As they ran, Whisper took stock of the situation. The last flying trooper was swooping in, probably hoping to get a good shot at all of them clustered together in the motorcade. Whisper made a quick judgment of the angle and height that his enemy was approaching and decided on a crazy maneuver. He ran forward, the suit charging up his kinetic energy. As he approaching the flaming Humvee, he leaped up onto it and—using it as leverage—propelled himself into the sky towards the flying trooper.

Noticing the leaping cyber warrior flying towards him, the Hastati trooper was too surprised to respond. Whisper slammed into the man with a bear hug—holding onto the trooper with both hands. The two airborne enemies zigzagged through the air, fighting for supremacy of the jetpack.

Below, Joe watched this all unfold with a bewildered fascination. Suddenly an enormous explosion wracked the fortress behind him. The stone walls began to split and the roof caved inward.

The entire place was going to collapse on itself!

Krieger hollered over to Yune and Joe, "We have to get out now, my friends! Follow me!" The Russian leaped off the technical and bolted over to one of the parked LAV's, a heavily modified Russian BTR-80 APC. The eight-wheeled, armored vehicle would be their best chance at making it out of the mountain range alive.

Joe pushed Doctor Yune towards the motorcade, following behind while keeping an eye on Danny. His friend's insane stunt seemed to be paying off. Whisper slammed his helmeted head hard into the Hastati, knocking the shock trooper momentarily senseless. The jetpack, unbalanced for two occupants began to pitch and yaw dangerously. After a quick inspection, Whisper hit the emergency release button on the jetpack straps holding the trooper in place. Abruptly, the straps released the trooper, who dropped down nearly fifty feet to land with a bone-crunching thud on top of the burning Humvee. As he hung awkwardly onto the jetpack, Whisper keyed a quick command into the control panel. The pack descended, landing him just in front of the APC.

Krieger, who had stopped for a moment to watch, yelled out, "Well I'll be a sonovagun! Who would have thought?"

Joe and Yune reached the APC. Joe opened the passenger door to the back, "Okay, Doc, in you go."

Yune nodded and looked back at Whisper. The Canadian nodded in silent reply. Yune smiled before getting into the APC. His suit was working better than he could have hoped. Danny had proven to be the best choice to operate it.

After making sure Yune was tucked away inside the APC, Braddock jogged over to Whisper, shouting as he went, "They took our guys, Danny. What should we do now?"

Whisper hefted the jetpack up and strapped it on. It was extremely bulky, but would work for the time being, "There will be time to get them back later Joe. They wouldn't go through all this trouble just to kill them."

Joe glowered at the thought of leaving them, "What are you going to do?"

Whisper hit the engine ignition on the rocket jetpack, "I'll fly reconnaissance. You keep in touch and head south. We need to get to the border and contact the Coalition forces."

Joe nodded, "Are you sure you can fly that thing?"

"Just like riding a futuristic bike," Whisper replied. "Get going, Sergeant. See you in Afghanistan." Just as he was leaving, Danny remembered something. He pulled the disc he'd retrieved from the mainframe room the small compartment in his suit. "Give this to Doctor Yune. Whatever it is, these guys _really_ want it."

"What is it?" asked Joe.

Whisper looked back at the crumbling fortress, "No time, I'll explain later. Get going!"

Joe slid the disc into a pocket in his fatigues before running to the APC. Whisper pressed a key on the control pad and the pack began to lift into the air.

A loud rumble to his right made Joe look towards the prison. The entire superstructure had collapsed upon itself. The ground of the yard suddenly split apart in a crevasse, pulling the burning wreckage of the Humvee and several dead Centurions into the abyss of the ravaged fortress.

Joe pulled himself into the APC. Krieger was at the controls, hot-wiring the engine. The vehicle powered on. The big merc yelled out a howl of success and gunned the engine. Joe shut the door and jumped into the front seat, tapping the Russian roughly on the arm.

"If we get out of here alive, you and I are going to have a serious talk!"

Krieger smiled, "I promise to help get your friends later, but for now, let's focus on the alive part." With that, he accelerated the APC up and out of the motorcade. Standing up, Joe opened the hatch directly above him and stuck his head out. Behind them, the widening crevasse pulled the remainder of the base into the depths of its interior. As he watched, he thought he saw movement at the prison door.

Probably some poor luckless Centurion trying to flee from the crumbling base.

"Gun this thing now!" Joe yelled as he closed the hatch and returned to his seat.

Krieger put the pedal to the metal. The Russian piloted the APC straight towards the entranceway of the fortress—a large two-prong door that thankfully hadn't been properly closed due to the Centurion's hasty retreat earlier. The APC smashed into the doors full force just as the crevasse split apart the rest of the base—crumpling the fortress in on itself in a cataclysmic implosion that shook the ground for nearly a kilometer in every direction.

After days of torture and abuse, they were finally free of the Olympus fortress.

* * *

AS THE APC sped away from the ruined stronghold, a stout figure pulled itself to its feet amidst the collapsed fortress interior.

"No, my friends," said Commander Dante, dusting off his body armor, "No one escapes from Olympus."

Forty feet below the collapsed yard, Dante had slid into the crevasse but had managed to hold onto a piece of exposed rebar, allowing him to avoid the brunt of the destruction. However, his girth was too much to allow for any climb back up and he was stuck now in the bottom of the collapsed yard. He switched on his comlink.

"Agrippina, are you there?"

No answer.

_That blasted woman had better not be ignoring me_.

He spoke again, louder this time, "Agrippina, respond now!"

" _What is it, fat fool_?"

Dante sneered, but was inwardly relieved, "Send down a _Hyperion_ transport immediately and get me out of this hole!"

Agrippina's voice returned, haughty and superior, " _Did the big men destroy your little_ outpost, _Dante_?"

Dante was so angry, he could barely put words in front of themselves, "I know you detonated the C4, you goddamn—"

" _Save your anger for those who deserve it, pig. I am going to interdict them myself. Trust me they will not get far_."

Dante picked at the ruined husk of his nose. His ear was still bleeding badly from Braddock's on-the-spot amputation. That bastard Ranger had almost ruined it completely. "What about me?" he said into the comlink, "I order you to come and pick me up!"

Agrippina's reply was dripping in delight, " _So sorry, Dante. The Imperator is sending a Hyperion to come and get you. When it arrives, you can explain to him how you lost the soldiers AND Doctor Yune_."

"You do have the Code, don't you?"

Silence.

Dante almost laughed. "You let them take it?"

Agrippina waited a moment before answering, _"Like I said, they will not have it for long."_

"You had better pray you get it back. You know what _He_ will do to you if..."

" _Cut the small talk. Once I have dealt with those fools, I'll meet you back at Fortress_ Liberatio _."_

_I can't wait,_ thought Dante. The thought of crushing that bitch's head in his hand warmed his heart considerably.

* * *

AGRIPPINA SWITCHED off the comlink and rolled her eyes.

What the Imperator sees in that fool, I'll never know.

She sat in the passenger seat of the _Hyperion_ transport as it rose into the sky—hovering as it awaited the arrival of its backup. A HIND-E helicopter was on route from the northern outpost and would meet them within two minutes.

Despite her little spat with the inept fool Dante, the Olympus harlequin was barely able to contain her excitement. It had been so long since she had had any sort of a challenge. These soldiers were so unlike any she had faced before. It warmed her blood knowing she would be spilling theirs soon.

Agrippina looked at the pilot of the _Hyperion_ and barked an order, "Intercept that APC immediately. We have wasted enough time here."

The pilot was unsure of the command. "But...shouldn't we pick up the Commander as he asked?"

Agrippina fired a blistering look at the fool that dared question her orders. "If you don't wish for your head to be introduced to your colon, I suggest you obey my order!"

The pilot shrank back into his seat and adjusted the controls to bring the _Hyperion_ out of its hover state. The obsidian wings rotated up as the VTOL system accelerated the craft forwards.

The pilot received a message over his comlink. He looked over at his boss, stating, "The reinforcement HIND-E has arrived, Commander Agrippina."

The Olympus harpy nodded. "Outstanding. Have it take point. I wish to... _watch_ for the time being."

The pilot complied, relaying her orders through his headset.

Agrippina ran a hand through her silken black hair, still perfectly held in place. She tapped her finger absently against her slender leg—impatient at the thought of once again facing that man in the suit. She turned to look out the side window, concealing a smile that tugged at her lips.

Whisper.

He had seemed so... _strong_ , so confident. She had no idea what the man looked like underneath and frankly didn't care. His spirit was so alive _._ She had felt it radiate from his presence, as real and palpable as a waft of Old Spice.

Finally...a man worth killing.

* * *

The APC powered down the path leading from the mountain fortress. Krieger piloted the armored transport with expert skill—another talent the secretive Russian decided not to show until the time was right. Joe looked out the window at the canyon below them. The gorge plunged nearly three hundred feet straight down. Joe leaned back in the seat. The entire night's events had begun to merge into a haze for the Army Ranger. By now, he had been awake for almost 24 hours, not a difficult task for an Army Ranger, but not one he enjoyed.

He looked over at their driver, "Do you have any idea where we're going?"

Krieger shrugged. "No idea at all, my friend."

Joe scoffed. "Well, are we at least headed south?"

"Not really. Have to get out of mountains first."

Joe unhooked the Bluetooth earpiece. He clamored out from his seat and into the back passenger area. Dr. Yune was sitting in the uncomfortable metal seats, rubbing his sore ears. The Dushka may have ruptured his eardrums.

"You okay Doc?" asked Joe.

"I am alive, Sergeant. I suppose that will do for now."

Joe grinned. "We're out of that shithole Doc, you're doing great. Here..." he gave Yune the Bluetooth receiver, "...keep in touch with Danny, I'm going up into the turret."

Yune took the earpiece and put it on. Joe gave the Doc a comforting tap on the arm before opening the turret hatch. He climbed up and looked out. The sweet smell of freedom washed over him. He'd never been so glad to breathe a lungful of Middle Eastern air in his life. Up above the APC, the whine of the jetpack told Joe that Whisper wasn't too far away. Placing a hand over his eyes, he searched for his friend and spotting him following in the sky behind them. Braddock had to marvel at his friend's resilience—having gone in the span of fewer than ten hours from a blind, scarred man to...well... _that!_ It was truly incredible.

Joe shook his head and checked the turret-mounted machine gun. He sucked in a breath. In their haste in leaving, it hadn't even occurred to Joe if the LAV was armed. The turret had been retrofitted with the same 12.7 mm Dushka as the technical back at the fort. He opened the ammo crate latched to the side and breathed a sigh of relief.

Fully stocked.

_Excellent_.

Krieger steered the APC at nearly forty miles an hour along a rapidly narrowing road. Joe yelled back inside the cab, "Krieger! Slow it down, dammit! You'll send us over the ravine!"

A laugh from inside told Joe what the big merc thought of his sage advice. He felt a tug on his pant leg. Joe lowered himself back down the turret.

Yune was there to hand him the Bluetooth comlink. "Sergeant, Whisper needs to speak to you!"

Joe attached the comm to his ear. "This is Joe, go ahead, Whisper!" He had to smile at himself for calling his friend such a strange name.

Whisper's raspy voice came through the comm, " _Joe...we have incoming._ "

Joe's smile vanished. "What direction?"

" _Directly behind us, maybe a mile off and closing fast."_

Joe leaned forward and shouted above the racket of the APC engine, "Krieger we've got company!"

"No big surprise there!"

"Forget what I said," yelled Joe, "Crank this sucker!"

Krieger did a mock salute, " _Da, ser!_ Your command is my wish!" He put the pedal to the metal and the APC powered forward.

Joe climbed back out, looking back the way they'd come. The mountain wall was obscuring much of the view, but every so often he thought he could glimpse several dark shapes moving in quickly.

Helicopters most likely.

Joe opened the comlink. "Whisper do you have a visual where you are?"

* * *

UP ABOVE the APC, doing his best to control a device he'd until recently never knew existed, Whisper managed to spin the jetpack in a complete one-eighty. He was unarmed, having no time to grab anything offensive back at the fortress. He knew that Joe would have to do most of the fighting from the APC. Using the HUD within his suit, he increased his vision to three times the regular magnification. The image beamed into his brain showed two air vehicles: one helicopter and one of those obsidian-colored VTOL aircrafts' that had attacked them those many days ago. He recalled one of the Centurions back at the outpost calling it a Hyperion.

Whisper increased the magnification tenfold and looked into the pilot seat of the _Hyperion_. Sitting on the passenger side, her alabaster skin as perfect as ever, was Agrippina.

Whisper smiled to himself.

Round two, huh?

He activated the comm and spoke hurriedly, "Joe, we have two bogies: one Russian-model MI-35 gunship and one _Hyperion_ VTOL. What do you want me to do?"

Joe's voice came back loud and clear, "We'll handle the Helo, can you try to mislead the _Hyperion_ for a few minutes?"

It would have been easier if Joe had asked him to cure cancer.

Whisper sighed, "I'll try to create some angles between them and me. Give the comm back to Yune—I'll need his advice on the suit."

"Be careful Danny."

Whisper turned off the comm and checked the jetpack controls.

Time to see what this baby could do.

* * *

JOE PASSED the Bluetooth comm underneath the APC to Doctor Yune, yelling, "Keep in touch with Danny, Doc. He's gonna need your help."

"I'll do my best!" replied Yune above the roar of the APC.

Joe positioned himself on the turret, swiveling it to the rear of the vehicle.

Come on you suckers! Just give me a clear shot!

The helicopter was coming in ahead of the _Hyperion_ , moving to intercept at a lower altitude. Joe finally saw the aircraft up close. It was a matte brown colored MI-35 gunship (or HIND-E) Russian helicopter. Joe could see the weapon pylons attached to the aircraft's aerodynamic wings—most likely loaded with rockets and anti-tank missiles. More than enough to blow them completely off the map.

Joe knew their only chance was to use the mountainous crags to their advantage, as it would be difficult to maintain a radar lock in such obtuse terrain. Their enemy would probably rely on the helicopter's autocannons to knock them off the road. The APCs armor could take a fairly large bullet, but if the helo chose to use the rockets, it was _hasta_ manyana.

Joe swiveled the Dushka, bringing the massive machine gun to bear on his enemy. He opened fire. Some intelligent Olympus shcmuck had had the foresight to load the weapon with tracer ammo. Not particularly useful during the day, but every bit helps.

The HIND banked to the side, trying to get a bead on the APC with its autocannon.

"Oh hell!" Joe said out loud.

The helo opened fire, a stream of autocannon gunfire bursting from the side-mounted gatlings on its wings. Joe dropped inside the APC to avoid the bullets that were smacking full force into the APC's ablative armor. Remarkably, the armor held solid—the autocannon rounds making loud _clank-clank_ sounds against the exterior shell of the APC.

Suddenly a loud pop reverberated from under the APC and the vehicle swerved unnervingly to the right. Up in the driver seat, Krieger desperately tried to regain control.

"What happened?" asked Joe, checking to make sure Yune was okay.

"They blew out tire on right side!" Krieger answered, "Hard as hell to control!"

Joe grimaced at the bad news. "Keep this thing moving as fast as you can and stay close to the mountainside. One well-aimed rocket and it's all over."

"Hey if you want to drive, come up and take wheel! Harder than it looks you know!"

Joe shook his head before going back up the turret. He spotted the helo—the aircraft had slowed suddenly and was decelerating to gain a better firing line. Joe had to act and act quickly. He gripped the Dushka and fired for all it was worth. The tracer ammo licked the sky, following a trajectory that made its way to the helicopter. Joe saw the 12.7mm rounds tear into the helicopter's thick armor. A spread of steam began to spew from the underbelly.

Joe affected his aim, moving it towards the back of the Helo at the tail-rotor.

Come on! Hit damn it!

He watched triumphantly as the tail rotor was blown apart by the tracer gunfire. The HIND banked heavily and spun end over end. With no trailing inertia to steer the eight-ton spinning engine, the crippled helo twirled like an out of control toy kite. Joe roared with glee as the helicopter rammed into the mountains on the opposite side of the gorge and burst into flame, showering wreckage throughout the ravine.

The success was short-lived. The _Hyperion_ VTOL—having watched its companion aircraft go down—had put on a burst of speed to catch up with the APC. Joe remembered vividly the kind of firepower one of those monsters' had. He spun the Dushka toward the approaching _Hyperion_ and fired. He watched his bullets fly underneath the aircraft. It was coming in too high for the machinegun to reach.

A door on the side of the ominous VTOL opened. Joe saw a woman lean out from inside, holding onto an unseen handhold. She was dressed in a bizarre suit similar to Whisper's own.

Is that this Agrippina everyone's been talking about?

The assassin perched down, holding out a hand as if to judge the distance between herself and the roof of the APC.

She's going to jump onto us!

In a heart-stopping moment, Joe watched as the woman leaped off the VTOL and landed with perfectly timed accuracy onto the roof of the APC, directly in from of him.

Joe yelled down into the transport, "We have a visitor, Krieger! Shake her off!"

Krieger yelled back, "First you want steady, now you want shaking! Make up mind, _idiot!_ " The Russian did as he was asked, forcing the APC back and forth as they drove down the treacherous path through the Pamir Mountains.

Agrippina had to drop to a knee and grab the APC with both hands lest she was jostled off by the constant swerving. Joe yelled down into the APC, "Doc, give me a gun!"

"What?" shouted Yune.

"A gun! Give me a gun!"

"Just a minute!"

Joe scoffed. _Sure, I've got all the time in the_ world _here._

Agrippina pulled herself upright and slowly started edging forward on the roof of the APC.

"Anytime, Doc!" hollered Joe, desperately. He felt a tug at his pant leg and reached down. Yune was passing up his AK. Joe hoisted it up and took aim. With lightning speed, Agrippina drew a blue-tinged machete-like weapon from her backpack and slashed at Joe. The AK broke apart in two neat pieces in his hands.

"Oh...shit," said Joe, out of options.

Agrippina smiled and pulled her knife back in preparation to decapitate her defenseless foe.

From below, Yune's voice called up, "Joe, Danny says to duck!"

Without hesitating, Joe dropped back into the APC, narrowly missing a close haircut from the woman's knife. As he dropped, the roar of a jetpack screeched overhead as Whisper piloted the unwieldy device in an unstoppable headlong rush towards Agrippina. The woman barely had time to gasp when Danny ran headfirst into her with the rocket pack. The force yanked her completely off the roof of the armored transport to be pulled into the air by the armored Canadian.

Joe stuck his head back out, trying to get a grip on what he'd just seen.

* * *

THE FORCE of Whisper's near-suicidal rush into Agrippina had completely knocked the wind out of her. It had not been what you would have called a well-thought-out decision, but it was all Whisper could manage at the time. The addition of another person's weight interfered with the flight pack sensors and it abruptly began to go off-kilter. As the two struggled, the jetpack rose uncontrollably into the air, propelling its occupants to the top of the mountain chain.

Agrippina's Parang knife had fallen from her hand after the attack, but she could still fight. As she hung onto Whisper, she tried to punch him in the helmet, succeeding only in bruising her hand. Danny needed to ditch his passenger as quickly as possible as her thrashing would certainly kill them both.

A proximity sensor in the suit HUD flashed. The _Hyperion_ VTOL had located him and was flying in to intercept.

The Canadian thought fast. If he timed things right, there was a chance and one chance alone of ridding himself of both nuisances at once. Whisper arched the jetpack towards the _Hyperion_ and cranked the throttle. The pack roared forwards at over two hundred miles an hour directly at the _Hyperion_ 's cockpit.

Agrippina looked Whisper straight in the helmet, screaming, "You lunatic! You'll kill us both!"

Whisper thrust a hand against Agrippina's throat and tore the Inuit charm from her neck.

"You're right," said Whisper, hitting the strap release clip at the last second, "You steer!"

He slipped out of the jetpack and fell to the ground fifty feet below. Agrippina continued forward, frantically trying to reach the jetpack control panel. She barely had time to look at the _Hyperion_ before plowing into it at full force. Her final scream echoed through the mountainside. The jetpack exploded into a fireball that engulfed the cockpit of the VTOL. The jet spun end over end before careening into the ravine below.

* * *

WHISPER FELL nearly fifty feet, landing only a few paces from the sharp edge of the mountainside. Any further and his fifty-foot drop would have been three-thousand feet. True to Yune's word, the suit's leg compensators absorbed most of the shock from the landing, making it feel like a small leap. Danny hoisted himself up and jogged to the edge of the cliff, peering down. He watched as the flaming VTOL spun faster and faster until it crashed into the bottom of the ravine. The obsidian aircraft exploded in a volcanic rain of fire and smoke.

Whisper let out the breath of air he'd been holding for nearly an hour—or so it felt like. He held up the Inuit charm for a moment. His heart felt full again—like he had found a piece of his soul he'd given up for lost. Activating a small compartment in his suit, he placed the charm inside it for safekeeping.

The comm buzzed and he answered. Joe's voice came through, sounding worried, " _Whisper,_ come _in, are you all right_?"

Whisper put a finger to the side of his helmet to respond, "Affirmative. All clear here."

" _We saw the explosion...what happened to the woman_?"

Whisper smirked under his helmet, "She...had a bad flying lesson. Where are you guys now?"

