24 January, 1987, Australia Day, 11:26 PM
	A secret outpost 360 Kilometers southwest of Alice 
Springs
	
	The sun hammers its relentless dull rays onto the sullen 
desert. The air hangs heavy and humid, without any remote 
possibility of wind. The occasional waft of air tries to start some 
kind of movement, but is shouted down by consensus. More 
unbearable than the heat and the heavy humidity is the light. So 
bright and unending that it makes this wasteland appear as 
endless as time itself. Nothing stands out. No rocks, no trees; 
nothing but shimmering heat-haze from horizon to horizon. Far 
off, very far off, though far and near have little relevance in this 
hellish place, there is the suggestion of something very large. It 
may be a city. It may be a rock. It doesn’t matter.
	Here, however, there is something; not something to be 
noticed. It is not the sort of complex with a door and a building 
on top of it. That is because this is not the sort of nice complex 
in America with conveniently sleepy security guards and 
amazing conspiracy theories brewing behind its nice white 
doors. It is not the sort in which the scientists go home and show 
fascinating home lives in which they care for their wonderful 
wives and growing children, and pretend to sell greeting cards. 
This is not the sort of place that you leave at all. This is the sort 
of place in which when you go there, you are issued with nice, 
clean clothes, a room number, and a schedule. This is the sort 
of place in which you either leave in a box, or not at all.
	The eye of narrative sinks under the red sands of the 
desert fall and the thick crust of iron-saturated clayless dirt, and 
shows a dull world of off-white cabinets and computers. Men in 
white coats potter around. Security guards wearing gray clothes 
and grim expressions stand at important corners. Instead of 
being the nice, roly-poly security guard who falls asleep at 
convenient times and allow heroes to sneak past and steal vital 
hi-technology secrets, these are the nasty security guards who 
stay awake and alert, appear to be have been carved from solid 
granite rather than born, and take about half an hour to come up 
with a response to a difficult question like ‘what is your name?’, 
or even a difficult accusation such as ‘Good Morning.’
	Everyone there is white and pale. Cooling systems tick 
constantly, their white fan-blades pushing dull gray air past thin 
off-white vents. White liquid oxygen flows around a path in a 
thick white tube under the floors and absorbs the heat in the air, 
making the unbearable heat radiating from above less 
unbearable.
	The whiteness has extended itself to the faces of the 
people there. They are all bland, pale people with dull 
expressions and technical minds.
	Amongst these people there resides a secret; something 
that has been in production in conjunction with half a dozen 
different organizations both in and out of Australia. Today, a 
project that has been in production since the second great war 
will come to fruition. Blood, sweat and three generations of three 
families, scientists and military minds have contributed to one 
man, who is currently, under sedation.
	