" _Where are you_?" Joe countered.

"Umm...on the mountain peak about three-thousand feet above the VTOL crash."

" _Christ, how'd you get...never mind. How are you going to get down_?"

Whisper looked around. It was a near two-thousand-foot drop straight down to the road the APC had been driving on. There were no walkways down.

He was stuck on the top of a mountain.

"I hadn't thought that far ahead."

"Well, _we need...wait a sec, Yune wants' to talk to you._ " The sound of the comm being transferred rattled over the line for a moment before Yune's soft-spoken voice came through.

" _Mr. Callbeck, in the left compartment of the thigh is a set of mountaineering tools_."

Whisper thought of the command ' _Open Left Thigh Compartment'_ and sure enough, a small container in the thigh area of the suit sprang open.

Yune continued his instructions, " _Pull out the grapple and attach it to something that won't move: a boulder or large tree_."

"I'm on the top of a mountain Doctor. There are no trees up here."

" _Look closer, Corporal Callbeck, there must be something_."

Whisper sighed, looking around. He spotted a decent-sized rocky slab sticking out from the ground. Pulling the grapple from the thigh compartment, he looked at it closer. It resembled a fishing reel, but with a cord made of ultra-tough Spectra mountaineering weaves. He lashed the front end around the slab several times. Making sure it was taught, he gave it a sharp tug. It was as good as it was worth.

"Alright Doctor, I'm connected. Now what?"

Yune answered, sounding excited at the prospect of testing out a new invention, " _On the side of the reel is a digital readout. Do you see it_?"

Whisper saw it.

" _Input twenty miles an hour into it and snap the reel to the back of your belt_."

Whisper did as he was instructed, "Done."

" _Now just jump off the mountain_ ," said Yune, matter-of-factly.

"Okay...WHAT?"

" _Jump off. The reel will hold you and unspool at a rate of twenty miles an hour, allowing you to run down the mountainside vertically_."

"Doctor...are you sure about this?"

" _Absolutely not, but the theory and designs are sound_."

Whisper closed his unseeing eyes and offered a prayer to anyone paying attention.

"Spirits of my fathers, hear my now...please don't let me die without throwing that lab rat off the side of this mountain." Letting out a breath, Danny nodded. "Alright, I'm coming down!"

With that said, Whisper leaped off the mountain. The reel pulled taught immediately and Danny landed perpendicularly against the Cliffside—his body anchored tightly by the reel. After a few seconds, the reel loosened. Whisper began to run, vertically down the sheer side of the gorge.

Yune's voice came through the comm, quite unwanted at the moment, _"How's it going, Danny?"_

"I think I have it," Whisper answered. "Please stop talking and let me concentrate."

He had made it down two-thirds of the length of the mountainside when he felt a strong give in the rope.

"Doctor, I think t..."

Whisper had no time to finish. The reel behind him snapped and Whisper slid down nearly six-hundred feet. The suit bounced and clanked as Danny tumbled all the way down before a delightful thirty-foot sheer drop onto the road.

" _Mr. Callbeck, come in! Are you okay?"_

Whisper couldn't answer. The suit had barely managed to absorb the shock enough to halt his bones from breaking, let alone all the air in his body from being pushed out.

Joe's voice came through the comm, very worriedly, _"Hang on buddy, we're on our way."_

Whisper finally found enough air to breathe, "Take your time, I'm not going anywhere."

### Chapter 14

Stuck in the Middle with Yune

THE APC rolled up in front of Whisper—stopping to let Joe and Yune out. Krieger stuck his head out the driver side hatch, shouting, "Nice fall, my friend! Must be world record or something!"

Whisper picked himself up. The suit was registering multiple failures in structural integrity. The Outer skin layer was ceasing to operate and the Accretion Device was also malfunctioning. Worst of all, the helmet had powered down. He was blind again.

Joe ran up and grabbed Whisper by the arm, hoisting it around his shoulders, "Gotcha, buddy. Are you okay?"

Yune rushed over to grasp Whisper's other arm. Together they hauled him back to the APC.

"I'm fantastic," groaned Danny.

Yune apologized profusely, "I'm so sorry Danny, the reel hadn't been fully tested to my rigid demands as of yet."

"Don't worry about it, Dr. Yune," the Canadian replied, his feet moving shakily across the rocky ground. "I suppose it's only a matter of time before something else in this suit does indeed get me killed."

Together, Joe and Yune managed to haul the extremely heavy armored soldier into the back of the APC. The two men stretched Whisper out on the passenger seats on the left side.

Krieger powered on the engine and turned the APC around; back towards the south.

Joe leaned over to speak to their surly driver, "How are we for fuel, Krieger?"

"Not great, but should manage my friend. Don't worry. Afghanistan will be like nice vacation spot compared to that hellhole we left."

Joe sat back in the seat. He closed his eyes, taking the first opportunity he'd had in the last few days for a real time-out. Then he remembered something. He reached into his fatigues and pulled out the strange disc Whisper had given him, "Doc, do you know what this thing is?"

Doctor Yune looked over at the piece of plastic in Joe's hands. His eyes went wide in recognition and he grabbed the device and began flipping it back and forth in his hands, examining it.

"It's...it's the Code!"

Joe was puzzled, "What, you mean _the_ Code? The one Dante kept talking about?"

"Yes, this is it. How did you get it?"

"Ask Danny, he's the one that found it."

Yune held the disc in his hand, thinking quietly to himself. Joe had to nudge the doctor to make him snap out of his thoughts.

"Doctor, do you know what that thing is?"

"No, not really...it's complicated." Yune continued to turn the disc over in his hands, studying the intricacies of its construction, "I'll explain what I know later but trust me when I say that Olympus is going to want this back. At _all_ costs."

* * *

FOR TWO hours the APC trundled through the mountain range. They stopped once to refuel from the external diesel tanks attached to the rear of the vehicle. It sincerely felt like they were driving blind. The general plan was to push the APC as far as it would go and once it had run out of gas, to get out and walk.

So far they'd been lucky. Besides the two Olympus vehicles that had chased them, they'd seen no other aircraft or ground vehicles. It was looking as if their breakneck escape had finally eased down. Joe checked the cabin of the APC and found a small survival kit. Inside were several tinfoil packages of Russian Army rations. The tasteless bricks of protein matter were hardly palatable, but it was all they had and they were grateful for it.

They were, however, out of water.

Joe judged they would be okay for another day, but after that, things could get dangerous.

No one had much to say, especially Joe. The last few days had been so harsh, so painful, that he was left feeling vaguely empty. The thoughts of his lost unit—especially the five living men he had failed to intercept at the fortress—weighed heavily on Joe's mind. He swore that no matter what, he would go back and get his men. His failure in leading his unit would not doom them as well.

By four o'clock in the afternoon, Danny was doing better. Yune switched the suit's remaining power to medical priority. The suit had administered morphine and begun auto-suturing any exposed wounds Whisper had. Joe marveled at the invention, half wanting one for himself.

Joe spent the past half hour fiddling with the APC radio—an antique heap of junk attached like an afterthought underneath the steering column. After getting every manner of static possible, he tossed the receiver to the side in desperation. So much for that.

Suddenly, Krieger hit the brakes, jostling everyone in the vehicle forward. He switched off the engine and listened.

Joe called out from his seat, "What's wrong?"

"Ssshh! Quiet!"

Joe hushed up and listened. A vague rumbling sound echoed off the hills of the Pamir Mountains.

Krieger looked back, "NATO aircraft!"

Joe was perplexed, "How do you know?"

Krieger pointed at his ears, "Can tell the engine sound. F-18 Super Hornet! We are in Afghanistan, or at least very close!"

The news was music to Joe's ears. He popped the lid above him and climbed up to take a look. About three miles to the south he could spot the vague shapes of aircraft zipping through the mountain range. Krieger had been right—it was NATO aircraft out patrolling the border.

The Russian started the APC up and accelerated on.

After another mile, the mountain range began to give way to the familiar flat steppe of the open plains of northern Afghanistan.

Krieger leaned back and yelled, "Looks like Kondoz province, if I don't miss guess!"

Joe was about to ask the Russian how he knew that when a loud *clank _*_ sound reverberated off the armored right side of the APC. Everyone in the vehicle jumped; Joe leaned forward to peer out the window, searching the hills to the west.

"Sniper!" cried Krieger.

"Who is it?" asked Joe, ducking down in his seat.

"Well, we're driving in stolen Russian APC, so who knows? My guess is Taliban. Too low caliber to be American sniper bullet."

Another round hit the APC near the front window, startling Joe. His gaze swept the hills, straining to spot the sniper against the late afternoon sun, "Can't see anything. He might be in that hilly area about six-hundred meters due west of here. What the hell are they trying to do?"

"My friend, there is another problem," Krieger said, tapping Joe on the shoulder and pointing at the odometer, "We are almost out of gas."

"Oh for the love of...are you serious?" asked Joe in exasperation.

"Always serious, my friend!" Krieger gave Joe a wide grin. Abruptly the engine of the APC began to sputter, "There is still tank of gas on back of vehicle. Volunteers to refill?"

The APC managed another few hundred feet before the engine choked and died. They came to a stop dead center in the middle of the open steppe of the Afghan plain.

Joe pushed himself back into his seat in exasperation. _All this way and now we're stuck in the middle of a desert being shot at by Taliban_. Joe shook his head in disbelief, "I'm open to any suggestions you guys might have!"

From the back, Doctor Yune shrugged nervously. Krieger looked over at Joe, his face a mask of cynicism, "We could tell them war is over?"

Several more bullets impacted into the side of the vehicle directly behind Yune. The scientist jumped at the noises. "What are we going to do, Joe?"

There were no weapons in the APC—Olympus didn't seem to be in the business of leaving loaded armaments in just any vehicle for someone to up and steal. Joe had only his Desert Eagle .50. They certainly weren't going to shoot their way out. He couldn't use the Dushka; the sniper would pick him off the instant he stuck his head outside the turret hatch.

Krieger shrugged nonchalantly, "Well we're OK as long as they don't have RPG. Armor is too strong."

After a few more sniper bullets impacted around the passenger side, the shooting abruptly stopped. Joe looked out the window, squinting into the sunlight as he desperately searched the mountains to the west for any movement.

And then he saw them.

Three-person Taliban Fireteam, moving closer. They used the jagged mountainside as cover to help close the distance between them. Joe opened the metal glove compartment in front of him and fished around. He dug out a small pair of binoculars, held them up to his face, and took a closer look. As he had feared, one of the Taliban grunts had an RPG-1—a rocket-propelled grenade capable of blowing a tank from here to Timbuktu.

"They have an RPG," said Joe, his mouth going dry. Their luck had been so bad for the last few hours—why should it change?

Yune, sitting across from Danny's prone form, asked worriedly, "What are we going to do?"

Krieger spoke first, "Don't know...pray?"

Joe had no intention of being blown to hell inside a metal coffin. He pulled himself over the passenger seat. Positioning his body under the turret hatch, he prepared to open it. "I'm going to try to get the RPG bastard with the machine gun. It's our only chance!"

Danny croaked weakly from his makeshift bed, "No...Joe that's suicide. They'll kill you the second they see your face."

An explosion rocked the vehicle roughly, sending Joe flailing wildly against the metal interior. He shook his head and checked his mates. They weren't dead yet. The Taliban idiots must have missed them.

Krieger turned around, "Whatever you do my friend, do it soon. They missed that time—next time probably won't be so lucky..."

Joe took a breath and was about to push open the hatch when a spectacular caterwaul of gunfire echoed outside the APC.

Joe frowned. "That's not the Taliban—who's doing the shooting?"

Krieger yelled into the back, "It is Apache helicopter, my friend!"

Throwing caution to the wind, Joe opened the turret and peered out gingerly. As Krieger had said, to the west a NATO Apache helicopter must have picked up the ruckus on its long-range sensors and came to check it out. The chopper hovered over the Taliban snipers, raining fire from its 30mm chaingun upon their hapless position. Joe saw the insurgents vanish amidst a cloud of dust and bullets.

Joe yelled down into the APC, "It's the cavalry, guys! We're safe!" Joe yanked off his dirty white cotton shirt and climbed out the hatch into the waning light of the Afghan afternoon. He waved the shirt wildly back and forth. The Apache made a brief hover over their position. Joe saw the pilot give them a thumbs up. He waved back.

After all the hell they had been through, their ordeal was finally over.

### Chapter 15

A New Deal

Bagram Airfield - One Week Later

THE BAGRAM Airfield was one of the last major remnants of the Coalition's ten-year conflict in Afghanistan. A veritable city in itself, it was situated in the mountainous province of Parwan, in the more secure eastern section of the country. Built around an old abandoned Soviet airbase left over from the Soviet-Afghan war of the 80s, a veritable boomtown had grown from this remote location over the last decade.

An insanely busy airport spread out through most of the base's surface area, with the rest dedicated to troop barracks, civilian lodgings, a fifty-bed medical center, and a large promenade set up to resemble something similar to the Atlantic City boardwalk. It was an amazing concept that in the middle of a high altitude airbase, one could see Burger Kings and Exchange Dealerships selling American soldiers burgers for supper and new vehicles for when they arrived back home.

At the end of the promenade was the JOC—or Joint Operations Command building—a converted Soviet Airplane Hanger painted a pasty light blue, now utilized as the primary command structure for the US Army Command stationed in eastern Afghanistan.

As Joe Braddock walked along the Promenade, towards the JOC, he was less than interested in the shops selling T-shirts and Starbucks coffee. He walked quickly, flanked by two Army MPs, clad in their camo uniforms and black and white elbow upper arm insignias. Joe was dressed in a newly loaned set of Army fatigues that fit too loose at the waist.

The past week since arriving at Bagram Airbase had been one of the most infuriating times in Joe's life. The Apache had radioed in a nearby overwatch of Marine Black Hawk helicopter transports to come and pick the unusual band of survivors out of the desert. Although the Apache was unable to land itself, two Black Hawks arrived a half-hour after the call was sent. Upon setting down in the steppe, the pilots had asked Joe for his name and unit. After finding he and Danny were from the missing Ranger detail, they immediately loaded the four disparate men into the chopper.

Krieger had been hesitant at first, but Joe told him it would be okay. There was little choice in the matter anyway. The issue came when Krieger refused to give any background on his unit or place of origin. From there, the Marines were forced by regulations to tie his hands before bringing him on board the helo. After searching Yune, they found nothing of interest on his person and allowed him to take care of Whisper with his hands-free and a guard personally assigned to watch him.

The Black Hawks had lifted off, leaving the husk of the trusty APC behind. Joe had made sure one of the accompanying Marines dropped a grenade inside the cabin to make sure the vehicle was no use to anyone else, especially the Taliban. The Marines were unsure about taking Danny aboard, but Joe had managed to convince them the suit was of importance to national security and that the top brass would be very interested in the device.

A four-hour flight had brought them to Bagram Airbase in the dead of night. From there they were split up, against Joe's demands. Krieger was hauled away brusquely by MPs, and Yune and Danny were led off by several paramedics, flanked by Army troops. Joe found himself being taken to what resembled a rather ramshackle barracks and told to shower and sleep. Several MPs stayed with him the entire time, keeping a close eye on his activities.

Joe understood, in the face of Taliban insurgency, that the methods were valid. But still, it felt overly harsh just the same. The MPs brought him a quick meal of meatloaf and potatoes and told him to get some rest.

The day after that, the debriefing started.

For three days, in a closed interrogation room in the JOC, Joe was grilled by two Army Lieutenants for nearly eight solid hours a day with no breaks. Every single possible detail of his capture, imprisonment, and eventual escape was scrutinized and dissected. Joe demanded to see their commanding officer, stating that there were still men in his unit left imprisoned in Olympus's clutches. But his pleading fell on deaf ears. The general thinking was that Joe's incursion across the Kazinistani border had angered the government of the small country and forced a military reaction due to the size of the invading unit. Joe tried to tell them about Olympus, but the Lieutenants barely believed anything he said.

_Jetpacks?_ Stiletto-heeled _Ninja Women? Who the hell do you think we are, Sergeant? Tell us another one!_

A reprieve came on the fourth day of their return. Joe had finally been granted a visit to his friends. Danny was still in the med-center, being treated for the plethora of wounds he'd received in the last few days. Yune had managed to convince the Marines and MPs to allow him to stay with the Canadian. It was only afterward that they'd learned the Whisper suit had been confiscated. It was being taken to a secure site on the base to be held until proper authorization came for its release.

The Bagram Airfield doctors confirmed Danny would never see again. He had also lost five percent of the skin tissue on his face as well as permanent damage to his nasal passages. Yune told Joe he would begin working on a set of bionic glasses for Danny as soon as he could.

Joe also learned that Danny had given his resignation to CANSOFCOM due to his current state. The unit had agreed, wishing him the best and an open offer to return in an administration capacity if ever he wished to. Joe knew it could not have been an easy decision for his friend.

Danny and Yune had asked Joe what became of Krieger. Joe hadn't seen the loud-mouth mercenary for some time and was rather worried himself.

For the last few days of the interminable week, Joe had been confined to barracks. For three days, he sat in a moldy old Army cot waiting for some sort of action.

And now, finally, here he was on his way to the JOC to speak to the base commander—a Brigadier General Anson Howard. With all the evidence weighed, Joe hoped the General would see the truth and green light some sort of rescue to get his boys out of that country and take down those Olympus sons of bitches.

For a command center of one of the largest airbases in Afghanistan, the JOC was lightly staffed. The withdrawal was beginning to put a strain on personnel and most of the remaining staffers within looked haggard and tired. Joe could relate. As he was led up the steps toward the General's office, his stomach was in knots. The memory of his men being loaded into the helicopter and flown away to God knows where was still fresh in his mind. He hoped—no—he _prayed_ the General would listen.

At the top of the heavily air-conditioned hanger, behind a makeshift wall built with stucco and plaster, was the base commander's office. The MPs knocked on the door. Joe took a deep breath.

"Come in!" came a voice from inside.

The MPs opened the door and entered, followed by Joe. The General was sitting behind his desk reading some papers. Joe stood to attention, saluting his superior—eyes forward. The General was far from the classic image of an old-school General. In his mid-fifties, the man had heavy bags under his eyes—probably sleep deprived due to the withdrawal. Still, his uniform was tidy and his white hair was cut high and dry.

The General did not respond to the young Army Ranger. Joe set his tongue in his cheek but stood at attention like a good soldier. After letting him hang for a full ten seconds, the General returned the salute, "Sit down Sergeant. You boys can wait outside." The MPs nodded and left the room. Joe pulled out the uncomfortable looking folding chair opposite the General and sat down as instructed.

"Sorry for the hell we've put you through this past week, Sergeant Braddock, but we had to get some things cleared up."

"Yes sir, thank you, sir," replied Joe in good military order.

The General leaned forward in his chair, folding his hands on the desk. "Now there are many questions that still need to be asked, but first I'm going to ask the most pertinent and it's the one I want you to be completely truthful about."

"Of course sir."

"Good. Now tell me, Sergeant...What _really_ happened to your men?"

Joe blinked at the question, "Sir?"

" _Your_ men, Sergeant. Tell me the truth of what happened to your platoon on June the 6th, 2014."

"Sir...I don't understand," Joe stammered, "I...I gave my statement to the two Lieutenants earlier in the week."

"Oh, I know you did, son," the General said, leaning back in his chair as he regarded the young Sergeant with intelligent eyes. "You may have told them what they wanted to hear, but right now I need you to tell me the full unadulterated truth about what happened out there, not the bullshit story you cooked up about flying jet troopers and space-age private militaries."

Joe didn't know what to say. The General stood up and walked around his desk leaning against it.

"Son...I know the weight of command is hard. I also know you've been waiting on a commission for some time. I don't doubt that whatever happened, you did your duty to try to prevent your platoon's destruction. But if I'm going to protect you, I need to know what happened out there. I know you were just telling that crazy story because you're scared."

Joe had to hide a frown. "Begging the General's pardon, sir but what I said was the truth. God as my witness. Callbeck, Yune, Krieger...they must have backed up my story word for word!"

"They did, son and very well. It was quite a doozy. I don't think I could ever think up something like it myself." The General crossed his arms and continued speaking, "I know those three fellas are loyal to you. You're a born leader, I can tell. You rescued them from a Kazinistan prison. They'd vouch for you if you were in trouble—make up whatever story you needed."

"No sir...you don't understand—it happened, I swear. How do you explain the Whisper suit?"

"Sorry, Sergeant, but that... _unusual_ suit does not prove the existence of some phantom private military. The reality is thirty-nine men are missing from the unit you were commanding. So I need you to tell me the truth about that day."

"Sir, I don't know what else to tell you." Joe could feel his face getting hot, anger boiling up within that he couldn't control, despite his best efforts. "There are still five men out there that are being held by the Olympus Private Military as we speak. I have to rescue them before it's too late!"

He was almost shouting now.

The General looked dismayed. Then his eyes seemed to cloud over with a look of resignation, "Very well, Sergeant. If you refuse to tell me the truth, I have no alternative but to relieve you of duty. I'm sending you back Stateside, where a review of your leadership skills will be assessed and a general court-martial will be convened," The General sighed before adding, "I'm sorry, son but if you can't tell me the truth, there's nothing I can do for you."

Joe sat for a moment in his chair. His world had collapsed in on itself in a matter of moments. He paused for a second before asking, "What about the five men still out there, sir?"

The General sat back into his chair, heavily. "I'm sorry, Braddock. Since I have no clue what happened to your unit, I have no choice but to conclude that all of your men are KIA. We simply have no retaliatory response in another sovereign nation."

Joe sat still as a statue, not believing his ears. Everything seemed to be closing in around him. The room heaved up and down as Joe's eyes felt like they were underwater. Losing his unit and now losing the surviving five men—Privates Johansson, Sakorsky, Peterson, Paulson, and Corporal Tennyson—it was all just too much. Their faces floated past him in his fevered imagination. He had failed them completely. And now his chance to get them back was lost.

The General spoke to him, his voice sounding far away.

"I'm sorry if you're upset, Sergeant but you brought this on yourself."

Something snapped within Joseph Braddock. A surge not unlike electricity coursed through his body. He exploded from his chair and leaped onto the General's desk, arms outstretched. Joe grabbed his superior by the throat, throttling him out of his chair. The two men fell in a cluster of flailing limbs as Joe attempted to choke the life out of the man who dared tell him he had failed.

As soon as Joe had made his insane attack, the MPs had burst into the room. They grabbed Joe, but his manic strength pushed them back. No one would tell him he could not rescue his men. No one would get away with that!

The MPs renewed their efforts and one of the officers successfully landed a punch to the back of Joe's head. His vision went black for a moment and his stunned hands released their grip on the General.

"For Chrissakes!" the General roared, "lock that bastard up right now! Get him out of my sight!"

Joe's head cleared long enough for him to yell back at the General, "What about my men? Let me go, goddamn you! _What about my men?_ "

The MPs hauled Joe out of the office, and onto the floor of the JOC, holding his hands behind his back and slapping a pair of handcuffs on his wrists. The MPs led the struggling Army Ranger through the JOC, with several intrigued onlookers following him with wide eyes.

Joe didn't care. He knew his next stop was the brig.

He knew that the chances of seeing his men alive again had fallen from slim to completely impossible now.

* * *

"Quite a way to end adventure, huh my friend?" Krieger said to Joe from his prison bunk, "I would have thought you would want to stay out of prisons from now on, not be in such a hurry to get back in!"

Due to the lack of space in the detention cells of the military police compound, Joe found himself sharing a twelve-by-twelve foot barred cell with Krieger. The General would certainly be leveling assault charges on him as he sat there. No matter what happened, here or back in the States, Joe's career in the military was over.

All of his struggles in the past few weeks had brought him to this. His own hotheadedness had cost him the lives of his men. His platoon's destruction, his torture at Dante's hands, their amazing escape—all of it added up to a big fat zero.

Krieger leaned against the bars of the cell, chewing on his cheek. "I must say, I would have given my left nut to see look on General's face. He must have pissed you off but good, huh?"

Joe didn't have the energy to answer. What was the point? Here he was six-hundred miles from his friends with only a loudmouth, slightly mad Russian to keep him company.

It honestly couldn't get worse.

Krieger smiled a crooked grin. "You're probably thinking it couldn't get worse my friend but think about it...at least you have _me_ to keep you company, huh?"

Joe's soul groaned.

He leaned back against the wall of the cell. The detention building wasn't air-conditioned—the whole place stunk with a heavy air of BO and dried urine. Joe slid down to sit on the floor, miserable. He'd been forced to remove his Army Combat Uniform and now sat in naught but his fatigues and a white t-shirt.

Krieger tried to break Joe out of his funk. "Any plan on how to get out of this?"

Joe sighed. "None at all. I'd say I've pretty much screwed myself from now until forever."

"Mmm. Not good I suppose." Krieger suddenly remembered something. "How are Danny and Doctor Yume?"

" _Yune_. They're okay. Danny's legally blind. He's resigned from CANSOFCOM."

Krieger pursed his lips, saddened at the news. "Hmm. I am sorry to hear. Good soldier, him. Wish I had many like him when..." He stopped abruptly. He hadn't meant to let that slip. Joe picked up on it.

"When what?"

"Ahh...long story, boring. You ask some other time! Need to sleep now."

The idea of getting a bit of truth out of the mysterious Russian was suddenly appealing to Joe. He needed something to take his mind off his current circumstance, "Come on, we broke you out, I think you owe us some sort of explanation of who the hell you are!"

Krieger's usually sarcastic face darkened significantly. There was no trace of his flippant attitude now. "Large can of worms can't be closed when opened. _But_...I can talk for a minute."

Joe sat up straighter, his full attention given to his fellow prisoner.

"I was career soldier," Krieger said, speaking softly, "No surprise there, I think."

Joe nodded. That sounded true enough. The man was a hell of a shot and could certainly handle himself in a fight.

Krieger continued, "I've not always been...good soldier though...but I've fought with many bad people."

"Who?"

Krieger was angered at the interruption, "Who? _Who_? Are you owl? Let me tell the story."

Joe sighed and paid attention.

The big merc continued his story. "I have fought many wars...many battles. One day, decided to fight for money instead. I was member of Blackwater back in 2007. You know, Private Contractor much like Olympus?"

"I know Blackwater," answered Joe, memories of the cold-blooded PMC vivid in his memory. "I served with some when I first deployed to Iraq back in 2006. How did you manage to work for them? I thought they only hired Americans?"

The Russian took a deep breath, "I was living in Lebanon as mercenary for a time. Needed work fast after being fired one day and Iraq was heating up. I had a set of American documents made and faked my way into the PMC."

The story sounded fishy to Joe, "How'd you manage with your accent?"

Krieger shrugged, "Just told them I was born in US and raised in Ukraine. They didn't care. I was big and bad—just the type they were looking for."

Joe had to concede that point.

Krieger continued his tale, "You remember famous massacre in Baghdad, 2007? Many people killed in streets by men of Blackwater."

Joe nodded wordlessly.

"I was there with them that day, guarding a convoy of...I don't even remember what. I remember the shots ringing out—people running everywhere. So hot that day—could barely see straight. Gunshots rang out. My comrades...they...opened fire, reckless and foolishly." Krieger bit his lip, trying to continue. "So many people died that day. Innocent people killed by a company of men who did not care who they harmed, who they killed. It was all in pursuit of money."

The big Russian took a faltering breath before concluding his story. "I tried to stop it...even hitting one of my comrades, but they...forced me onto sidewalk—held me down. I could hear the sounds of screaming as I tried to get up. It was..." He stopped. A smile widened across his dark face, his frivolous attitude returning. "So you see I got out of there...served other armies, fought other wars until Olympus crossed me. Not much else to say."

Joe raised an eyebrow. There was certainly plenty more to say, but it appeared that was all the merc was going to share for the time being. Joe regarded Krieger for a moment. A newfound respect for the man came over him. He knew the merc was hiding his demons deep and his recent admission must have been hard for him. Joe felt a kinship with the man, knowing they had both lost much in their respective wars.

Before Joe could ask Krieger for further details, the door to the cell opened and two bulky looking MPs marched into the room. Without a word, they walked over to the cell door and unlocked it.

Joe got up from the floor as the door swung wide open. The MPs gestured for Joe and Krieger to exit. Joe was confused, "What's going on?"

The lead MP was a stocky southern grump with a bulldog face and a name tag that read ANDERSON. He gestured to the door and said, "Outside. You're being released."

"What? How the—"

Krieger knocked Joe on the back, "Shut up, fool! Don't look gift horse in mouth!"

The MP's led the two men out of the detention center. As they entered the late afternoon sunlight, the MPs stopped them with a gesture from their batons. MP Anderson motioned for Joe to look to his right, at the western perimeter of the airfield. Joe had to squint against the blaring red sunset, but he managed to see a man standing at the perimeter fence, looking out at the desolate mountain range beyond.

"He asked to see you," said Anderson, gesturing them to move forward.

"Who is ' _He_ '?" asked Joe.

Anderson didn't answer. Instead, he fixed Joe with a blank stare.

Joe shook his head and motioned Krieger to follow him. As they approached the solitary figure by the fence, the dusk light shone on his form and they finally got a good look at the man.

He was dressed in a long trench coat, completely out of place given the heat. His hair was stark gray, with flecks of black throughout. Joe couldn't see his face, but guessed the man was in his late-sixties, early-seventies. Despite his age, the man stood tall and strong. He smoked a thin white cigarette, exhaling the smoke into the Afghan evening with aplomb.

Joe and Krieger looked at each other, not knowing what to say. Joe spoke up first, "Ahh...hello?"

"Sergeant Joseph Braddock?" the man said, his voice spry and full of vibrant strength.

"Yes, and who are you, sir?" asked Joe cautiously.

The man turned around.

Joe breath caught in his throat as he recognized him immediately. Every soldier in the army would know this man by sight alone.

His face was weathered and pockmarked—a face that had seen more than its share of conflict. A large bushy mustache covered his upper lip like a war medal. Spreading down across the left side of his face was a mean scar that started from the top of his forehead and moved through a marled, bleary, sightless eye. The scar seemed to disappear into the man's neck. His experience and intensity exuded from every pore of his being.

Joe was in the presence of a true warrior.

The man began to introduce himself, "My name is..."

Joe cut him off, star-struck, "You're Colonel Jackson Walsh; Iraq, NATO Strategic Command!"

Krieger looked at Joe, an inquisitive look on his face.

Walsh flicked the cigarette away as he answered Joe, "You've heard of me, huh?"

Joe almost sputtered as he talked, "Begging your pardon, sir, there isn't a man in this army that hasn't heard of you."

Krieger crossed his arms, "Well _I_ don't know him."

"This man is the closest thing to a living Audie Murphy you will ever find," Joe explained, his voice shaking in excitement. "He's a legend to every soldier who ever picked up a carbine to fight for his country."

The Colonel waved the comment away like he was dismissing a recruit. "Stop, you're making me blush. I just arrived here from Washington. I know it's getting late, but perhaps you boys will do me the honor of taking a walk?"

Neither Joe nor Krieger had anything else better to do, and Joe was still spellbound that he was in the presence of one of the army's living legends. Colonel Jackson Walsh was the most decorated soldier in the history of the Green Berets—the elite special forces of the United States Army. Tet '68, Granada, Iraq, Afghanistan—if there was a war in the past fifty years, Colonel Walsh had fought it. Joe's mind raced, wondering what in the world a man like this was doing out here meeting them alone. He had last heard the Colonel retired some years back.

What was he doing back in uniform at his age?

Walsh gestured for the two men to follow him. They fell in step with mysterious Colonel as they walked along the perimeter fence—the sun slowly sinking behind the brown-red hills in the west.

"You boys had quite the go around out in that little country. Your escape from Olympus ruffled a lot of feathers at the Pentagon."

"Wait...Olympus? So you believe us?" said Joe, eager to know what the Colonel knew about the Private Military Company.

Walsh nodded sternly, preparing a fresh cigarette. He'd pulled the smoke from a gunmetal cigarette case that he folded back into one of the pockets in his coat. He lit the cigarette with a Ronson lighter and blew smoke into the dry evening air.

"Your little sortie into the country sparked a powder keg, Mr. Braddock." Walsh set the cigarette to the side of his mouth while he talked. "Incidentally, that little stunt you pulled with our friend General Howard is going to get you court-martialed. I wouldn't be surprised if this time next week you were cleaning latrines in Leavenworth with your tongue."

Joe was unfazed by the remark, "My actions are my own, Colonel and I'll live with whatever the consequences are."

The grizzled veteran stopped, looking at the young man. "Even if those consequences mean you never see your men again?"

Joe looked away towards the hills in the far distance. Krieger stood back, arms folded, listening with great interest to what the American Colonel had to say.

Walsh pressed his point, "You know as well as I that whatever use Olympus may have for those surviving men is going to come to an end soon. They could very well be dead already."

"What would you have me do Colonel?" Joe's voice was tinged with anger. "I'm a civilian now. Like you said—time is running out for them and for me."

"Sergeant, your file said you were a lot smarter than you're coming across right now." The Colonel glared at Joe with his good eye. The man had such power that the Ranger felt a wave of intimidation wash over him—as if Patton himself had told him he didn't measure up.

"What is it you want Colonel? I'm sure the Pentagon didn't send you here to spank my ass."

A faint curl of a smile pulled at the Colonel's lip. He reached into his other pocket and pulled out a small computer tablet. He keyed a quick command in and showed it to Joe. A large aerial view of Afghanistan and its surrounding regions flashed onto the screen. Joe watched as a pre-programmed set of commands zoomed the map into the country of Kazinistan. An animated green square blinked on an indeterminate point in the geography. Joe looked up at the Colonel, puzzled.

"That is the location of Olympus Base Liberatio. Your men are being held there."

Joe's heart skipped a beat. "How do you know? I mean how do you know for sure?"

The Colonel shook his head, "A secret for later, Mr. Braddock. For now, suffice to say satellite imaging has shown significant Olympus operations centering on a base in the lower mountains, about two-hundred miles north of fortress _Bellum—_ the place you boys just broke out of." Walsh pushed the tablet back into his coat pocket, "Your men, however, are not the reason I'm here—" Walsh reached into the same pocket and pulled out a smaller object, the size of a credit card, "— _this_ is."

It was the obsidian colored disc Joe had given to Dr. Yune back in Kazinistan.

"Do you recognize this, Braddock?"

"Whis...Corporal Callbeck gave it to me in the fortress. He said he found it in a secret computer lab hidden in the basement."

"That's all you know?" asked Walsh, a skeptical look on his weathered face.

Joe frowned, "Yes sir, why?"

"This little device I'm holding is one-half of perhaps the single most destructive weapon in the history of mankind."

Joe raised his eyebrows. Krieger snickered.

The Colonel looked deadly serious.

Joe gestured for the Russian to hush up. "Sorry, Colonel...but you have to be joking."

Walsh stared Joe dead in the eye, "Sergeant, if you get to know me any better, you will quickly discover that I never joke. For the time being, I have...requisitioned this disc from the good Doctor Yune." The Colonel pocketed the disc back into his jacket. "Olympus has been around longer than you think. They didn't just pop out of the woodwork to make your life hell." He paused to take a quick drag on the cigarette, blowing the smoke out his nose before saying, "For the time being I'll sate you with the simple knowledge that these guys are no ordinary Private Military. What they are planning is big—far bigger than that postage-stamp-sized shithole of Kazinistan, that's for sure."

Joe was confused and tired of being made a fool of. "Sorry sir, I don't understand."

"Of course, you don't, Sergeant. That's why I'm the Colonel."

Krieger leaned to whisper in Joe's ear, "He is very intense, no?"

The Colonel moved to stand in front of the two men. He exhaled a mouthful of smoke and removed the cigarette so every word he spoke would be enunciated perfectly. "Now I'm going to level with you boys right now and make you this offer one time only."

Neither man moved. The Colonel had their full and undivided attention.

"Now you can both choose to return to your cells where you will each be dealt with in turn. You Mr...Krieger is it? You'll be returned to the Russian authorities, where you will most likely end up in some hellhole in Siberia and—" The Colonel looked at the massive Russian's bulk before continuing, "—probably end up owning the place."

Krieger shrugged. "I adapt. I kill. It's what I do best."

The Colonel's eyes turned back to Joe. "You, Mister Braddock will have to live with the knowledge that you gave your men up without a fight; disgraced your unit and your uniform for the sake of punching a fool General. Or..." The Colonel let the last word hang for a moment. "... _Or_ you can both help me take these bastards down. The Pentagon brass, along with the CIA has pulled me out of a peaceful retirement for one reason only−put together a team of Army and Navy multi-national soldiers to act as a covert retaliatory response to Olympus. It won't be easy, and it will probably get you killed. I need to know yes or no right now before I tell you anything else."

Krieger pushed his hands into the pockets of his fatigues, averting the Colonel's gaze. He was not happy about the arrangement, Joe could tell. The big merc was used to having things his way. Joe decided to let him speak for himself. As for his own choice...

"I have two questions before I answer, Colonel."

"You can ask, Mr. Braddock. Whether I answer is up to me."

Joe nodded. "What about my men? If I join your unit, will you help me get my men out of Kazinistan?"

"In this case, you're in luck Sergeant, because our purposes are intertwined. What I want is in that same fortress. If you agree to join my unit and help me to get what I'm looking for, I will help you get your men out."

"And after that?" asked Joe, fearing the answer.

"That's more complicated. After that, well, things only really begin. If you join my unit, I will make sure the assault charge and impending court-martial disappear. And you..." he gestured to Krieger, "I will grant you asylum within the United States as a paid mercenary under my strict command."

Krieger scoffed.

Walsh took a beat before speaking again, as if apprehensive about what he had to say next, "The bad news for the both of you is that your identities and pasts will be effectively erased. Your family, your friends, your comrades—everything is left behind until the mission is accomplished _._ Understand?"

Krieger sighed and then shrugged, "I have no family, no friends. Olympus has made me a very unhappy man. I would like to return favor."

Walsh nodded, and then turned to Joe, "What about you?"

"What qualifies as mission accomplished?" asked Joe, his mouth going dry at the prospects the Colonel was giving him.

"That will be up to me, as your commander, to say when you've had enough."

Joe scowled. It wasn't an easy decision for him.

This is crazy...drop everything...my whole life, just to help stomp out a private military?

He walked over to stand at the fence, gripping the chain links tightly with his hands. He thought about his guardians, Liza and Thomas Braddock, enjoying their retirement in Kansas. He'd never see them or talk to them again. _Forget your family._ It was an impossible request.

But something nagged at Joe.

Over his past eleven years in the military, what had he accomplished? Jumping from one war to another with no end in sight. This offer could be a chance for him to truly make a difference and to bring the survivors of his unit back home. Joe had a feeling somewhere deep inside that this was what he was meant for—what he had been born to do. All his time in the Rangers was leading him to this moment.

He made his decision.

"You've got a deal, Colonel."

Walsh nodded businesslike. "Good. Welcome aboard, boys. I know you fellas have been traveling light of late, so there's no need to pack. We'll head to my 'home away from home' and see Corporal Callbeck and Doctor Yune."

The Colonel turned to leave.

Joe's ears perked up at the mention of his friend's name, "Wait, Danny's coming?"

Walsh stopped in his tracks, "Oh yes, I forgot to mention that. I don't know if you know yet, but the Corporal has resigned his commission from the Canadian Armed Forces. I offered him a job, considering it sounds like you both owe him your lives."

Joe pressed the issue, "And Doctor Yune?"

"Doctor Yune is a...special case. I doubt you would know by now, but Toshiro Yune has been working for the CIA for some time. They had him gathering intelligence for us while he was being held in Uzbekistan by Olympus. When we tried to get him out, Commander Dante intercepted the NATO force tasked to bring the Doctor to Islamabad. He continued to feed me information while he worked for them, as slowly as he could."

Joe had to take a second to swallow all this information. _The scientist, that meek little guy was CIA_? It explained a few things but raised even more questions. Joe made a mental note to question the good Doctor about it when he could get a free minute.

Walsh checked his watch. "Alright, gentlemen, if there's nothing else, we've got a fair chunk of work ahead of us. Get anything you need from your cells and prepare to meet your future."

With that, the old war hero turned around and walked back towards the brig.

Joe looked over at Krieger. The big merc shrugged and followed after Walsh, leaving the Ranger with his thoughts.

Another fine mess Joe. What have you got yourself into?

Joe sighed to himself before hurrying to catch up with Krieger.

### Chapter 16

Meet the Team

ONE THING to be said about Colonel Walsh: he wasn't into wasting time. After his meet and greet with Krieger and Joe, the Colonel had led them back to a small green army jeep parked at the detention center. Joe and Krieger piled in while the Colonel sat on the driver's side. Starting the jeep, the Colonel steered the vehicle towards the airport. The men sat quietly, awkwardly in fact. Walsh didn't speak a word the whole short trip, leaving Joe and Krieger alone with their thoughts.

Bagram Airbase at night became almost another entity altogether. Street vendors packed up and closed up shop, while the bars tried to rope in the off-duty officers and servicemen. Joe had been here a few times in the past five years, but the place looked noticeably quieter. Bagram had already been handed over officially to the Afghan Army's control, even though the American Army still maintained operational management of the base for the time being.

Joe gloomily leaned back in his seat. He had no real idea what he was signing up for, but the next time he came back to this damn country would be too soon. Whatever tasks or missions that this Colonel Walsh would be asking of him, Joe hoped it would take him far from here; hopefully never to return.

The sun was quickly setting behind the red-brown hills behind them as the jeep barrelled along towards the entry to the airport. After being waved through by two tired-looking MPs standing duty at the checkpoint, Walsh maneuvered the jeep towards the south end of the airport. As the sun set, the apron lights fluttered on—swathing the runways with ambient radiance. Walsh aimed the jeep towards the end of the parking apron where Joe recognized two large, quad engine Lockheed C-5 Galaxy's, parked side by side, along with several F-18 Hornets. Mechanics were still working on them into the early evening.

_No end to safety checks even in peacetime_ , thought Joe.