	“What the hell are you talking about? It’s not meant to 
malfunction like that!” Colonel Marshall roared.
	The scientist, whose name was Plummer, did not like 
Marshall. He was clearly a man of limited intelligence and small 
imagination, but one who thrived on his own paranoia. The fact 
that Roswell was a place of fascination to which conspiracy 
theorists made pilgrimages to and that this underground 
complex wasn’t was a tribute to the man’s obsession with 
security. He was the man credited with the one-way ticket 
scheme of things here; no-one leaves, no-one knows. While life 
was as comfortable as possible for the life-time inmates of the 
nameless institution, it did not alter in the least that the people 
who left, left dead. That is why the only people there were 
Marshall, the security guards who had simple pleasures ranging 
from pictures of pretty women to beer, and scientists who were 
so deeply entwined with their work, to remove one from the 
other would be death for both. People lived inside their own 
minds here, and not a few people had lost their ways home.
	“He, er, Sir, I might wish to point out, is still a human 
being, sir, and therefore,”
	“He is not a human now! He’s Perseus! He is what we 
need him to be!”
	“He is a person sir, and...” Plummer said. And deserving 
of more respect than you are. These private thoughts remained 
just that. 
	“Enough of this! What happened?”
	“Apparently, someone accidentally, I stress, increased 
adrenaline in his medication. He became very tense and 
paranoid, as the result of the chemical reaction in his body 
altered his mental processes. I stress sir, nothing is going 
wrong.”
	“I just have three dead security guards.”
	Three less of those gorillas is no dent on your nickel-
plated skull unless it gives you an excuse to take it out on one of 
us. Once again, Plummer’s thoughts remained private.
	“Pilger, if–”
	“I’m Plummer. Sir.” Plummer had run out of his limited 
supply of meekness, and had begun to speak in remotely 
clipped tones.
	“Whatever. If he can’t be contained, he’ll be useless. I 
want him totally restrained. Did the pubescent change influence 
his development any?”
	“Very little sir. The Berserk worked perfectly. We’re 
dealing with a next-to-perfect and fully operational Perseus, sir. I 
believe that, given a few more weeks of training, he will be fully 
capable of combat status.”
	“Good. Good. Just– no, don’t.” Marshall scratched at his 
white-stubbled chin. “just keep him under until we can make 
sure of his stability.”
	“Alright.”
	“Alright, sir.” Marshall noted.
	“You don’t have to call me sir.” Plummer noted benignly 
as he walked out.
	Once the door was shut, Plummer began to walk briskly 
away from Marshall’s office. The man’s mere presence made his 
knuckles itch, and although Marshall could have broken the 
reedy scientist with one hand, Plummer wished that he could be 
there when Marshall got what was surely coming to him. 
	What if Perseus was the one to deal Marshall with his 
final reward? Oh, that would be sweet. Just to see the look on 
Marshall’s face as his military machine raged out of control and 
ended his pointless, empty, paranoid life… that would be 
payment enough for all this isolation.
	An arm reached out from around the corner and 
wrapped around Plummer’s neck. Restrained from speaking, 
Plummer could only gasp as the white-hot prick of the syringe 
rammed between his second and third ribs. Not exactly 
professional, he noted, as he slumped to the floor, but very 
effective...
	
	19 April, 1998, 3:35 PM
	An undefined point in the coastal waters of California
	
	“Deuce, what you’re trying to say is that you’re stuck.”
	“I’m not stuck... just...”
	“Deuce, face it. You’re stuck.”
	“I can just,–”
	“No, because, look,–”
	Deuce stood up and scowled in disgust at the board. A 
small posse of rooks, bishops and knights hemmed in his queen 
– who was the only thing in the way of his king’s demise by the 
aforementioned posse. To take one piece would leave the king 
helpless and lose the queen; an almost perfect checkmate. 
Deuce stalked away to the main cabin of the boat with a snort of 
disgust.
	“Valerie, you’ve got to stop doing that. Boys are fragile.” 
Sydney laughed. For once, the Australian girl was not clad in 
leather; instead, she wore a loose-fitting but totally standard 
sweater and slacks.
	“At least, here. Back home, there were guys who could 
bite off your ears and spit them in your eyes. They usually were 
as dumb as bricks, and probably couldn’t have spelled ‘chess’. 
Come to think of it, they hated losing, too.”
	“Back in Russia, men were either wimps or thugs. 
Women were just women.” Natalia said, walking on the deck. 
Like Sydney, she had ditched her normally revealing clothes, 
and was clad in what any average girl would be wearing at the 
time of day.
	“Where’s Abbey?”
	“Asleep.”
	Sydney made a sort of non-committal grunt.
	Valerie looked hard at the board. “I’m pretty sure he’s 
right. I just can’t find the move.”
	“Don’t worry about it. He’ll get over it. They all do. Then 
they start being obnoxious again.”
	“I–”
	“Sydney, Valerie, wake Abbey up. We have something 
big. Get ready for action.”
	Without a word, the girls dashed into the boat to do just 
that.
	