The jeep sped along the apron until it reached the end. Walsh pointed a finger from the steering wheel at their destination. Sitting at the end of the parking apron was a C-17 Globemaster III airplane—one of the classic workhorses of the American Military war machine.

But this one seemed...different somehow.

Krieger leaned forward, highly interested in the sight of the massive transport aircraft. The airplane was slightly larger than most C-17's, and Joe had been on more than a few. The exterior also seemed different somehow, as if the aircraft paneling on the exterior used a different material than the normal steel and aluminum that all C-17s were made of.

Joe looked quizzically at Colonel Walsh, who responded to their unanswered questions. "This is my baby, the _Barbarian_. She's a test vehicle designed by a joint team of CIA techs and the good folks at Boeing. She's been given to me personally for field testing." The Colonel took a slightly longer route, making a wide turn around the airplane exterior so his new recruits could get a good look at his so-called 'baby'. "She's bigger than an average C-17 by about five percent. She's also been retrofitted with 30mm pilot controlled autocannons, a 40mm Bofurs cannon, and every advanced ultra-modern piece of chutzpah the military could jam in it."

"What's with the weird coloring?" Krieger asked.

Walsh smiled a leathery grin, "A little gift from the CIA. A radar refracting chemical coat surrounds the outer hull. This baby is completely silent on all forms of known radar."

As Walsh brought the Jeep around to the aft of the aircraft, Joe could see several people working at the opened aft cargo ramp. They were using a gantry system to remove a sleek Black Hawk helicopter from the cargo bay. It was an absurd sight: a powerful helicopter with its rotors trussed up for transport like a hanging chicken.

Walsh brought the rental Jeep to a stop several meters from the plane. As Joe stepped out of the jeep, he noticed a familiar face walking down of the airplane aft ramp. The man wore a pair of dark sunglasses on his handsome face.

"Danny!" shouted Joe.

Callbeck's face perked up at the sound, stepping off the ramp carefully to go meet the late arrivals.

"Joe! Better late than never, huh? Is that Krieger with you?"

" _Dah,_ my friend," said Krieger, happy to see Danny as well, "you are looking well!"

"I feel well, thanks," said Danny, his voice still sounding like soft sandpaper, "He probably told you already, but our friend Colonel Walsh offered me a job here."

Joe smiled, clapping his friend on the shoulder, "Yeah? Doing what?"

Danny smiled, "Well...let's just say that the suit and I have gotten to like one another."

Joe laughed, "Well then, this idea may not be a total wash after all." He took a brief second to look closer at his friend. The sunglasses he wore were similar to the ones Yune had given him back at the fortress, with a small electrode that connected behind Danny's ear. Hanging proudly around his neck was the Inuit charm given to him by his father—taken from Agrippina during their final tussle.

Danny seemed to sense what Joe was looking at. He raised a hand to clasp the necklace. "The souls of my fathers are with me again. I'll need their guidance for what is to come."

Joe nodded respectfully.

Krieger swatted Danny and Joe hard on the backs. "Look at this! Gang's back together again, no?"

Walsh walked straight by the group, saying as he went, "Are you guys finished your little Bridge club meeting? Excellent! Now get the hell inside the plane—we have work to do!"

When the old man was out of earshot, Danny whispered to Joe, "He's quite... _something_ , the Colonel."

Joe chortled softly, "Tell me about it." The three men chuckled together and followed the Colonel up the ramp into the C-17. It did Joe good to be reunited with his friend. The Canadian's quiet strength and candor had been greatly missed this past week.

As they walked, Danny spoke quietly to Joe, "I heard about your incident with the General. Kind of an unorthodox way to go about rescuing your men, wouldn't you say?"

Joe nodded guiltily. "I don't know what made me do it. I wasn't in control at that moment. My career in the Rangers is done. Not many other options left for a soon to be court-martialed army vet."

"The Colonel says we're going to get your men," Danny said. "Is that true?"

Joe replied, "It's the deal I made. He wants something and I want something. Win win."

Danny looked blindly at the direction Krieger was walking and asked, "What about you big guy?"

"I just go where action is," the Russian said, scratching his neck. "You guys blow lots of stuff up. I guess here is good place to be for now."

"Where's Doctor Yune?" Joe asked Danny.

"Inside."

"You heard he's CIA too?"

Danny nodded, "Yeah. Strange circumstances, huh?"

"You ever get the feeling we're in over our heads?" asked Joe, figuratively.

"All the time. You know Joe, I may be blind as Ray Charles—" Danny said, as he walked inside the plane's cargo area, —but we'll get through this. I've got a good feeling that the spirits are looking out for us."

Joe smiled. At that moment, he too felt things were once more coming together.

* * *

THE AFT section of the C-17 resembled most models Joe had seen in his career in the military. There was a large cargo transfer area with folding seats attached to the walls, and a pulley system built into the floor. The system was designed to allow large cargo items—like the Black Hawk—to be easily loaded and stored for extended flights.

But two-thirds of the way into the plane, the interior drastically changed from that of Joe's memory and into something more akin to James Bond. A wall separated the cargo area with a large interior computer monitoring station. As Walsh guided them through the doorway leading into the high tech room of the aircraft, Joe saw two young men working the computer systems—paying no attention to the approach of Walsh and his recruits. Joe guessed these boys controlled the autocannon systems, as well as radar and operations. A large LED screen was embedded in the wall on the starboard side of the cabin which was currently showing a blown-up satellite image of Afghanistan. In the far corner of the plane was a desk that contained the Whisper armor, draped over a metal mannequin.

To the right of the stations was a short flight of stairs leading up to the cockpit. Two other people were working at various locations around the plane. Supervising the loading of the Black Hawk was a lovely Latino woman dressed in a black T-shirt, with grease smears on her hands, shirt, and face. As Joe and his crew walked past her, Walsh stopped to introduce her.

"This is Warrant Officer Isabella Cordova, one of our members on loan to us by the Marine Corps. Top tier pilot and mechanic—one of the best I've ever seen. She's the pilot of our Black Hawk. "

Joe nodded to her in friendly respect. A sarcastic smirk curled the beautiful woman's lips as she returned the nod. Krieger nudged Joe in the back, whispering, "Not bad, eh tovarisch?"

Joe rolled his eyes, "Get your head out of the clouds, Krieger."

The other person was a tall black man in his early 40s, with a short mustache and goatee and piercing sea-blue eyes. He was bent over a computer screen talking quietly with one of the technicians as Walsh approached him.

"This is Sergeant Alistair 'Brick' Reynolds, Special Air Service."

The man named Brick looked up from his business to manage a quick _'_ ello in a lucid cockney accent. Joe was surprised by this fellow. How in the hell did the Colonel get a British SAS operator to join his little band of merry men and women? SAS operators were known as insanely proud, extremely capable soldiers who rarely worked outside their organization. Joe had met several SAS and had learned to give them a fairly wide berth. Not that they were bad guys or anything; they did have a reputation for being temperamental and fastidious in their clannish devotion to one another. Oddly, Joe got a very different vibe from this bloke.

The sound of footfalls came from the stairway to the cockpit and in a few seconds, Dr. Yune stepped down into the cabin. Upon seeing Joe, the Doctor blanched noticeably before walking over to Walsh, a sheaf of papers in his hand.

Danny leaned over to speak in Braddock's ear, "Go easy on him Joe. I only found out yesterday about him being CIA. Remember, he did help us escape."

"There's no problem bud, what's done is done—as long as the lies end here."

Hearing their hushed conversation, Yune walked over to the companions, his face tight with trepidation, "Hello gentleman, I...I must apologize for deceiving you back at the fortress..."

Joe held up his hand, "Easy, Doctor, we understand. If it wasn't for you, we'd never have escaped."

Yune nodded grimly.

Walsh stepped in front of the LED monitor, arms behind his back, "Okay everyone gather round. I don't want to repeat myself here."

There were no available chairs, so they had to either stand or lean against the hull as the Colonel spoke in his forceful, articulate voice, "Well, here you all are. You all know me and soon you will all know each other. We are here for one reason and one reason alone: investigate and deal with the Olympus Private Military. The United States government has authorized the creation of this team and given me a sizable increase in our operating budget. Why? To fund a near-impossible mission that will most likely fail and get all of us killed. That being said, anyone who wants to leave has this one last chance to get the hell off my plane. Because the only chance you'll get to leave afterward is out the door at thirty-thousand feet."

The plane cabin was silent as a tomb. Walsh nodded, "Okay, now we can get down to business. Doc?"

Dr. Yune walked over to stand by the Colonel. Walsh reached into his pocket and handed back the small credit card-sized disc to the scientist. Yune held it up to show everyone before taking over the briefing, "To let those who were not present know, this item was taken from the Olympus fortress designated _Bellum_ , which now—thanks to Sergeant Braddock—no longer stands."

Joe let a small grin edge across his face. Krieger looked at Isabella, who had moved to lean against one of the technician tables, "It was awesome show! We slaughtered dozens of PMC fools. _Bang Bang!_ You should have seen—"

Joe delivered a sharp elbow into the Russian's ribs. Isabella rolled her eyes at the mercenary's attempt to impress her. Krieger shrugged. "It _was_ awesome..."

Yune sighed impatiently, "If I may continue? As I was saying, Corporal Danny Callbeck infiltrated a room within the basement of the fortress which contained a massive computer mainframe that had hitherto been working on some sort of computer Code. In the time I was held at the fortress, I was never given adequate access to the location of the mainframe area, but was able to discern a rather disconcerting fact—" The scientist raised the strange disc so all in the briefing room could see it, "—that this device is part of a binary code, useless on its own but combined with the other half, it is more important to Olympus than any known weapon in their arsenal."

The SAS man, Brick, spoke up for the first time as he leaned against the port hull of the airplane. "So what the hell is this Code thing?"

_Damn good question_ , thought Joe.

Yune looked at Colonel Walsh for a moment before responding, "We don't know...I mean _I_ only know that it is the single driving element of Olympus and that all of their resources for the past year have been spent developing this Code. We have no technology capable of reading the disc as of yet. It's a completely unknown design to me."

Danny spoke next, "Agrippina mentioned something about 'lifting the fog from the eyes of the world'. What do you think she meant?"

Nobody seemed to have an idea. It was Walsh who spoke first, chuckling under his breath at an amusing thought, "It's strange...the phrase reminds me of something my old mentor once told me."

Everyone piped down to listen to the old Colonel.

"Back during the Cold War, I served on Secretary of Defense, Bob McNamara's team of go-to intelligence operatives. For you young-chuckleheads, he's the man that ran the Vietnam War for seven years. He loved giving us little lectures and lessons about the nature of war and causality. A phrase he used often in his lectures to anyone who would listen, was 'the Fog of War'."

Joe had heard the phrase before in books and the occasional discussions with higher-ups. He listened to the Colonel explain what it meant.

"It's the concept that war is, in itself completely impossible for the human mind to grasp. That we as a species have made war as important to our daily lives as religion. Ergo, there is no way to explain or comprehend war in its entirety."

The group murmured amongst themselves. Isabella piped up, "What does that have to do with this Code disc, sir?"

Walsh shrugged. "Search me. It was just a story of my old mentor."

Joe jumped in next, "Could the Code be some sort of, I dunno...virus that attacks military systems or something?"

Yune shrugged, "If that's what it is, why the need for my drone technology? I have no idea why they required my data-gathering devices if it is just a computer virus."

Walsh stepped in, "In any case, whatever this Code is, Olympus will want it back. Let me warn you folks, right now that I believe we are looking at a full-scale escalation of Olympus Military operations. This is only the beginning."

Disregarding the ominous words, Isabella asked another nagging question. Joe turned to listen as the elegant, but tom-boyish Marine Corp pilot spoke, trying to get a feel for his new teammate's character.

"Sir, why did Kazinistan allow Olympus free run of their country? I mean come on, what nation would want such a powerful group operating within it, almost unchecked?"

Walsh stroked his mustache as he answered, "The CIA and myself believe Olympus needed the resources of a country completely at their service to begin formulating this 'Code'. The Kazinistani president is extremely wealthy—one of the wealthiest in the old-Soviet satellite nations. Kazinistan is remarkably closed off from the rest of the Middle East. I believe they think that now is their time—now is when they want to make their presence in the Middle East known and feared."

Joe shook his head, "Olympus isn't interested in some petty two-bit wannabe dictator. That commander, Dante, told me that the President was only a means to an end."

Walsh nodded, "Exactly my line of thinking as well. We believe—now that we have the first part of the binary Code—Olympus has little use left for that country and may withdraw back to the hole they came from." The Colonel pointed at the LED monitor. "We have a twofold mission ahead of us. CIA intel has located the second fortress right here."

Walsh picked up a remote laying on one of the tables and pressed a button. The screen on the monitor zoomed up and then back down towards the country of Kazinistan, sitting north of Afghanistan. Like the satellite image, Walsh had shown Joe, the visual on the screen focused in on a small blip on the map. The Colonel zoomed in closer until the satellite image was as close as it could go. The blown-up image was that of a mountain fort similar to Fortress _Bellum_ , but maybe half the size.

"This is Fortress Liberatio, Olympus's second base in Kazinistan." Walsh said, tossing the remote to Yune. "A reliable source has informed us that the second half of the Code is being formulated here."

Joe put his hand up. When Walsh acknowledged him, Joe asked, "Who is this 'reliable' source', Colonel?"

Walsh smoothed his mustache, "For the time being, Sergeant, that will remain my little secret."

Joe snorted under his breath.

Walsh continued the briefing. "As with Fortress _Bellum_ , Liberatio is a converted Russian fortress, though not as large. It is, however, harder to reach," Walsh checked his watch, "It is precisely 20:00 hours. Intel shows a mass amount of movement via helicopter and Olympus _Hyperion_ VTOL transport aircraft throughout the day. We have every reason to believe that tonight is the last chance to infiltrate the base and steal the second part of this Code—"

"—and rescue my men," added Joe, making sure the Colonel did not forget the most important part.

"I was just getting to that Sergeant," said Walsh irritably, "Here's how this Op will go down..."

The Sergeant nodded to Yune who keyed in another command into the LED monitor. The Satellite image immediately launched into a pre-programmed mission tutorial. The team members took everything in with practiced efficiency, leaning on every word of the mission brief as if it were life and death.

Walsh began his plan of infiltration, "A daylight attack is out so we will be going in tonight in precisely three hours."

Joe's eyebrows rose to the rafters. _Tonight? Mount an incredibly dangerous op in exactly three hours?_

Walsh continued, "Using our lovely new Stealth Black Hawk, Cordova will drop our two heroes there—" he said gesturing to Krieger and Joe before turning back to the monitor, "—to this location two klicks due south of the fortress. The Black Hawk has been outfitted with a radar refracting stealth system, similar to the _Barbarian_. It will allow us to approach silently and drop our two boys off. Sergeant Braddock and...Mr. Krieger will then climb the south-facing mountainside up into the fortress."

Joe's head started to spin. He raised his hand, interrupting Walsh.

"Colonel, it's been a while since I've climbed anything like what you're describing. How are we expected to get up there?"

Krieger chuckled at Joe's reticence, "What, can't climb little mountain now, intrepid Ranger man?"

Joe snorted. "Hardly. It's just...it may be a bit of a hassle attempting to climb such a sheer surface at night with so little prep."

"Like I thought," Krieger said, smiling, "he _is_ scared."

Joe was about to smash out the Russian's teeth before Walsh interjected, "Calm down boys. Our friends at the CIA have given me a lovely bounty of toys to play with, Sergeant. Trust me, getting up the mountain will be the least of your worries." Walsh looked at the screen, having lost his train of thought, "Where was I? Oh yes, Corporal Callbeck, hitherto to be referred to by his new callsign, Whisper, shall infiltrate the base from the air. Doctor?"

Yune took over, "I have added a small upgrade into the Whisper suit infrastructure that will allow Corporal Callbeck to glide from a very high altitude and make a silent entrance onto the top of the mountain. The _Barbarian_ will pilot near the fort at thirty-thousand feet, allowing Corporal Callbeck to make a high altitude glide onto the base."

Walsh stepped in, saying to Danny, "Yune will work with you further on this, Corporal. Trust me, the suit will not let you down."

Whisper nodded. If the Canadian was apprehensive about the op, he didn't show it.

Walsh folded his arms in front of him as he went on, "Joe and Krieger will be carrying C9 detonation charges which you will lay at these following coordinates." The computer showed a top-down image of the central yard of the base. "You two sods—" The Colonel pointed to Krieger and Joe, "—are in charge of placing the charges throughout the base. C9 is an experimental explosive compound that uses a highly compacted form of Composition 9—a massively powerful explosive. Four charges should be more than enough to collapse the base in on itself. We believe the prisoners are being held somewhere in this general area; a small building on the northern side of the base.

Joe's ears perked up.

My men...

Walsh's eyes fixed themselves on Joe. "Once the demo packages are planted, use stealth, and make your way to the prisoner cells and release your men, Sergeant. Concurrently, Whisper shall infiltrate the interior of the base and locate the server room and—hopefully—the second part of the Code."

Walsh wrapped up the briefing by saying, "Once your men are out and the Code is located, call for retrieval and we'll fly in the Black Hawk, where Sergeant Reynolds here—" the Colonel motioned to Brick, "—will provide overhead support with the side minigun. Evac on board the helo before blowing the det-packs."

The team was quiet for a moment. The sheer audaciousness of the plan was overwhelming. Joe put a hand on his neck, feeling a creeping sense of helplessness worm it's way into his body. He had signed on to a suicide mission. But if there was even a remote chance of getting his boys out, he would take it, no questions asked.

Well, maybe one question. It had been bugging him for some time.

"Sir, how did Olympus get the equipment and weaponry it has? Jetpacks, RynoHyde armored suits, concussive rifles...where did all of that come from?"

Walsh turned off the LED monitor, "I've fought these guys for a long time now, sometimes on my terms, sometimes on theirs. One thing I have learned is they are the top-funded private military in the world and have hidden away vast amounts of tech almost unheard of in the history of modern warfare. Believe me when I say we are only seeing a fraction of their true potential."

Joe sighed softly to himself. The Colonel hadn't really answered his question or assuaged his fears of facing Olympus once more.

Krieger spoke next, having been silent for a few minutes too long, "That is great! They have flying packs and supersonic jets and assholes in armor...what do we have, ser?"

Walsh answered with a curl of a smile under his bushy mustache, "We have you guys. You are all the best of the best and have proved yourselves capable against this PMC before. Now is the time to prove that wasn't a fluke."

### Chapter 17

Into the Cold Fire

AFTER THE briefing, they all separated toward their appointed tasks. Isabella went back outside to finish prepping the helicopter, while Brick and Doctor Yune led Krieger and Joe over to a large cabinet installed against the C-17's port hull. Unlocking it with a small key, he opened it to reveal an arsenal of two dozen different rifles.

"Take what you need, boys," said the Brit, his accent throwing Joe off for a second. It was a rich Cockney sound that Joe hadn't heard in some time. Krieger selected an MP5 submachine gun. Beneath the rifles were several handguns, each stored carefully with locks on the triggers. Both men selected 9mm Berettas as their sidearms. For his rifle, Joe reached for an M4A1 carbine—his old standby. Brick walked over to a stack of half a dozen small crates labeled _Danger - Explosive Ordinance_ and unlocked them as well. He pulled out several magazines of ammo and tossed them to each man in turn. Brick also pulled out two pairs of night infiltration gear, black colored fatigues, and long-sleeved shirts, as well as two pairs of night-vision goggles.

Joe accepted the getup and looked around for a change room.

Brick laughed, "What? Fraid we're gonna laugh at what you've got, little man?"

"Don't flatter yourself," Joe answered as he removed his grimy T-shirt. The week of downtime luckily hadn't taken a toll on his body as his muscles were still well toned under his clothes. He removed the fatigues and pulled on the black stealth gear with no further complaint.

Krieger waved off the shirt but took the pants, saying "I wear my own shirt. Could use new pants, though."

They finished dressing and Brick threw Joe a dark brown flak jacket. He accepted it, strapping it on immediately. Once again, Krieger shook his head at the offer. When they had a free moment, Joe told himself to ask the Russian what he had against bullet protection.

Lastly, Brick tossed them suppressors, two survival knives, and four M-9 grenades each. Finishing up their kit checks, the two men prepped their weapons, screwing on the suppressors to their rifles.

Doctor Yune passed each man a small five-inch computer tablet, explaining, "These are Operation Tablets or OpTabs, as we call them. They are extremely rugged and the reverse sides are bulletproof. They will provide mission information at your request. Take the time during the trip to get to know them."

Joe took his tablet and slipped it into his backpack. Next, Brick handed each man a collection of climbing tools. Joe had been trained how to climb in the Rangers, but hadn't done any for a year and had never climbed at night.

Brick talked as he helped Joe and Krieger suit up, "The mountain under the fortress is not particularly high, but it _is_ steep. You'll be needing this lot of equipment to make your way up in time."

The equipment included state of the art anchors, cords, and carabiners, as well as a set of spiked boots. As Joe and Krieger packed up their gear, Doctor Yune passed each of them two very odd-looking devices resembling short pickaxes.

"These are CIA developed T-22 Climbing Axes," said Yune, his voice tinged with pride.