	“So, girls. What do you know about Perseus?” Deuce 
spoke with the tones of someone who had just found a gold 
nugget with a rattlesnake wrapped around it.
	“A Greek prince. In myth, he slew the Medusa by 
watching her with his silver shield and cutting her head off. He 
then went on and killed his father by accident when he threw a 
discus at the Olympics.” Abbey supplied. “I take it this is not the 
Perseus you’re asking about.”
	“You’re right. The Perseus I mean is not the one of 
legend. I am speaking of the joint ASIO/SES/ANZTARD project.
	“ASIO is Australia’s CIA. Not as effective, and not as 
powerful; hell, they’re in the phone book.”
	“Read about a guy who phoned them once; they didn’t 
know they were in the book.” Sydney said, with a grin.
	“The SES is like the Australian Commandos.”
	“And they happen to be ninety percent more efficient 
then the American breed. Hell, they’ve only ever had one 
combat-related death. And he got home and died two days 
afterward.” Sydney interjected.
	“Sydney, can I please continue?”
	“The floor is yours, Deuce, my friend.”
	“ANZTARD is bigger and far more powerful. During 
World War One, Australia’s rulers, the Prime Minister and a 
small, select cabinet of those lucky enough to know what was 
really going on, decided it needed to be formed. They looked at 
the American Pentagon, and the Russian KGB, and decided to 
allow ASIO to be the obvious, visible wing of their secret 
service. The Australia/New Zealand Technology and Research 
Division spent all their time since the Great War plugging holes. 
ASIO still had power, like the FBI does, to a lesser extent, but 
the ANZTARD run both ASIO, the Ministry of Defense, and to a 
certain degree, the SES and Armed Forces. Australia’s got 
some benefits, being the youngest country on Earth. They 
learned from America, England, Germany, Switzerland, and 
dozens of other places.
	“Together, they cooked up Perseus. As far as we know, 
Perseus is the embodiment of the SES’ perfect soldier, but 
packing the urban commando skills that ASIO and ANZTARD 
need.
	“Perseus escaped in ’87. We don’t know what happened 
to him after that. But we do know a bit about his whereabouts at 
certain times.
	“Anyway. Perseus was spotted, just today, crossing the 
border between Oregon and California. As of right now, we know 
he’s in California; that’s all.”
	“So we head over there, find him, and...”
	“We don’t. It seems that a terrorist known as the 
Vampire is in the area.”
	“Deuce, is this relevant to Perseus?” Natalia asked 
quietly.
	“I’m getting to that. The Vampire is internationally 
known, not as a smuggler or an arms dealer, but as a mass-
killer. It doesn’t matter how, but we believe that he’s a sort of 
mass-range assassin. He blew up a five-mile area of city in 
Botswana once, to kill one man. He caught about twelve 
hundred more in the blast. Collateral damage is sort of a calling 
card. Both the Vampire and Perseus were spotted in the same 
general area, so we think they might be related in some way; 
one may be trying to kill the other, one may be about to make a 
deal with the other, though why either needs the other’s skills is 
beyond me, but then again, they could both not be aware that 
the other exists. It’s dangerous.
	“The problem is, that we have received information that 
the Vampire has been hired. We can’t identify the employer or 
the target, but we can confirm that he’s in the area. So, we have 
to get close to the Vampire, and take him down.
	“I’ve called Johnny. The CIA have agreed to lend him to 
us, and we’ve agreed to share with them either Perseus or the 
Vampire. the Vampire has several death sentences in several 
places, so, as you can guess, it’s going to be hard to decide who 
gets him. I think we should turn him over to the UN and let them 
decide on his punishment.”
	“Because if I catch him, I’d probably kill him myself.
	“Abbey, Sydney, you two get coastal.” Deuce cracked a 
tiny smile. “Johnny will meet you there. This is no chateau in the 
Alps, this time. The only opportunity we’re getting at the 
Vampire is at an open-air party. He’s a classical music 
enthusiast and the party holds host to some of his favourite 
musicians. Knowing him, he’d come here just to hear them.
	“So, Sydney, you and Johnny will be arriving separately. 
Abbey, you’re going in via the roof.”
	“Hang on. I thought that Abbey was meant to team with 
Johnny.”
	“Johnny has the reputation of the morals of an alley cat. 
If he turns up someplace with the same girl twice in a row, 
people will think that she’s not just his most recent bimbo, and 
spies start to track her. The only reason we’ve got Sydney 
involved is that, knowing Johnny and Natalia, teaming him up 
with Natalia, she’d break his fingers.”
	Both Abbey and Valerie laughed out that, and Natalia 
made a gentle smile. 
	“Here are the ID’s for you two. You’ll be masquerading 
as cousins. Alexander and Melanie Creed.” Deuce smiled. “I’m 
betting that Johnny will have a hard time remembering to not hit 
on you.”
	