Joe turned the ax over in his hand feeling the weight. He noticed a strange button near the top of the grip on both tools.

"What's this for?" asked Joe.

"Whatever you do don't press that," answered Yune.

"Why?"

"When you do, the ax tip will be instantly superheated to six-hundred degrees. If used during a cut, it will flash melt the rock that the hammer hits, allowing for an unparalleled grip into the mountainside."

Joe looked at the ax, a bit more cautiously this time, "I'll keep that in mind."

Yune pushed his glasses back onto his nose. "Trust me, Sergeant, it will allow you to climb easier and faster. You'll be happy to have it. There is a safety worked into it, and requires the touch of your skin to activate it; so don't worry about it being turned on by accident."

Joe shrugged and packed the tool away.

Brick handed them each a backpack, "Each pack has two charges of Composition 9, rigged to explode via remote. There's also two smaller charges of C4, in case you need to blow open the door of the prison."

There was a suspicious look in Krieger's eyes. " _Who_ has remote for C9 charges?"

"I do," Brick replied, his voice stone cold. "Once we're all on board the helicopter, we blow the base and everyone in it. Nuff said."

As Joe and Krieger finished their equipment check, Walsh made his way through the cabin towards his new recruits, "Well, you two almost look like you belong in my unit. Remember to act quickly when you're in that fortress—we have no idea how many troopers are located in the bowels underneath the mountain. Get in and get out—that's the most important thing."

Outside of the aircraft, the Black Hawk had finished its rotor fold out and flight check. Joe heard the sound of the engine igniting and rotor blades spinning to life. Remarkably, the Black Hawk was about fifty percent less noisy than the hundreds of such aircraft Joe had flown in the past several years. Joe checked his watch. 21:30 hours. It would be a three-hour flight from Bagram to Kazinistan via the helo.

They would be cutting it close.

Walsh spoke to the Black Hawk crew a final time, "So remember, boys, check your Operation Tablets for the advanced briefing and map layout of the area. You have three hours to become experts regarding the four-kilometer radius of the Pamir Mountains where you're being dropped. Be prepared."

Joe and Brick nodded. Krieger scratched his neck.

Walsh gestured outside the plane, "Your ride's waiting, gentleman."

Joe saluted the Colonel before proceeding down the ramp towards the waiting helicopter.

* * *

AS JOE, Krieger, and Brick piled into the stealth Black Hawk, they stowed their equipment under the seats for the three-hour trip. Joe took one last look around the airport before sliding shut the side door. In the pilot seat, Isabella did some final liftoff preparations before getting underway. Her copilot, an ex-Marine corps flyer who Isabella introduced as Chief Collins, took the seat beside Cordova to begin the flight check. Joe took the time to get to know their new companions.

"So how did the Colonel rope you two into this little group?" he asked both of them.

Brick answered first, "Long story, mate. Probably better for another time."

Joe pressed the question, "Come on, it's a three-hour flight. How much time do you need?"

"Let's just leave it for now that these PMC sods have screwed me in the past. The Colonel gave me a good deal to face them on my own terms. I took it and now here I am, know what I mean?"

Krieger set his silenced MP5 butt-first on the floor of the aircraft, yelling over to Isabella, "What about you honey pie? What is story with Marine pilot joining up with outlaws like us?"

Joe rolled his eyes.

Completely unruffled by the rude statement, Isabella responded nonchalantly, "Just wanted to lend a hand, so dumb Russian meatheads like you can go and get their heads shot off."

"I think we just made new friends, eh Joe?" Krieger said, leaning back in his seat.

In the cockpit, Isabella heard the OK come through her radio. She spoke briskly, "Roger, Peacemaker One, liftoff in ten seconds."

Joe looked over at Brick, squinting in the barely lit cabin of the helicopter. He asked the SAS soldier, "What's with this Peacemaker name?"

Brick looked confused at the question. "Didn't the Colonel mention it? That's his name for our unit."

Krieger didn't understand. "Peacemaker? Never heard that name before. What does it mean?"

Joe answered, "It's a military phrase for those that keep the peace—soldiers who stabilize the war zone. They bring peace in a conflict."

Brick almost laughed. "Actually, the Colonel choose it cause it's the name of his favorite gun, the Colt Peacemaker."

The Black Hawk lifted off of the Bagram runway apron and into the starry Afghan night, banking towards the north. As he sat in his seat, looking out the window at the rapidly vanishing airbase, Joe reflected on the past week and how he'd come so far. He hoped he hadn't made a terrible error in joining this group of unknowns in a battle that would surely test him to his limits. He set the dark thoughts aside.

All that mattered was getting his boys out.

Everything else was second.

* * *

AS THE C-17 flew considerably faster than the Black Hawk, Walsh delayed their takeoff by another hour. They would have plenty of time to reach the infiltration position and the added delay gave Corporal Danny Callbeck some needed time with Doctor Yune to go over the suit's new modifications.

"Like I said earlier—" explained Yune excitedly, "—there have been multiple upgrades to the suit's inner and outer structure. The first and most important being the introduction of a flight suit."

Danny had pulled on the awkward suit and was more than ready to flip the switch and feel the amazing power it gave him. He still wore the Ocular glasses that gave him limited sight, allowing him to see what the doctor was talking about.

"Oh—you need the helmet for it to work properly." Yune picked the helmet up from the desk. Whisper removed the Ocular Glasses and set them on the table beside him. The scientist placed the helmet on Danny's head and clamped it firmly in place. The Doctor then switched the Accretion Device on. It was far less dramatic this time around, as the suit no longer needed to affix itself to his endocrine system. A loud humming sound sped through the suit as the Accretion Module jolted the many layers inside the armor to life. Danny felt the familiar, awesome build-up of strength charging through his muscles as the suit powered on. The helmet tapped into his ocular nerves and his vision returned. _I am Whisper once again._

He grinned inside the helmet.

Yune made a few adjustments, talking as he worked, "You control the flight suit like any other device. Just hold out your arms like so." Yune held out his arms in a full T-shape. Danny did as he was asked. As he held out his arms, a fan of web-like fabric folded out from the suit's arms, legs and torso.

"Very cute Doctor," rasped Danny sarcastically.

"Trust me, Danny, it really works! The webbing, in essence, acts as a patagium—a membranous extension of the suit that creates an artificial parachute. It is the same principle as a flying squirrel."

"Has it ever been tested Doctor?"

"Well yes, at about two-hundred feet."

"And how high will I be jumping?"

"About thirty thousand feet."

Whisper scoffed inside the helmet. _That figures._

"Trust me, Danny, it is a sound principle. You will be able to freefall nearly fifteen thousand feet and extend the patagium even at terminal velocity. It really will work!"

"Is there some sort of backup? A parachute or something?"

"No. Why would you need a parachute when we have a patagium?" The scientist responded so matter-of-factly, it seemed as though the thought had never entered his mind.

"Perfect. What else did you add to the suit," asked Danny, trying to take his mind off the suicide webbing.

"Well, I adjusted two important elements in the suit's offensive capabilities. The first is in your wrists. Clench your fists tightly, holding your arms away from you and think the word _'extend'._ "

Danny once again did as he was told. _'Extend'_ he thought. With a speed that surprised the Canadian, two-foot long blades shot out from each wrist.

"They are Damascus-steel combat blades, tapered with titanium. The blades are held within the suit's arms and are usable for stealth or hand-to-hand combat."

Whisper looked at each blade in turn. _Useful. Very useful._

"How do I sheath them?" he asked the scientist.

"Just relax your grip and think the word ' _Sheath'_."

Whisper did so. The blades retracted back into the arms. "Outstanding. What's the second addition?"

"Colonel Walsh already mentioned it," said Yune, puffing out his chest. "I finally got the Whisper Shroud to work. Activate it using your wrist control."

Danny fiddled with the control for a moment. Yune talked while Danny fiddled with the device, "The shroud only works at full efficiency at night or in dark areas. But when it's working, you will be a shadow to your enemies."

As Danny worked with the device, Walsh walked back up the ramp, flanked by his technicians, "We're going to get underway soon Doc. How's it going?"

"Whisper is almost ready, Colonel."

"Have you tested the Shroud yet?"

Yune turned back to mind his patient, "We were just about to now, sir!"

Whisper finally found the right key combination and activated the shroud. The heads-up-display abruptly changed color, to a teal blue. " _Activating Stealth Mode_ " warbled the suit's computer voice in his ear.

"Did it work?" asked Danny, not able to see the effect of the shroud.

Yune grinned happily. Walsh nodded in admiration. The suit had instantly gone from visible to nearly-invisible. Walsh asked one of the techs to dim the C-17's lights so they could see the extent of the shroud's capability. Whisper vanished almost completely when the lights went down to half strength.

"Amazing," said Walsh, looking at the seat where Danny sat.

"I'm actually behind you sir," Whisper's trademark raspy voice spoke in Walsh's ear, making the Colonel start.

"Nice trick, Corporal," said Walsh, "A resounding success, Doc." The Colonel clapped Yune on the arm in gratitude and then signaled for his men to start wrapping it up for takeoff. "We're ready to head out. Close this baby up. It's time to get this here mission underway!"

* * *

JOE CHECKED his watch. 2300 hours.

_Halfway there_.

They would be over the province of Kondoz by now. Isabella controlled the Black Hawk beautifully—providing a smooth ride for her passengers. Joe fished around in his pack for the OpTab and clicked it on, the soft glow illuminating his face in the dark of the cabin. Krieger looked over and suddenly remembered he had one too. He pulled out his own tablet and began going over the compiled information Walsh's team had prepared for the mission.

The tablet screen layout was similar to a smartphone, with several thumbnail icons listing the contents of the briefing. Joe pressed the thumbnail reading Landing Zone Area. In a nano-second, the screen switched to a zoomable satellite image of the general area. Joe checked the distance they would have to hustle. Nearly two kilometers—a brief jaunt for any Army Ranger. There were no buildings or settlements within twenty square miles, so it was likely they wouldn't run into anyone on their way to the fortress.

Joe looked through the OpTab's different functions for another few minutes, then switched it off. "What do you think?" he asked the Russian.

Krieger was still working with his OpTab, "With what?"

"The mission—what do you think?"

"Oh...sorry. Just found Angry Birds on here. Fun game!"

Joe shook his head, reached over, and clicked the screen reset button, spoiling the big merc's fun. "You're going to be watching my ass out there—pay attention!"

"Sorry, my friend—just making joke," Krieger said, "What is the plan?"

Joe zipped his backpack up, replacing it under the seat, "We're up for a run, about two kilometers north once we hit the LZ."

Krieger nodded, "Better keep up with me. Lots of Centurions to kill and only so much time."

"You remember the briefing—no shooting until—"

"—Until we have planted bombs, I remember. Take all the fun out of life." Krieger tossed his tablet back in his rucksack, then leaned back in his seat. They still had a good hour or so before they reached the LZ. Joe had thought about taking a nap, but the hum of the Black Hawk would keep him awake. Besides, there was a better than average chance he would die on this op. Plenty of time to sleep in the grave.

A short time passed. Brick, sitting opposite the two companions, keyed commands into his OpTab, looking up now and then to glance out the helicopter window. Joe eyed the man for a minute. He was a hard one to get a bead on, that was for sure. Joe hoped he could trust the enigmatic Brit, especially if he was the one with the finger on the C9.

To take his mind off of their grumpy companion, Joe turned towards Krieger and asked, "Any thoughts about this...Code thing?"

"What do you mean?" replied the big Russian.

"I mean do you have any idea what it is, what it does?"

"Not really, my friend. I never even heard the word mentioned while I was in that prison. Only thought they used fort to stage attacks on nearby Afghanistan villages."

Joe thought carefully for a moment, "Whisper had mentioned something about the computer monitors displaying odd nonsense historical data as if it was compiling research."

Krieger frowned, "Research...on history of war? Why?"

Joe shrugged, "No clue. Maybe to compile a computer virus, as Yune seems to think. I don't know. It's not my area of expertise. Danny said most of the computer info was so specific, it was practically gibberish."

Krieger nodded, "I have little use for such things. Computers and tech people annoy hell out of me."

Joe figured as much. Krieger seemed more at home blazing away with an AK-47 or sticking a knife in a guy's ear. Still, Joe had to admit he was glad for the Russian's company. The burly ex-PMC soldier had more than proven himself during the jailbreak and it was good to have a friendly face on the first op for this new unit.

Even if that face annoyed the hell out of him sometimes.

Joe's gaze moved to rest on the silent SAS operator sitting across from them. Brick's sea-blue eyes gleamed with intelligence and seemed to reflect the dim cabin lighting in such a way it sent a chill up Joe's back. The man had the look of someone who'd sacrificed much in the line of duty—a man with his own closet of skeletons locked away in his bedroom of memories.

Joe gathered up some courage and posed the SAS soldier a question, "So, Sergeant Reynolds, do you know anything about this Code?"

Brick was silent for a brief moment before answering. The man seemed to love awkward pauses. "Well mate, I'll tell you something. I've been with the Colonel for a year now fighting these assholes and I only know one thing about them for sure..."

Krieger raised his eyebrows. "Yeah? What is that?"

"You can't stop the Code."

The cryptic statement seemed to weigh down the entire chopper. Joe had no idea what it meant and it appeared that Brick would tell them when he was damn good and ready.

Joe changed the subject, "Alright, Sergeant; how did the Colonel rope you into this little club?"

Brick waited a brief moment to respond, long enough for it to get uncomfortable, "Same basic story as you mate, bad luck."

"Just bad luck?"

"Found myself in a large spot of trouble about a year back. The Colonel helped me out—pointed me at the ones who wronged me and _BANG!_ " he said the word with such force that it made Joe start, "Here I am, ferrying you cowboys into a hostile country to attack a force that'll no doubt have us for breakfast."

Krieger grimaced, "I don't like cowboys—horses make me sneeze."

Brick ignored the offhand comment, keeping his eyes on Joe, "I must admit, your escape from fortress Bellum was mighty impressive."

Joe grinned, thinking he finally was getting somewhere the stoic Brit, "Well, thanks."

Brick smirked back, "Impressive that you two yahoos didn't get blown to pieces in the first minute. From what I can tell it was Dr. Yune's suit and Corporal Callbeck what kept you from becoming permanent residents of that place, right?"

Krieger had been getting steadily angrier as Brick spoke. Joe held up a hand to restrain the big man, saying to the Brit in a measured voice, "We owe Whisper... _Danny_ , our lives, it's true. But getting out of that hellhole took all of us. Krieger, Yune, and Danny and myself—we all pulled our weight."

Krieger nodded irritably. "That is right! You should have seen it! I grab Dushka MG and blow fifty Olympus troopers straight to hell! Blood everywhere. It was OWW!" Krieger cried out in pain as Joe elbowed the Russian in the ribs.

Brick shook his head in amazement. "Like I said, Sergeant Braddock. If you boys don't get blown away on this op, I'll eat my hat."

Joe grinned, "I'll bring the mustard."

* * *

UP ABOVE the Afghan province of Kondoz, the C-17 Globemaster, codenamed _Barbarian_ roared towards its rendezvous. In the technician area of the plane, Doctor Yune had taken his place at his work area. A large plethora of computer monitors and CPUs interconnected to form a large workspace spread out in front of him, giving the brilliant scientist complete control over the operation. Yune stretched his sore back, snapping his fingers to relieve the tension before the mission would begin.

In the loading bay opposite to the room Yune sat in, Whisper waited—sitting in a folding chair attached to the fuselage of the aircraft. The bay would be pressurized in a few minutes when the mission was given a go by Colonel Walsh. Whisper looked at the HUD inside the helmet for the time: 23:57 _._

_Soon now_.

Across the loading bay from him sat Colonel Walsh. The old soldier had decided he didn't like the stuffiness of the computer area and wanted a place to smoke a cigarette.

Whisper felt slightly uncomfortable. Here he was kitted out with probably the world's most advanced suit of power armor, and he was getting nervous being in the presence of an old military warhorse. But Danny had to admit—there was something rather extraordinary about Walsh he couldn't put his finger on. The man seemed to exude confidence and strength, but there was an air of sadness around the Colonel. Occasionally Walsh would lose himself in thought for minutes at a time before he jolted back to reality. Whisper could only wonder what a man like this had seen in his fifty-odd years of continuous combat.

Whisper summoned up some courage and asked the Colonel, "Excuse me, sir, is there something?"

Walsh looked at Whisper and then at his hand. The cigarette he'd been holding had burned itself down to a two-inch chunk of ash. Walsh smirked, tossing the smoke to the floor, "Fine Corporal. Just a lot on my mind."

The Colonel stood up, stretching his legs. Walking over, he leaned against the partition wall between the cargo bay and the computer lab.

"I suppose now's as good a time as any to tell you about one last parameter to your mission."

Whisper was surprised. _What_ other parameter _?_

Walsh continued, "You know Sergeant Braddock is hell-bent on retrieving his men." It was more of a statement than a question.

Whisper nodded, "Yes sir. It means everything to him."

The Colonel reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarette case, tossing a fresh Camel in his mouth. "Well, the second Code disc is of absolute unparalleled importance. So you understand, this mission must not, I repeat, _not_ be compromised."

Danny was getting a bad feeling about this. "What are you saying, sir?"

The Colonel lit his cigarette with his Ronson lighter, holding a hand over it to help the flame. "I'm saying nothing, Corporal. I'm not saying that if Sergeant Braddock should jeopardize the mission in any way that he and his companion Krieger if need be, shall become liabilities."

Danny's heart began to thump in his chest.

Walsh went on, his voice becoming low and matter-of-factly, "You and I both know that Sergeant Braddock is blindly loyal to his men. He would make saving them his number one priority, no matter what his orders were."

Whisper couldn't stand the charade any longer. He stood up and stared straight into Walsh's face, the beetle-like helmet reflecting the Colonel's visage back to him.

"You are asking me to kill my friend, Colonel."

"No, Corporal. I'm asking you to listen to reason. Things may go just fine down there, and all of this will be like wind in a meadow. But..." The Colonel broke the tension, turned around and walked over to the door, "I need to have someone there I can rely on. A man of honor who will not put the lives of countless millions in balance for the behest of one man."

He took one last puff of his cig before throwing it away as well.

"So, Corporal...Can I count on you?" asked Walsh, not really expecting an answer.

Danny Callbeck felt as if the world was moving in around him; his own life suddenly felt small and meaningless.

Joe is like a brother...

_I could_ never...

"You can count on me to follow my orders, Colonel," said Danny, his voice sounding far away inside the helmet.

Walsh gave the armored Canadian one last nod before opening the door. "I just want you to remember that there are things in this world far greater than any one man. It requires a strong heart to do what's right for the many."

And with that, Walsh disappeared into the computer room of the C-17, leaving Whisper to wait in silence before his drop into Kazinistan.

### Chapter 18

Flying Squirrel

IT WAS closing in on 00:05, by Joe's watch. He hefted his M4A1, checked the breech and safety, and kept the weapon at the ready. Krieger followed suit, making sure his MP5 was primed for action. Brick tossed them two canisters of dark camo paint.

"Might want to use some of that, boys."

The two men applied the camouflage in thick lines across their faces. From the cockpit, Isabella used the in-cabin mike to call back to them, "We're five minutes from the LZ. Get your asses in gear and get ready!"

Krieger made a mock salute, "Yes sir!"

Joe strapped on his backpack and prepared for the landing—gripping the safety handle above the helicopter's side door. Brick picked up his own OpTab and entered several quick commands.

"What are you looking for?" asked Joe.

"Checkin' the terrain for radar contact," replied Brick. He was quiet for a minute while observing the screen. "We're in luck. All of their aircraft must be grounded for the night. We've got nothing in a twenty-kilometer radius."

"And there's no way they can detect us?"

Brick shook his head, "Not unless they've invented a technology capable of beating the CIA's toughest stealth equipment."

That statement did little to calm Joe's mind. He had seen the tech Olympus had. Primitive it was not.

Isabella's voice came over the intercom, _"We're coming up on the LZ. T-minus twenty seconds."_

Joe pulled the night vision goggles over his face and gave Krieger a thumbs up 'ready to go' signal. Krieger did the same, following his leader's example. The Black Hawk decelerated and began its descent towards the Kazinistani plateau beneath them.

Brick nodded to two men, "Good luck boys, we'll meet you at the fortress in two hours."

Krieger yelled a reply, "Don't be late, _tovarisch_!"

The Black Hawk landed with a soft thud, the massive rotors kicking up the sand of the plateau into a torrent of chaotic dust. Brick slid open the side door and Joe and Krieger jumped out and hauled ass away from the beating-helicopter rotors. After they were fifty feet away, Joe turned and waved to signal they were clear. Inside the bird, Brick made a gesture to Isabella and the helicopter began to rise. It banked to the southwest and gained speed until it was out of sight.

"Let's get to it," said Joe. He removed the OpTab and checked the localized GPS. They were almost exactly where the LZ had been marked. Isabella was a pro alright. Joe checked their current heading and pointed to relative north.

Krieger removed the night vision goggles for a moment. He fished around in his backpack for his pair of high-intensity binoculars and held them up to his face, scanning the plateau. The binoculars were also infrared, allowing a perfect view of the area.

"I think I see fortress, my friend."

Joe followed suit, holding up his binoculars. The Russian hadn't been wrong. According to the binoculars' range calculator, it was about two and a half clicks to the south wall where they would be climbing. They were too far below the fortress to see any life on the base. He shoved the binoculars back into the pack and hoisted the heavy kit onto his back.

_Time to start_ hoofin' _it._

* * *

NEARLY THIRTY-THREE thousand feet in the air above Kazinistan, Whisper stood at the cargo ramp of the C-17, awaiting the green light to make his descent. As he stood, resolute and unmoving like a cold statue of granite, Whisper's mind was filled with uncertainty.

I need someone I can rely on...

The Colonel's words repeated endlessly in Danny Callbeck's head.

What if Joe does end up putting the safety of his men before the Code? Will I be able to...

Danny closed his sightless eyes tight inside the suit. It did nothing, as he could still see through the ocular implants beaming the electromagnetic information straight into his brain.

The Code could lay Olympus's plan bare. It would be a terrific gain.

But what if Walsh was wrong? What if the disc was just another piece of an endless puzzle? There were so many ifs and buts, Whisper couldn't keep them straight in his head.

You are still Joint Task Force 2, Danny Callbeck. You are elite—the best your country has. Deal with this when the time comes. Focus on the mission.

He repeated the last sentence quietly out loud. His rage began to cool and he focused his thoughts. Almost at the same time, the HUD in the suit's helmet displayed an incoming message. A small image of Yune's face appeared in the lower corner of the helmet's display.

"We are almost ready for mission start, Whisper. T-minus one minute and counting."

Whisper nodded, "I read you, Doctor."

Yune sensed Danny's trepidation of the coming jump, "Trust me, it will be easier than any HALO jump you have ever attempted. All I can tell you is to trust the suit."

Whisper hated hearing Yune say that.

The overhead lights switched from Red for STOP to Green for GO. The ramp began to lower. The temperature dropped several degrees instantly as the cold air in the atmosphere entered the bay. The country of Kazinistan stretched out below him—the Pamir Mountains stretching as far as Danny could see.

Yune's voice blared in Whisper's ear, "Alright Whisper, T-minus 10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1, jumper away!"

Danny grit his teeth and took a running leap out the back of the plane. A feeling of temporary weightlessness obscured the fact he was accelerating at a rate of fall nearly one-hundred and twenty miles per hour. Then, the powerful force of gravity caught up with his stomach as he was hurled down like a meteor. He tilted his body to face directly down. The HUD of the Whisper suit calculated his rate of descent and the exact distance from the ground.

"Alright, Doctor, when do I release the Patagium?"

The image of Yune in the heads-up-display crossed his arms, "Activate the wingsuit at ten-thousand feet. No higher."

Whisper held his breath. Skydiving was nothing new to him—he had leaped from planes during LALO and HAHO ops, so the feeling of heading towards the earth at terminal velocity was like riding a bike to him. But having to put his life in something that Doctor Yune barely had a chance to test was disconcerting, to put it mildly.

The altimeter on his HUD continued to click down furiously. 20,000...19,500...19,000. _Christ, he was falling fast!_

"Doctor, you haven't been holding out on me, have you? This IS going to work, right?"

"What is it that we say, Danny?" Yune reminded his test dummy.

Danny snorted, "Trust the suit."

12,000...11,500...11,000

Hell with it, I'm hitting it now!

Whisper activated the patagium.

Nothing.

Are you kidding me?

"Yune, it's not working! What do I do now?"

The Doctor's voice came back, quite calm, "It's because you tried to open it above ten-thousand feet, Mister Callbeck. Try it now."

As the altimeter passed 10,000 feet, Whisper clicked the control again. Immediately the flight suit activated. The fabric membranes of the suit unfurled like a kite. Danny held his arms out and immediately the patagium caught the air and he felt a crushing blow of inertia as the suit slowed its descent drastically.

_Good_. He'd avoided being liquefied on the ground for the moment.

The patagium was difficult to control at first, but Whisper worked at it a bit and managed to find a decent feel for the controls. The HUD focused on the fortress, coming up quickly ahead of him.

Yune appeared quite happy in his small HUD window, "Good, the suit is showing a near-perfect trajectory. Just stay on your current path and you will reach the top of the fortress in less than ten minutes."

"What do I do when I reach it?"

"First, activate the Whisper Shroud. Then, once you are within five-hundred feet, catch as much wind as you can to slow your descent. The suit's compensators will soften the landing to an almost negligible degree."

_Negligible degree_. In Yune speak that probably meant bone crushingly hard.

5,000 feet to destination...

4,700 feet to destination...

Joe, Krieger—you two had better be ready!

* * *

THE PAST kilometer and a half had been a fast run in the park for Krieger and Joe. Finally, out of breath, they stopped and crouched behind a rocky outcropping in the craggy plateau at the base of the fortress. Joe increased the night vision's intensity, squinting to get a better view of the area in front of them. Through the goggles, they could finally see Fortress Liberatio. Perched on top of the four hundred-odd foot mountain, it was smaller than Fortress _Bellum_. However, their only method of entrance was straight up the south cliff-face. As Joe scanned the cliff, he could tell it would be a challenging, though not impossible climb. The Fortress sat atop the mountain like a cold reminder of the place Joe and Krieger had escaped from only a week earlier.

And here they were trying to break back into another one.

Joe moved the night vision down towards the area near the mountain, searching for enemy movement. As he adjusted the goggles, a familiar sound rose from around the mountainside: the high pitched wail of a personal jet engine. Joe pulled Krieger down roughly behind the crags, his eyes searching the sky for the flying bogies.

He spotted them—three Olympus Hastati jetpack troopers, flying in a perimeter guard around the mountain. Their jet engines hummed angrily as they spun around the mountain, no doubt searching the countryside beyond with the infrared sensors in their helmets.

As the three troopers disappeared around the opposite side of the mountain, Joe let Krieger up and unshouldered his backpack.

"What is plan now my friend?" asked Krieger, following suit.

"Get your pickaxes out. We're going up that mountain right now."

Krieger rummaged through his pack and pulled out the experimental pickaxes. He pressed the small ignition button on the handle. Instantly the tip of ax lit up white-hot.

Krieger chuckled, "Nice. Let's go. Living is over-rated anyway."

Slinging their weapons around their backs, Joe and Krieger bolted towards the mountainside, running with all their might. Joe had no idea when the Hastati troopers would return and he wasn't going to sit around waiting for them.

They reached the mountain and immediately began to climb. Joe held the pickaxe out and—after taking a deep breath and half closing his eyes—clicked the ignite button. Joe slammed the ax into the rock face, releasing the button as he did. The ax embedded itself up to the handle. Joe tried to wriggle the ax free but it held tight.

Way to go Yune, these things actually work!

Joe pulled down on the ax handle and lifted himself up. Igniting the second ax, he drove it higher up on the cliff. He had to press the button on the first ax again to dislodge it from the rock. It came free like a knife slicing butter. He dug his boots into the mountain and began the arduous task of pulling himself up the cliff.

Krieger had watched Joe from below, not wishing to be the first one to have a new invention blow up in his face. Once satisfied that Joe was safely on his way up the mountainside, Krieger took a deep breath and engaged his climbing axes. Making sure the penetrating tools would support his weight, the big merc pulled himself up and followed closely after Joe.

A voice blurted over the comm attached to Joe's ear. It was Whisper's ragged voice, sounding a bit more haggard than usual. _"Joe,_ come _in—it's Whisper."_

"I'm receiving, Whisper, go ahead." Joe kept his voice low. He had no clue how far his voice carried in this mountainous area.

Whisper's voice spoke quickly, " _I'm coming in on the fortress as we speak, ETA five minutes_."

Joe looked up the cliff, holding onto the axes for dear life. He still had about two-hundred feet to go. If they hustled, they might get up in another ten minutes.

"We're on our way right now, Whisper. Good luck with your infiltration. Everything will be ready by the time you extract. Trust me."

" _Joe..."_ Whisper sounded like he was going to ask another question, but his voice faltered.

"What?"

" _...Nothing. Good luck. See you when it's over, out."_

Joe nodded to himself, "Right." He looked down at Krieger, who was lagging by about twenty feet. "Hustle it up man!" Joe called down as softly as he could.

They continued climbing uninterrupted for another seven minutes when the familiar jet sound echoed from around the mountain.

The Hastati!

Joe looked down at his comrade, "They're coming back!"

The two men killed their movement, leaning against the cliff wall as tightly as possible. It was still quite dark, and the moon had mercifully disappeared behind a thick patch of clouds.

The Hastati slowed their packs as they hovered; sweeping their gaze around the mountain range.

Come on, just keep moving...

Joe grit his teeth and sucked in his breath as he prayed to whatever god or pagan deity that was listening to please let these flying goons pass them by.

* * *

ETA to Destination Rooftop - One Minute

The message flashed across the HUD of the Whisper suit as Danny closed in on Fortress Liberatio. His descent was going well so far, with all systems go inside the armor. A buffet of wind sheared him momentarily off course, pushing him down several hundred feet far sooner than he wanted to. He pulled his body back as hard as he could, trying to grasp as much wind as possible to pull himself up before he plowed into the cliff-face.

He was in viewing range of the top of the fortress now. He switched to infrared and scanned the fortress for sentries. The suit registered seven hostiles. He magnified their respective images within the HUD. They were all Centurions—heavily armed with either XM8 Carbines or the new Russian AK-12 Kalashnikov, the most up-to-date revision of the classic AK series.

Whisper took a deep breath. If these jerks heard his arrival, things would go south from there right quick.

Yune's face appeared in the HUD, replacing the images of the troopers, "Alright Whisper, you're almost there. Get ready for landing operations. The suit can effectively absorb the shock of a direct fall from fifty feet. Anything more and you risk a suit rupture, or worse, a limb break."

_Lovely_.

"Alright, Doctor, activating shroud and folding in patagium...NOW!"

Whisper deactivated the membranous flight suit as the HUD readout measured a distance of sixty-five feet from the first building at the top of the fort. He felt gravity latch onto him and force him straight down. The Heads-up-Display turned completely blue as the suit activated the Shroud. Whisper's body became instantly transparent—blending seamlessly with the starry Afghan night. He fell at a forty-five-degree arc to the building's concrete roof, landing on all fours. The suit's leg compensators soaked up the shock of the landing perfectly.

Nice.

The patagium webbing retreated inside the inner space of the suit. Whisper crouched there for a moment, staring out at the fortress that spread before him like he was a hawk searching for its next meal. Several Olympus attack helicopters sat in parked locations, as well as two _Hyperion_ VTOL aircraft. The Centurions moved throughout the base on their pre-arranged patrols, oblivious to Whisper's stealth landing. At the northern side of the fort, just as the Colonel had said, was a small concrete building with a powerful-looking steel door: the prison building.

Joe's men would be in there, all right.

Whisper keyed his comlink, "Joe, do you read?"

No answer.

"Joe, come in, over. Krieger report, over."

Nothing.

He kept the comm open, just in case, and began his infiltration. According to the blueprint he'd studied before the op, the base was laid out similar to Fortress _Bellum_. He was currently on top of the tallest building in the fortress and had a perfect view of all entries into the fortress substructure. Walsh had been certain that there would be an elevator of some sort that would lead to a similar interior like the basement of Fortress _Bellum_.

Whisper simply had to find the door.

First things first.

A sound directly below him in the yard told Whisper a Centurion was patrolling beneath his crouched position. The shroud was working well and his shimmering form could probably sneak by these fools without being noticed at all. However, if he could make things easier for Joe and Krieger, he would. To the right of where he was crouched were a row of trucks and Humvees, sitting forgotten and unused. The Centurion guard was moving slowly towards the vehicles, his head scanning side to side as he carried out his nightly patrol.

Whisper formed a quick plan. As soon as the Centurion below him had moved amongst the parked trucks, he leaped down from the roof and softly padded towards the backside of his enemy. Leaping up like a lion attacking a wildebeest, he grabbed the trooper across the face with an invisible arm. Whisper then jammed his opposite hand into the small of the Centurion's back and engaged the wrist-gauntlet blade. Shooting out with remarkable force, the spring-mounted weapon sliced neatly through the trooper's armor, skewering him like a giblet.

The trooper shuddered for a brief second, then went limp. Whisper quietly lowered the body to the ground. Gripping the dead Centurion under the arms, he dumped the corpse underneath one of the nearby trucks, shoving it roughly out of sight.

With one trooper neatly disposed of, Whisper needed to get inside the base ASAP. As he plotted the quickest way towards the central command building, he inwardly hoped Joe and Krieger were okay wherever they were.

Using the shadows to his full advantage, Whisper crept along the base perimeter towards the mundane, box-like command building in the corner of the base.

* * *

WITH ONE hand clutching the cliffside for dear life, Joe withdrew his 9mm from its holster, slowly. It would take a miracle to hit the Hastati bastards at this range, but if this was the end, he would go down fighting.

Below him, he could see Krieger hugging the rock wall—probably waiting for Joe to act first. The Hastati jet troopers were close, probably only a hundred feet away, hovering quickly on their flight packs.

Stay still...

The troopers flew closer still.

They're gonna spot us any time now.

Joe eased back the hammer of the 9mm.

Come on. Show me what you've got!

The troopers zoomed by with nary a glance their way.

Joe closed his eyes, leaning his head against the cliff in relief.

Thank Christ!

He looked down at Krieger and gestured for him to continue climbing. The Russian gave a thumbs up and they continued on their way.

Joe keyed his comlink. "Whisper, this is Joe—we're on our way. ETA approximately five minutes. Can you hold out?"

Danny's quiet voice, filtered through the helmet's speaking module, came back, _"One enemy trooper has been taken down, and six Centurions remain at sentry positions in the main yard. I'm entering the operations building right now, over_."

Joe gouged his pickaxe into the cliff, talking while he climbed, "Copy that. Good luck, Danny!"

Krieger called up to Joe as softly as he dared, "Comrade, are things good with your Inuit friend?"

"He's fine," Joe answered, gingerly checking for a better grip, "We're almost at the top. Keep climbing!"

The two men picked up their pace. The top of the fortress wall was in sight.

Almost there...not long now.

* * *

WHISPER SNUCK silently through the assorted equipment crates and parked vehicles, as he made his way to the central complex. Inside would have to contain an elevator or stairway or something to reach the lower levels with. It was an educated guess that the Code was located in a similar mainframe room as in the first fortress. It was a gamble, but so far their luck had held and it was worth the risk.

Two Centurions guarded the main entrance, standing to attention at either side of the building's main entryway. They would notice the shimmer the Whisper Shroud created if he tried to sneak between them. He could probably take both men down without too much effort, but hiding the bodies would waste valuable time he didn't have.

Whisper checked the ground at his feet and saw a small metal washer. Picking it up, he was about to throw it amongst a collection of barrels off to the side to get the guard's attention, when the loud rushing noise of an engine echoed from above. Whisper ducked back among the trucks, keeping low. A _Hyperion_ transport zoomed in over top of him—it's dark, dragonfly-like form hovered over the yard, descending to land in the middle of the fortress.

Whisper hit the comlink, "Joe, be advised we have a _Hyperion_..."

What Whisper saw come out of the _Hyperion_ made him forget his friend for the moment. Looking every bit as massive and cruel as the last time Joe had laid eyes on his gigantic form, Commander Dante walked down the gangway, and towards the main building. A large white bandage covered his right ear where Joe had bitten it off. His eyes and nose were black from the beating he'd received that day.

He's alive!

Whisper's comm warbled, Joe's voice sounding worried on the other end, " _Whisper, what's going on? Repeat, all after 'Hyperion', over_?"

"Joe, it's Commander Dante...he's alive!"

" _What? How did he survive the collapse of the prison_?"

"I've no idea." Whisper was bewildered _._ The man was hard to kill, that was for sure.

" _Never mind him—can you get inside the main complex_?"

At that second, the courtyard lights suddenly flared on. Whisper was totally exposed where he was as the shroud began shimmering uncontrollably. He had to get back into darkness.

"I've gotta go!"

Whisper dropped to the ground and rolled underneath the nearest Humvee, out of sight. He waited, his teeth set on edge, wondering if his quick movement had alerted anyone. From his low position, Whisper could see the feet belonging Dante and six or so Centurions walking with him. They were heading straight for the main complex. Whisper turned to see the two Centurions by the door march out to greet the Olympus Commander. In the meantime, the _Hyperion_ gunned its engines and lifted back up, roaring off into the sky above towards its next destination. As Dante and his entourage approached the main complex, the courtyard lights dimmed as quickly as they had turned on—drenching the area around him in comforting darkness again.

Now or never!

Whisper rolled out from under the truck as the shroud slurped up the blackness, making him appear to be nothing more than a rolling shadow blending with the inky dark. He moved closer, following the entourage.

Dante did not stop as he approached the two waiting Centurion guards, "I am going to meet our honored guest. Open the doors now!"

The guards were unsure about that command. Whisper surmised that entrance into the complex required certain protocol and Dante's arrival must have been unscheduled. The Centurions looked at each other for a brief second, before common sense prevailed. The guard on the left gave a quick salute, then ran towards the door to key in the unlock code. Whisper activated the helmet magnification and zoomed the HUD to watch the trooper's finger falls as he input the passcode into the alpha-numeric keypad.

4-2-1-1-6-6-5.

_Easy enough._ The real security must be inside.

"You—" Dante pointed at the other Centurion guard, "—come with me." The giant and his entourage moved to the door. Before he went through, he looked at the other trooper, menacingly. " _You_ stay here."

The Olympus Commander and the remaining Centurions moved through the door one by one.

This was it. Go!

As the door closed with a solid click, Whisper bolted towards the last trooper. Moving with incredible speed, Whisper covered the twenty feet of distance between him and the Centurion in less than two seconds. The Centurion barely had time to blink before Whisper jammed the Damascus steel blade through his visor, slicing into the trooper's brain like a ripe melon.

Whisper pulled the blade free and gripped the lifeless body as he looked for a place to stow it. He swiftly hauled the hapless trooper behind the building. A guardrail separated the fortress inhabitants from the sheer four-hundred-foot drop. Whisper hoisted the guard up and tossed him over the side of the rail like he a bag of old socks.

He raced back to the door, keeping an eye out for any unwanted guests, and keyed in the key combination. The door snapped open and he disappeared inside.

### Chapter 19

Delivering the Smackdown

" _I'm inside the complex_ ," said Whisper through Joe Braddock's comlink.

"Good going, bud," answered the Ranger. "We're almost at the top. Did you get a good look at my men?"

" _No, but the prison building is on the north end of the compound, just as the Colonel said. I've taken care of two guards so far. You'll probably have to take the rest_ out yourself—quietly _before they find out the others are missing_."

"How many are left in the courtyard?" asked Joe.

" _Only three now. The rest are inside with Commander Dante_."

"Copy that. Find that Code and we can get the hell out of here!"

" _Copy, out."_

Joe clicked the comm off. They were only a few yards from the guardrail. He tried not to look down—the sight of a four-hundred-foot drop probably wouldn't sit well with him right now. The cliff began to incline less sharply now and they did not need the pickaxes anymore. Joe holstered them in his belt. _Handy little suckers._

Krieger knelt on the perpendicular cliff, beside his companion. The two men crept up to the ledge and peered into the courtyard. Their night vision goggles showed that there were indeed three troopers left. Joe moved his gaze to the building at the far side of the compound. Sitting like a forgotten eyesore amidst the rest of the fortress structures was the prison holding his boys.

Time to take care of business.

"Take out the guards first," Joe said to his comrade. "You take the fool at the east end, I've got the two straight ahead. Got it?"

Krieger nodded, glad finally to have some action, " _Dah,_ my friend, try to stay alive, yah?"

The two soldiers pulled themselves up and leaped over the guardrail, going their separate ways through the compound. Joe's first man was dead ahead, about forty-odd feet away. The armored Centurion had stopped for a moment, stretching in his armor.

As good _a time as any._

Joe raised his M4A1. Sighting through the laser scope, he squeezed the trigger. A tuft of compressed air spurt from the suppressor as the bullet propelled towards its target. The armor-piercing round caught the trooper perfectly in the visor, dropping him without a sound. Joe eased his way forward, eyes on the next trooper, who was patrolling near the prison building. He risked a glance east and spotted Krieger approaching his enemy, climbing ax in hand. Joe dived down into the shadow of a HIND-E helicopter and watched Krieger do his thing.

The Russian stayed low, approaching his enemy like a panther. As he approached, something alerted the guard and he spun around just in time to receive a molten hot slab of iron through the helmet. The trooper dangled like a minnow on a hook for a brief second before Krieger yanked the tool out. The Centurion crumpled to the ground, a waft of smoke rising from the blackened hole in his helmet.

Satisfied, the Russian lifted the trooper and tossed him over the guardrail.

Joe sighed and checked the remaining bogie. The trooper's back was to Joe.

Good. I've got a minute.

Joe removed his two C9 charges from his pack. He slapped one onto the ground underneath the HIND-E and twisted the 'ARM' switch on the detpack. The small red lights on the charge started to flicker as the device went live.

One down, one to go.

He would set the last one near the center of the yard. Krieger would see one at his end, and another near the center to ensure a massive detonation.

Joe eased his way out of his hiding place and moved towards the last Centurion, still using the vehicles as cover. No point taking unnecessary risks. When he was thirty feet from the prison building, he dropped to one knee behind a parked Olympus Humvee and armed the second charge. He stuck it to the ground underneath the truck.

Charges good to go. Now to get my guys.

In his peripheral vision, Joe saw Krieger setting his first charge. One more and they would be ready for business.

Joe keyed his comlink. "Sergeant Reynolds, this is Sergeant Braddock, do you read?"

Brick's cockney accent came through over the comm, " _Go ahead,_ Sergeant _Braddock_."

"Start up the bird, we're going to be ready for extract in five minutes approximate, over."

" _Do you have the Code, Sergeant_?"

"Whisper's on it right now," answered Joe. "Be careful, there are three Hastati jet troopers out there somewhere."

" _Copy that, we'll be ready."_

Joe turned the comlink off just as Krieger ran up to join him.

"Charges set. We are ready to go!"

Joe's heart hammered in his chest. _So close now._

* * *

FIVE MINUTES earlier, as Joe and Krieger were just about to climb over the wall, Whisper had entered the main fortress complex. It was a similar configuration to Fortress _Bellum_ , but far more modern—with steel-constructed corridors and grated flooring. Whisper followed Dante's entourage as they made their way through the narrow passages of the base, keeping in the shadows whenever possible.

He had decided to alter the plan. Dante's sudden appearance was something no one had counted on and Whisper was sure the giant was here solely for the Code. He'd follow the goon and when the time was right, end the sonovabitch like the rat bastard he was. Then he could take the disc at his leisure. After a few tense minutes of tailing, Dante reached his destination: a nondescript door at the end of the hall. Dante ordered four of the Centurions to stay in the corridor as he entered the room beyond. The remaining two Centurions disappeared down the hallway beyond.

The Canadian watched the remaining guards take positions around the door: two standing beside the door frame and the other two positioning themselves on the opposite side, facing their comrades.

Whisper was almost beside himself. The fools couldn't have made it easier for him if he wanted them to. The hallway was starkly lit—with only a few rustic fluorescent lights hanging overhead. He would only have a fraction of a second to take down the troopers before they noticed him.

Stop thinking about it and act soldier.

Whisper crept slowly forward, using the shadows of the hallway. The Centurions remained silent, like well-regimented soldiers standing at attention.

Closer...just a little closer.

He dropped down into a nearly prone position and made his way on all fours like a creeping lizard. He was almost in place, directly below the four troopers.

NOW!

He jumped to his feet and ejected the dual spring-propelled blades into the faceplates of the two guards facing the door. Pulling the blades free he swiveled around in an elaborate one-eighty to face the two remaining Centurions. They were so stunned at the sight of their comrades lurching in sudden death from this bizarre mass of shadows that had seemingly come to life that they could do nothing for a solid second.

All the time I need.

Whisper drove both blades through each respective trooper's helmets like scissors through fabric. They didn't even have time to unsling their weapons.

Danny allowed himself a brief moment of self-satisfaction.

Damn I love this suit.

After he was certain the Centurions were dead, he let the bodies slowly fall to the floor. He cleared the doorway just in case he'd been heard. The door was heavy steel and should have muffled the sound of the fight.

After the rush of his attack had worn away, Whisper leaned against the door to listen. It was too thick to hear anything directly.

Whisper activated his comlink to Doctor Yune. The Doctor's face flipped on in the HUD.

"Doctor, I need to see inside this room. Is there any way I can?"

" _Activate the suit's Thermal Signature Recognition. It will present everything within a hundred feet in heat-sensitive outlines. Just think the acronym TSR._ "

Whisper followed the doctor's directions and the HUD shifted to a radically different look. Everything in the hallway turned a pastel blue color, except the corpses on the floor—they retained a dark red color.

The doctor continued talking while Whisper acclimated himself with the new enhancement, " _Corpses will appear a dark red until their body heat falls below room temperature. All other living organisms will register a fiery red color. Is it working, Corporal Callbeck?_ "

Whisper looked at the door and saw three figures inside. One giant blob of red, which had to be Dante, and two other normal human-sized shapes, "Not bad, but how do I listen through heavy structures like this door?"

" _Just increase the volume sensitivity. I haven't had time to implement anything for specific volume direction increases."_

"Fair enough. Thanks, Doctor."

Whisper did as he was asked. The volume of his immediate area increased. He could hear everything: the sound of the fluorescent lights humming, the squeak of rats a few rooms down, even the hum of the electricity flowing in the wires in the wall. It was painful on his eardrums and not something he planned to listen to for long.

As he listened, a voice inside the room Whisper did not recognize was speaking in a heavy Middle Eastern dialect. The man sounded mad about something.

"...and if Olympus is going to keep its contract, Mr. Dante, you shall explain to me how you managed to lose one of the largest military fortresses my country had. Do you have any idea how much we spent upgrading that location?"

"Sadly no, Mr. President."

"Well it was no small amount, I assure you. I've sunk every dollar I have in bringing you and your men into my country and for what? You were supposed to deal with those Rangers...make a statement that my country will not tolerate the Taliban infiltrators and Western infidels. And what did you do? Destroy my compound with only five useless Americans to show for it!"

Dante's large frame stood perfectly still, not budging as he was berated by his much smaller companion.

"Well, Commander? What have you to say for yourself? Or should I call your beloved Imperator up and tell him how I think Olympus has failed in every way to honor its contract?"

Dante was silent for another moment. Then his booming voice broke the silence, "I will tell you what I shall do, Mr. President. Because your country has been so good to Olympus—"

Abruptly, the giant blob of thermal heat reached forward and grabbed the president by the neck.

"—we will be taking it for ourselves!"

The other glob of thermal heat tried to draw something from its torso. _Probably a gun_ , thought Whisper. Dante reached over with his free hand and smacked the weapon away. The unarmed foe attempted to resist the giant, but Dante simply grabbed hold of the man's neck and snapped it like a twig.

Dante dropped the corpse of the government bodyguard to the floor. "Thank you for all you have given Olympus, President Karimov, we will be taking things from here. I wish to thank you personally for allowing us to finish our little experiment. Truly, without your backing, I wouldn't have this now."

The giant pulled something from his coat and held it up. Whisper couldn't make it out as whatever it was gave off no heat to register on the HUD.

Dante continued to speak to the man held tight in his grasp. "As you were saying, my 'beloved' Imperator will indeed be glad to hear the news that you aided us so well in creating our Code."

He has the Code!

Danny's mind raced. _They've_ _already finished it. I can grab it right here._

Inside the room, the President was choking under Dante's vice-like grip. "Oh you don't know what this is, do you? Don't worry, it's no longer your concern."

Karamov tried to force off the massive hand but failed.

"Why Mister President, you look a little tired," The giant said, forcing the President to his knees. "I think you need to relax a bit."

The Olympus Commander moved his hand to grasp the president's head. Karamov started screaming.

"Give your mind a rest!"

With that, Dante crushed the President's head like a ripe melon. It splattered apart in pieces of fiery red blobs, as Whisper watched in amazement. Dante wiped his hand on his jacket as he replaced the disc containing the Code back into his long coat. He then held what looked like a phone to his ear and spoke quickly to the person on the other line.

"The President is taken care of. Where are you?"

The caller warbled something Whisper couldn't make out.

"What? How did they get in here...where are they now? Do I have to do everything?"

Whisper went on edge. It sounded like their cover was blown.

Get ready—you still have surprise on your side.

Dante moved around the room as if he were searching for something. He continued to talk as he looked, "...Never mind about that now—are they all there? Where is the other? The armored one? Well find him!" Dante clicked the phone off and finished his business in the office.

Whisper keyed the comlink and talked fast, "Joe, they know we're here. Get your men out now! I'll have the Code in a second." He switched off the comm before his friend could answer. Dante was almost at the door.

As the giant brute reached for the door latch, Whisper ran to the opposite side of the door and pushed himself forward like a bull. As Dante opened the office door, he was met with a full-tilt cannonball head-butt from the armored stealth soldier. The body slam knocked the massive Olympus commander off his feet, pushing him back into the room with bone-crushing force. Whisper leaned back and unsheathed the blade in his right arm. He prepared to bury the blade in Dante's face, finishing the giant for good.

But the hardened PMC commander wasn't going down that easy. With a nanosecond to spare, he whipped his hand up and grasped the blade before it could reach his skin. Blood oozed between his fingers as the blade sliced into the giant's palm. Whisper wasn't going to give the man an inch. He slammed his other fist into Dante's face—the force of which knocked the wind out of the beast's lungs for the moment. Whisper drove the steel Damascus blade straight into Dante's gut, directly through his Ryno-Hyde body armor. The Olympus commander roared in a pain-induced rage. Whisper responded by slamming another fist into his face.

The monster was down and badly hurt. Whisper fished around in Dante's jacket and found the small disc. He pulled it out and sure enough, it pretty much resembled the disc he had stolen from the first base.

Whisper leaped to his feet and bolted from the room, leaving Dante to bleed out on the floor. He raced back down the Command complex corridor towards the exit.

* * *

JOE HAD crouched down twenty feet directly behind the last Centurion in the courtyard. The bastard had parked himself between himself and the prison housing the Rangers.

Joe switched the comlink on again. "Cordova, come in."

Isabella's voice came through over the comlink, " _Go ahead, Braddock."_

"We'll be needing pickup in two minutes."

" _Copy that, two minutes, over."_

Joe glanced at Krieger. The beefy Russian grinned. Abruptly, Joe's comlink beeped an incoming call. Joe clicked it on, but Whisper had already begun talking.

" _..._ oe _they know we're here! Get your men out now! I'll have the Code in a second!"_

That was that. Olympus was onto them.

Joe aimed the M4A1 and made a slight 'coo' sound as if to imitate a bird. The Centurion whipped around and before he could bring his gun up to any usable height, Joe fired a burst from the silenced M4A1. The Centurion's head snapped back as the bullets ripped through his helmet. The trooper's corpse toppled backward to land in a cloud of dust.

Joe lowered his rifle and gestured to Krieger. "Alright, let's go. Cover me!"

Krieger nodded as he followed closely behind. They ran full out to the prison building, sweeping the area for any unforeseen tangos. Reaching the building, they split up to stand ready at both sides of the door.

Joe called out quietly, "Rangers? It's Sergeant Braddock! Are you guys there?"

A weak voice inside answered him, "Yes. Who is...is that you, Sarge?" It was Corporal Tennyson, the Ranger medic. His voice sounded broken and exhausted.

Joe's heart pounded in his chest, "Hell yes, it's me! We're getting you guys out, stay clear of the door!" He removed one of the small charges of C4 and stuck it to the door lock. It was a simple digital countdown, set for ten seconds. Krieger covered Joe as he worked, grasping the MP5 with tense fingers. In the distance, Joe heard the vague sound of gunfire and the rapidly approaching noise of helicopter rotors.

Krieger looked at Joe, inquisitively, "What was that?"

Joe finished arming the explosive, "Brick and Isabella taking out those Hastati's, hopefully."

Finishing his work, Joe gestured for Krieger to move back. The charge began counting down.

...5...4...3...2...1

With a sharp, focused explosion, the C4 blew the handle off the door. Joe moved in front of the door and smashed it open with a hard kick.

There, huddled in the dark of the small, cramped prison were his men.

Privates Johansson, Sakorsky, Peterson, Paulson, and the medic, Corporal Tennyson were all there. The battered Rangers were on their feet, awaiting their rescuers with eager looks on their haggard faces.

Private Johansson beamed a wide smile at the sight of his Sergeant, "Oh Christ, Joe, I can't believe you're here!"

Joe waved the POW's forward. "Time for that later, guys! We have about two minutes left to evac, so hustle up and get out of there! This entire place will be buzzing with Centurions in no time!"

The men rushed out of the door, save Tennyson who had to support Private Peterson. The young man was still nursing a badly broken arm.

As the men left the prison, the young Private Sakorsky spoke to Joe in a hushed voice, "We thought you'd given up on us, Sarge."

Joe smiled at the Private. "Never." He pointed at the eastern section of the fort. "We've secured the upper fortress and we have a helo coming in for dust off in—" he checked his watch, "—exactly fifty seconds. Get over to..."

Before Joe could finish, a small black device, thrown towards them from above the prison, landed amidst the group of soldiers. Joe instantly recognized it and pushed Peterson away as hard as he could, shouting, "FLASHBANG!"

The black projectile exploded in a deafening blast of white, iridescent light. Everyone in the proximity was momentarily blinded. Joe's head felt like it had been smashed with a sledgehammer. His ears were ringing and his eyesight vanished for several agonizing seconds. When his vision began to clear, the world around him spun out of control and he could hardly hear anything.

Beside him, Krieger shook his head, trying to clear his vision.

"Christ, what was that?" yelled the Russian, unable to control his voice.

Before Joe could respond, a shimmer of movement caught his eye from atop the prison building. Something that resembled a moving shadow leaped up and flew towards them with amazing athletic grace, striking Joe and Krieger simultaneously with immense force. To Joe, it felt like he had been kicked by a thousand-ton mule. He and his Russian companion flew back nearly ten feet, knocked into the dirt of the courtyard by the invisible assailant. Krieger landed hard against a parked Humvee, slumping down in a temporary daze. Joe was knocked further, landing square on his back. His M4A1 was jarred from of his hands, landing on the dirt ground seven precious feet from his prone body.

"There is no leaving here, Joe Braddock."

Joe's heart stopped as he recognized the voice. His eyes fluttered open, barely seeing straight as he tried to focus on the attacker. The figure had to be using stealth technology, similar to Whisper's suit.

"Who are—" he began to ask.

"Come on, Braddock, don't you think I leave an impression?" The voice chuckled cruelly. The invisible phantom adjusted its form and suddenly the stealth shroud dissipated.

Standing before them was Agrippina.

But...it wasn't the same woman they remembered from the APC fight.

Instead of her flaunted harlequin getup, she was now clad in a suit that resembled something out of Joe's nightmares. The suit was a rancid black leather color, with various bladed devices sticking out here and there, like a bizarre sadomasochist bodysuit. The suit clung to her body tightly, almost too tightly. The skin that showed around the parts of the suit which were not connected was heavily scarred with savage burns that were not fully healed.

But the worst thing was her face.

Agrippina's beautiful face was covered on one side by horrific scars from the burns she'd received in the _Hyperion_ crash. Her once placid alabaster skin was horribly scarred and mangled on the left side of her face, giving her the resemblance of a twisted circus freak.

Krieger looked at the woman, dumbfounded, "Mother of God..."

"God will not save you this night, scum. For what you and your friend did to me—" she spoke while walking towards Joe, her once lucid, feminine stride now resembling that of a stalking spider, "—I will deal upon you a thousand times over."

She reached behind her back and unsheathed her Parang knives. Flourishing them, Agrippina prepared to end Braddock's life.

Of to Joe's side, Krieger took the initiative. He rushed at Agrippina, who barely seemed interested in the big mercenary. Before he could connect, the woman met his attack with an effortless retort. Using the Russian's body weight against him, she launched Krieger like a shot-put into the ground ten feet beyond. He landed hard, blood spurting from his nose.

"Goddamn bitch is tough!" Krieger gasped.

The POW's had almost finished pulling themselves together after the flashbang had robbed them of their sight. It was then they saw the twisted looking harpy bearing down on their Sergeant.

Corporal Tennyson yelled to Joe, "Sarge! Don't give up!"

Joe's eyes flashed with determination. He pulled himself to his feet and charged Agrippina, judging that if he moved fast, he could catch her off-guard.

But Agrippina was more than ready for his weak attack. The woman met him with two swift slashes from her knives. The blades opened two grisly wounds: one across the chest and another on his upper leg. The wounds forced Joe to the ground. He narrowly avoided a return thrust in the back by rolling to the side.

Agrippina screamed: a withering, terrifying sound. Joe tried to get to his feet, but the pain in his leg jolted through him like a lightning bolt.

The harpy slashed Joe across the back, opening another gash across his shoulders. Bright blood poured from his wounds, mixing in with the dirt of the courtyard. The demon woman slashed again, wounding him badly with a vertical cut, just centimeters from his spine. Joe's vision was clouding as his life's blood poured from him. He sat back on his knees, awaiting the finishing blow.

That's it. That's all I've got. She's too tough.

Agrippina gripped Joe by the hair, lifting her knife in preparation to take his head.

"Die now, fool!" roared Agrippina. She raised the blade over her head, ready to take her prize.

* * *

"STOP!"

A new voice called out amidst Agrippina's triumph, pulling her attention away from Joe for a moment. She looked and saw Whisper standing twenty paces away from her. In one hand he held the Code disc and in the other, his Mantis Staff.

"You want this, don't you?" Whisper held the fragile-looking disc up in his hand to show his enemy he held all the cards, "Leave him and come get it!"

Agrippina slowly lowered the knife. Her eyes blazed with renewed life as she gazed upon her hated enemy. Whisper marveled at the change in the woman he had only met a week ago. The beautiful but deadly face he'd remembered was transformed into a hideous shadow of her former self. In her eyes, Whisper no longer saw the haughty woman who had toyed with him, like a cat with a mouse.

In her eyes, he only saw blinding hate.

"You...you almost killed me didn't you?" Agrippina said as she let Joe slump to the ground—as if he no longer mattered to her. His wounds bled out as he slumped down, not moving. Agrippina withdrew her other Parang knife and flourished them together. "You have no idea what they had to do to bring me back—to make me... _whole_ again!"

Whisper pocketed the disc back into the belt compartment of the suit.

Agrippina coughed, barely able to speak coherently, "I will rend you apart, Danny Callbeck. Are you ready for me?"

"Oh yes..." said Whisper.

Agrippina lowered her stance and charged at Whisper, screaming a high pitched wail that split the night.

The two enemies charged each other like raging bulls.

The fight was on.

### Chapter 20

We're Gonna Lose Him!

AFTER AN AGONIZING minute of gasping for air on the ground, Krieger finally remembered how to breathe. His nose was pouring blood like a sieve. Everything had gone so wrong, so fast. Whisper was engaged in combat with the Agrippina woman in a spectacular ballet of martial arts—each trying to one-up the other in an attempt to gain the upper hand. Out of the corner of Krieger's eye, he saw something emerge from the Command Complex.

The massive form of Dante had exited the building.

The giant's face was twisted in a mask of hatred and pain. The Olympus Commander wanted blood and in front of him, he saw the surviving POWs, gingerly making their way to the south end of the fortress courtyard. A cruel smile spread across the giant commander's face.

_Not going to happen you Olympus bastard_ , thought Krieger.

Overhead, Isabella's Black Hawk burst into view, hovering over the fortress. Krieger could see Brick hanging out the side, manning the swivel-mounted minigun.

_Oh_ no _you don't. This bastard is mine!_

The Russian got to his feet, his pain and wounds forgotten at the notion of getting even with the giant sonovabitch.

Dante saw the spotted him first. His face shifted to a mask of pure malice.

Krieger smiled back.

It's payback time motherfucker!

The two men charged at each other, pell-mell. They met in a brutal collision that sent them both sprawling. The Russian managed to gain the offense, rolling onto Dante's stomach. He noticed the wound in the Olympus Commander's gut.

"Too bad you are wounded, eblan!" Krieger roared, "Would have been nice to kick your ass in your prime!" The Russian landed several devastating punches to Dante's face, pulverizing what was left of his nose. The Commander howled in pain. Krieger followed through with a vicious knee to the blade wound. Krieger laughed, "Oooh, did that hurt?"

As if in answer, Dante threw his full body weight into offense. He grabbed hold of Krieger with his meaty hands and forced him into a bearhug. With his enemy unable to move, Dante stood up and charged towards the edge of the fortress like an enraged rhino. Krieger managed to look behind him before they smashed into the steel guardrail. The force of the blow squeezed most of the air from the big merc's lungs. The guardrail structure bent dangerously from the force of the two men. Another hit like that and it would break, sending them both over the edge and down four-hundred feet.

"Are you trying to kill us both?" gasped Krieger.

"If that is what it takes!" roared Dante, his eyes flaring with mindless rage.

Still clasped in the bear hug, Krieger pulled with all his might to free his arms. Dante responded by tightening his grip like a vice. Krieger was starting to blackout from the pain and lack of oxygen. Dante moved back and Krieger could tell he was going to rush the guardrail again and send them both tumbling over the cliff into the gorge below.

Enough with this!

Krieger leaned back and smashed Dante full in the face with his forehead. He felt the grip loosen for a fraction of a second. Managing to pull one arm free, he grasped one of the grenades from his belt. Yanking off the pin, Krieger shoved the live fragmentation device into Dante's screaming mouth.

"Eat that!" roared Krieger.

Dante released his grasp on the Russian as he frantically tried to pry the jammed grenade from his mouth. Krieger had managed to jam it tight, breaking several teeth at the same time. The Russian lunged to one side, rolling away from Dante's struggling form.

The Olympus Commander let out a muffled roar of defiance, a second before the grenade detonated and blew the upper half of his body to pieces in a fiery shower of gore.

Krieger looked over from his prone position as the leftover lower half of the dead commander teetered gruesomely before falling in a heap.

The big Russian grinned at his handiwork.

"Overdoing it, I suppose...but not bad."

* * *

AS ISABELLA maneuvered the helicopter over the fortress, Brick gripped the handles of the minigun. The Hastati troopers Joe mentioned in his communiqué had given the helicopter a brief tussle. But Brick—along with Isabella's outstanding piloting—had taken care of them easily with the side-mounted autocannon.

The sight that had met the two Peacemakers as they reached the fortress had been bewildering. Corporal Callbeck was battling some sort of woman masochist wielding twin swords and Krieger just blew a giant man up by sticking a grenade in his mouth.

Christ almighty, thought Brick, _if that's the weirdest thing I see today, I should count myself lucky!_

As he covered the courtyard, Brick's eye was drawn to the entrance of the Command Complex, where several Centurions started pouring out from below. They would soon be too much for the survivors down there to handle.

"Okay, Isabella luv, bring us in sideways. I'm gonna give the lads some cover!"

Isabella called back through the intercom, "Alright, hold on."

She banked the chopper to the side, giving Brick more than enough space to track a firing solution on the outpouring of troopers. He hit the trigger. Instantly, the minigun barrel spun to life, spraying the courtyard area with over four thousand rounds per minute. The Centurions were chewed apart as they tried desperately to retreat from the withering hail of autocannon fire. Beneath the hovering Black Hawk, the surviving POWs rushed forwards to meet the aircraft when it landed.

With the last of the Centurions dead, Brick readied the C9 detonator, keeping it ready to blow the explosives as soon as everyone was on board.

For the moment, Krieger and Whisper were in the clear to finish their business.

But where the hell was Joe?

* * *

JOE PULLED himself along the ground as he watched Whisper and Agrippina battle. The Olympus harpy fought with a strength born of hell itself—as if she were possessed by some demon hungering for blood of the man who wronged her in a past life. Whisper fought well but began to falter under her sadistic onslaught.

After a violent clash, the two separated for a moment, both breathing heavily. Blood seeped through several slashed areas on Whisper's suit where the ultra-sharp Parang blades had found their mark—cutting through the Kevlar-Rynohyde with ease. Agrippina had taken a grisly cut to her abdomen from her opponent's wrist blades.

But the two warriors were far from finished.

Whisper used the moment to ask, "Why do you want this Code? What does it contain?"

Agrippina fixed a frigid stare upon her enemy. "What does it contain?" Her eyes flared with hate. "The _end_ for you and the rising of Olympus to true glory!"

Whisper pulled himself up, clutching his arm where blood seeped between the ablative titanium armor. "I don't want to fight you," he croaked, his voice breaking from the pain.

Agrippina's rage seemed to ebb for an instant—as if remembering a past moment, repressed by her hate. But the moment passed and the scarred woman spun her blades and attacked again, slashing at Whisper ruthlessly.

* * *

HIS BODY wracked with pain, Joe pulled himself along towards where Agrippina and Whisper battled. Whisper was beginning to weaken as his myriad collection of wounds began to take their toll. It wouldn't be long before Agrippina gained the advantage necessary to cut her enemy down.

No...not Danny...not my friend...my comrade.

Joe removed his combat knife from its sheath. He pulled himself along, leaving a trail of thick red blood behind him as he went.

Agrippina lunged and sliced Danny brutally on the torso, forcing him to drop to his knees. She followed through with a swift kick that sent the Mantis Staff flying from his hand. A hideous laugh escaped her lips as she howled like a banshee in the moonlight.

"And now...you die!"

She placed both Parang blades around Whisper's neck, preparing to remove his head.

With every ounce of his strength, Joe lunged up and wrapped himself onto Agrippina's back, jamming the knife down towards her neck. The knife hit home, but deflected off her armor. The woman flailed mightily, trying to dislodge her attacker. Joe held on, forcing himself to fight through the pain in order to save his friend.

After a brief moment, Agrippina shucked the hapless Ranger off, roughly. She turned towards him now, her blades in hand—eyes exploding with murderous intent.

* * *

A WET * _thunk*_ sound reverberated from Agrippina's back as a foot-long blade jammed itself through her chest. The woman looked at the weapon dripping with her blood as it jutted from her body like a grisly nail. Whisper sheathed the blade back into his wrist gauntlet and Agrippina fell to the ground.

Joe lay in a pool of widening blood, not moving. Whisper rushed to his side.

"Joe! Joe! Get up!"

His friend didn't move. The comlink switched on as Brick's voice came through urgently, " _Whisper we need to go now! There are reinforcement's coming from below and we cannot contain them forever! Krieger_ an _d the POWs are on board! Get your ass here now, man!"_

"Not without Joe!"

" _Dammit! I'm blowing the base in twenty seconds. You have to leave him!"_

"I'm not leaving without Joe!" Whisper yelled as loud as his haggard voice could manage.

_I am making my choice,_ Danny thought to himself. _If Joe dies, so do I._

He pulled his unconscious friend up and ran steadily towards the helicopter where the other Rangers were waiting onboard. Behind him, he could hear more Centurions coming from the base beneath them. The crack of gunfire spurned him forward. At the chopper, Krieger was returning fire with a SAW machine gun Brick had passed him. The Russian was trying to keep the Centurions off Joe and Danny's back long enough for them to reach the bird.

"Move your ass, metal man! Time to leave!" Krieger shouted over to them as they ran.

Pulling his friend along, Whisper had just reached the helicopter when a horrible realization gripped him:

The Code disc was missing!

Confused, he looked behind him and saw Agrippina standing obliviously amidst the gunfire, holding the obsidian disc in her hands. Blood oozed from her mouth as she held a blood-soaked hand against her chest. The wound that would have killed any other person was not enough to keep Agrippina off her feet.

"Looking for this?" she called back through bloody teeth.

_She must have palmed it when she was grappling with me_.

"No!" Whisper shouted at the enraged Olympus killer. He was about to jump off the chopper when he felt a hand grasp him from behind.

"It's too late!" Brick yelled before turning around to bellow at Isabella in the cockpit, "Take us up, now!"

The Marine pilot nodded and the Black Hawk began to ascend. After they were up forty feet, Brick hit the C9 detonator.

The SAS soldier hollered, "Everyone get down!"

The explosives discharged in an orgy of fire and debris. The entire yard exploded as the four consecutive explosions rattled the entire mountain to its core. Agrippina, seeing what they had planned, began running; dodging the flames and explosions with extraordinary athletic skill. Charging breakneck towards the Black Hawk, she jumped with all the power her suit could provide. It propelled her like a rocket towards the rising helicopter. But her wounds made her falter. She missed her mark and just managed to grab the frame of the door, clutching at it desperately.

Her weight caused the Black Hawk to veer suddenly, pulling it over the collapsing courtyard. The entire superstructure of Base Liberatio was collapsing in on itself, creating a fiery pit of vicious destruction.

As Agrippina dangled precariously, Whisper moved to the ledge and thrust out his hand, "Give me the Code!"

Agrippina stared back. The Code disc remained clamped in her hand.

"Give it to me and I'll pull you up, I promise!" said Whisper, truthfully.

For a fleeting second, her eyes softened as she looked into Whisper's shell-like helmet. "You win this one. I'll see you around, Handsome."

And with that, she released her grip. Agrippina plummeted down into the fiery inferno of the collapsing base, disappearing from sight.

Whisper watched her fall, the image burning itself into his soul. The helicopter veered away from the collapsing base and headed back towards Afghanistan.

* * *

INSIDE THE chopper, the Rangers helped place Joe lengthwise on the passenger seat. Krieger shut the side-door as Brick grabbed the first-aid kit attached to the bulkhead. Joe was half-conscious, barely aware of his surroundings. His wounds were grievous—multiple knife wounds and a brutal crack on his head. Blood soon drenched the seat and interior of the helicopter. Brick opened the first aid kit and went to work, pulling the flak jacket off to inspect Joe's wounds.

Private Petterson looked at the SAS soldier, his face marked with worry, "Will he be alright?"

Brick's face was non-committal as he said, "Don't know. He's lost a lot of blood. You—" he pointed to Krieger, "—raise his legs. He's going into shock!"

Joe sputtered a glob of blood out of his mouth as Whisper tried to restrain him. Joe coughed violently, his eyes opening and closing as if trying to focus his sight on something out of reach.

Whisper leaned closer, "Hold on Joe...just hold on. You'll be okay."

"Did we...did we get the Code?" gasped Joe, his voice weak from the shock.

Whisper didn't answer for a few seconds _._

How the hell do I tell him?

"We tried our best Joe." Whisper clutched his friend's hand, tightly. "Agrippina took it with her as she fell. It's gone."

Joe's ashen face turned away from his friend. "Aw hell...the...the Colonel's gonna kick my ass..."

Krieger managed a forced laugh, "There is bright side, my friend. Olympus no longer has it either. That is what counts."

Joe tried to answer, but couldn't. His eyes fluttered uncontrollably as he began to lose consciousness.

Whisper lightly slapped Joe's face, trying to rouse him. "Don't you fall asleep Joe! Open your eyes!"

Brick, assisted by Corporal Tennyson, had pressed a large dressing to the grisly wound on Joe's chest and was now working quickly to staunch the flow of blood from his leg. The blade had narrowly missed the femoral artery but had cut deep nevertheless. Brick tied another dressing on to the leg wound. He looked over at Krieger and gestured for him to grab hold of the dressing, "Hold this and press tight."

Krieger nodded, doing as he was asked. "Can you give him morphine for pain?"

Brick shook his head. "No mate, his blood pressure's already low—morphine could cause him to go into respiratory failure." The SAS man grabbed an IV bag and hung it from a hook on the roof of the aircraft. He stuck the IV needle into the vein on Joe's inner elbow.

Krieger shook his head grimly, "Hold on, friend. You will be fine, _dah_?"

Whisper looked at his comrade, wishing he could see him face to face. "Don't worry about a thing, Joe—we'll get you patched up."

Joe managed a weak smile. "I don't know Dan...I feel pretty...shitty..." A chuckle escaped his blue-tinged lips. "Danny..."

"I'm here, Joe, I'm here."

"Thanks...for everything."

"Don't try to talk right now. Just hold on a little longer."

"I will...I just need...to rest a bit..."

Joe's eyes closed as his head slumped back on the seat.

Whisper grasped Joe's hand tighter.

Spirits above, please don't let this man die.

Danny grabbed Brick by the shoulder. "He won't make it to Bagram Airbase. We can take him to Firebase Foxtrot. They have a medical center that can treat him!"

Brick glared at Whisper. The Colonel had said this was an off-the-books mission, but the Canadian was right: if Joe didn't get medical attention soon...

"Christ! Alright Isabella, we're changing course, luv. Get on the horn and contact Ranger Firebase Foxtrot. Tell them we're making an emergency landing."

Whisper added, "Tell them we're bringing Sergeant Braddock back home..."

### Chapter 21

Peacemakers

Firebase Foxtrot - 48 hours later

THE TINY makeshift infirmary stunk like the inside of an outhouse. The rancid odor of moldy, blood-soaked bandages pulled Joe from the dream-like state he had hovered in for the past two days. As his vision began to adapt to his environment, he became aware of two people in the room. Leaning against the concrete wall was Whisper, now wearing simple army fatigues and the pair of bionic sunglasses Doctor Yune had given him. A suture was fixed to Danny's cheek, holding closed a wicked abrasion.

On the opposite side of the room was a tall figure Joe couldn't quite make out. The figure spoke, his aged voice calling over to where Danny was standing, "Corporal, he's awake."

Colonel Walsh.

Danny Callbeck rushed over to Joe's bedside. "Joe! Can you hear me?"

"Yeah. Jesus, it stinks in here." The Ranger pulled himself up in the bed as best as he could but was halted by a flash of pain. "How long was I out?"

Danny flashed his rare smile. "Nearly two days. You're a tough guy to keep down."

Joe turned to look at Walsh. "Colonel...we...we lost..."

"Quiet now, Sergeant," Walsh said, walking over to stand at Joe's bedside. "You put up a hell of a fight. Olympus has lost two of its Generals, as well as their half of the Code. I'd say that qualifies as a victory for our side for the time being."

Joe nodded, then remembered something very important, "My men...are they..."

A grin forced its way under Walsh's bushy mustache, "They're fine. Some mild dehydration and a few broken bones. They didn't cotton to spending more time in this infirmary then they needed. They're burnin' to talk to you, though."

Joe smirked. He couldn't wait to talk to them either.

Walsh nodded, "Anyway, you did good Sergeant."

Joe smiled, then coughed hoarsely. His chest burned like someone had laid a hot poker on it and his back was even worse. He couldn't feel his leg. Alarmed, he pulled himself up to look down at the sheets. A rush of gratitude waved over him when he saw his right leg was still with him.

Danny chuckled, "You're in one piece Joe. Get some rest. There are some guys outside waiting to see you when you're able."

The Colonel nodded his appreciation once more and then turned to leave.

"Colonel!" Joe called out to the old soldier before he could leave.

"What is it, Sergeant?"

"The fight isn't over, is it? We _are_ taking the fight to Olympus, right, sir?"

The Colonel regarded Joe with a hard look. "You bet your ass, Joe. Get well, son." With that, he exited the infirmary into the hot Afghanistan sunlight.

Joe lay back in the bed. The events of the past two weeks felt like a lifetime ago. His failings, the losses he suffered and the lives he'd saved. It seemed as if these moments were only the beginning—the beginning of a new fight bigger than any he had ever waged.

Danny seemed to sense Joe's dark thoughts. He made his way over to a folding chair set up by Joe's bed and sat down.

"What's on your mind, Joe?"

"Just...what is all of this leading to? What is it Olympus wants?"

Danny shook his head, "I honestly don't know. We heard through the Colonel's CIA contacts that the Kazinistan government is in turmoil. They say Olympus attempted a coup against their government and have permanently terminated their contract with the PMC," Danny sat back in his chair, his stoic, scarred face in contemplative thought, "We beat them for now, but...like the Colonel says—they will return."

Joe asked the next question, dreading the answer, "And what about the Code? We have the only remaining half...they're going to want it back."

Whisper nodded. "You're right. Understanding the Code disc is the best chance we have to figure out what Olympus wants. But Doctor Yune hasn't been able to read that disc yet and he's beginning to wonder if he ever will. The technology far exceeds even the CIA's."

Joe sighed and leaned his head back further in his pillow. That familiar feeling of helplessness began to creep up in his mind. Danny sensed his friend's frustration, "We can only wait and see. They will pop up again and we will be ready. The Colonel is going to expand the unit. We'll be prepared next time." Danny stood up to leave.

Before he could go, Joe remembered one last thing, "Oh...that woman...Agrippina..."

Danny stopped in mid-step, "What about her?"

"I'm sorry. I know that you...and she..."

A shadow moved across Danny's face. Joe could tell something about that woman affected his friend deeply. He didn't pretend to understand.

Danny looked at Joe, rasping in his whisper-thin voice, "She was...astonishing...I just wish..." He couldn't finish.

Joe gave his friend an understanding look. "I understand, buddy."

Danny turned away without a word and left the infirmary, switching off the small generator-powered light as he went. Joe took a deep breath and closed his eyes. All things considered, things could certainly be worse right now.

* * *

DANNY WALKED down the few steps of the infirmary building, deep in thought. He hadn't been able to tell Joe the truth. Even now, in his mind's eye, he could still see Agrippina looking up at him as she fell into that inferno. Those gorgeous evergreen eyes, finally devoid of malice and hatred. In that final moment, he had seen a sorrow deep within her soul that cut the Canadian soldier to the bone.

A gruff voice behind Danny startled the young soldier.

"He's right, you know. It isn't over."

Danny whipped his head around to see the Colonel, back against the infirmary, smoking one of his cigarettes.

Danny sighed, "What do you mean sir?"

"I didn't tell you guys before because, frankly, I didn't trust you. I'm sure you'll understand. The truth is I've been fighting these bastards for over twenty years. Through different forms and guises, Olympus has sprung forth from the seeds of wartime and time again to work for the highest bidder. Sometimes as mercs, sometimes as terrorists—every time worse and more powerful than before." Walsh leaned his head against the infirmary wall, blowing smoke out as he did. On the makeshift landing pad to the east of them, Krieger and Isabella were working on some small repairs of the Black Hawk. The Russian was no doubt trying his advanced dating moves on the spunky Marine pilot, to no avail.

Danny moved over to stand in front of the Colonel, "Sir...why did you ask me to...take Joe out if he endangered the mission. You knew all the time Joe would never do something like that. He will always find a way to complete the mission."

"It was a simple test, Mr. Callbeck. This team is going to depend on each of its players if we are going to have a chance against this PMC. You proved you would never back down—that you would always find a way to not only complete the mission but to bring every last man home." The Colonel exhaled a lungful of smoke, "You know I think we might have a chance now."

"What do you mean 'might'?"

Walsh took a long drag of his cigarette. "Son, over the past ten years, I have lost over a hundred men fighting Olympus. A hundred of the best soldiers America has ever seen. This private military will crush anyone in their way that tries to fuck with them. You need to be ready for what is to come, Corporal." He tossed the cigarette to the ground and started walking to the Black Hawk, "Here endeth the lesson."

Danny Callbeck watched the Colonel walk off, his heart heavy at what he'd been told. The sound of voices alerted him to the rescued POWs, making their way towards the infirmary to talk to and congratulate their former Sergeant and rescuer. Danny watched them with a sense of sadness.

Somehow he knew the hard lessons had yet to be learned.

Epilogue

Olympus Laboratory - Unknown Location

AGRIPPINA'S EYES snapped open, her body arching in vicious pain. She was in the middle of a large, sterile room drenched in darkness, save for a halo of light projected down upon the metal bed she was laying upon. The only sensation she felt was pain. Her entire body was wracked with burns, her legs were both broken and her left eye was gone—gouged out during her fall.

_Why am I alive?_ The question sat unanswered in the Olympus commander's mind as she writhed in agony, awaiting the end.

"Are you awake, my dove of war?"

The sound came from the darkness, booming through the vacuous laboratory like the vengeful voice of God.

Agrippina's throat was scorched and ravaged by the fires of the fortress, but she still managed to croak a response, "My lord...my Imperator...is that you?"

The booming echo returned, this time moving along the far recesses of the lab, "Look what they have done to you. My Agrippina...my vengeful Carnificus Supremus. Look at you now." An echo of sadness could be heard in the powerful voice.

"My Caesar...my lord I...failed you."

"No, my dear. We underestimated our enemies. It will not happen again."

Agrippina could hear the sound of footsteps closing in towards her. Her good eye searched the impenetrable darkness for His form, but couldn't find it.

"No, it will not, my lord."

"Good, my dear Agrippina. Are you in pain?" The voice seemed to falter for a moment. Agrippina thought she heard a muffled cough.

"...N...No my lord..."

"That pleases me. I must ask you...where is the second half of the Code?"

Agrippina gagged violently, blood spewing from her ravaged lips. Her bloody hand moved to a small pocket within her suit and from it, she produced the second half of the Code disc—untouched and undamaged. She held the disc up, her arm wavering from the pain. A hand appeared from behind her and took the priceless disc from her trembling fingers.

"That is wonderful news." The voice so close now—soft and gentle but rich with command and authority. "Was _He_ there?"

"...my lord?"

"The one you mentioned. What was his name again?"

"...Whisper...Danny."

"Yes. _He_."

Agrippina closed her eye as pain like nothing she had ever experienced blazed through her body, "Whisper...did this...he... _they_ have the other half of the Code."

"That is very disheartening my love. Why did you not kill him?"

"I...I...my...I..." she stammered uselessly, not knowing how to answer. A cold hand reached forward to stroke her burned face. She shut her eye, wincing at the caress of his wrinkled hand.

"You... _feel_ something for him. Even after he did this to you—you feel for him."

"No, my Lord...I feel only for Olympus. I feel pain for you alone."

The hand caressed her, soothingly. Agrippina began to shake uncontrollably.

"I know you do, my beautiful Venus. But you are damaged now—damaged almost beyond repair."

If Agrippina's tear ducts hadn't been burned away, she would have cried a stream of regret.

The voice continued, "That is why I must re-sculpt you...into the vision of a true Olympus general," The speaker withdrew his hand, his voice going flat and unemotional, "The pain will be unimaginable, but when you are complete, your rebirth will signify the rise of Olympus into the annals of history itself."

The speaker snapped his fingers and several human forms walked towards her from the darkness, as if waiting for their cue. In their hands were various items of medical practice: saws, splitters, scalpels. They converged on Agrippina's deformed body, implements at the ready.

"You may scream, Agrippina. There is no shame."

And she did for some time.

**THE END...FOR NOW**.

If you liked the book, don't forget to grab the rest in the Code of War series, available right now in a discounted digital box-set that includes an exclusive novella!

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### ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jim Roberts was born in Yorkton, Saskatchewan. Currently, he lives in Red Deer, Alberta with a ludicrous Conan the Barbarian collection and unhealthy painting hobby. He is currently in the planning stages of the sixth _Code of War_ book, titled _The Forsaken._ He loves speaking with his fans and heartily thanks them for taking a chance on his books.

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