	19 April, 1998, 10:45
	A party in Northern California
	
	“Melanie Creed.” Sydney smiled at one of the many 
perimeter guards, flashing her ID card.
	The guard looked at it. Truth be told, he only gave it a 
cursory inspection, keeping most of his attention focused on the 
dazzling young woman who stood before him.
	Sydney had changed once more, into a stunning 
sleeveless black evening dress that hugged her form, and ended 
just above the knees. Despite her penchant for normally 
revealing clothing, Johnny seemed to bring out a side of her that 
she didn’t understand. The last thing she wanted to do was to 
bring attention to herself in this situation.
	Even without her normal leather gear, Sydney was a 
truly striking sight, so she was not too worried about alternative 
solutions to problems involving high-testosterone males. 
Prepared for anything, Sydney launched into the crowd, 
searching for Johnny. 
	
	Abbey hefted up the manhole cover positioned behind 
the U-shaped mansion. The party was in the hollow of the U, but 
there was this manhole behind the entire structure. She was 
definitely not dressed for situations involving high-testosterone 
males. In plain brown gear, she was prepared to go where no 
Danger Girl had gone before; or at least she hoped so. If Deuce 
did this sort of thing regularly, she might consider retirement.
	Valerie had sat with Abbey for three hours making sure 
that Abbey had memorized the map of the sewers. Valerie’s 
constant training and obvious distrust of Abbey’s memory had 
resulted in Abbey’s almost razor-sharp memory of the area.
	Straddling the miry muck with a foot on both sides of the 
tunnel, Abbey began to drudge along in the dark.
	“I gotta get a desk job.”
	
	“So, let me get this straight.” The Vampire said. Unlike 
many men in his profession, who cultivate a pleasant but 
disturbing air and pleasant looks, the Vampire was scruffy, 
smelly, and dirty. Years of association with his body had made 
him feel slight disgust at it; which was nothing compared to its 
disgust of him. “Youse all want me to take out this ‘x’ guy, but 
youse want me to do it yourse way? Whens I kills, I kills the 
ways I wants. And Youse can just sit up and shut up.” He wiped 
his nose on his sleeve.
	“Vampire, we have a deal. We employ you to do this 
job. You do it with our weapon. Trust me. You will like it.” the 
man was tall, willowy, and very effeminate. He viewed the 
Vampire with a distinct show of distaste; he was clearly a 
bounder and a cad. Probably a lecher, or pederast. Or similar.
	“Oh really?” Vampire’s tone changed. He didn’t like this 
employer; he seemed a real girlish fellow, and probably one of 
them. The idiot seemed to fall for the idiotic accent, too. “What 
is it?”
	“Are you aware of a disease known as the Ebola Virus?”
	Vampire’s eyes lit up. Then, a cloud crossed them. 
“Won’t work well enough. It dies when exposed to oxygen or 
sunlight. It can’t be airborne.”
	“This will. A cellulose wall has been coated onto the 
cells. It protects them from both sunlight and oxygen. This is the 
newest and most powerful development so far. We’ve applied a 
tag to it, however. The virus has a maximum range of sixty 
miles from its point of origin. After that, natural decay 
accelerates and the wall vanishes. Nothing can survive while 
infected, so carriers cannot escape and therefore, we prevent it 
from being too powerful. We will be leaving the area in twenty 
minutes. At that point, you will have access to the virus canister. 
Then, you are free to do as you will. The target’s identity will be 
enclosed with the canister.” The man turned and left.
	
	Natalia glanced at the controls. For once, she was not 
on the backup. Getting to and killing or catching the Vampire 
was Johnny’s job. Instead, she sat quietly in the helicopter, 
calmly waiting for the signal.
	No wonder Natalia was picked for the passive parts. She 
could have played the waiting game with a wall. She could out-
stare a goldfish. Natalia was the very embodiment of patience 
itself.
	
	Justice is a relative thing. From the perspective of the 
victim, justice is equal to and no less than vengeance. From the 
perspective of the culprit, justice is much less severe.
	However, once in a while, someone objective turns up, 
considers the facts, and passes judgment. Most of the time, 
these people make bad judgments, moving on technicalities and 
leniency. Once in a very great while, someone changes that, by 
bypassing justice and law, which are by themselves, some of the 
very basic building blocks of civilization.
	However, there are people who deserve no more or no 
less than the grave which they dug for themselves.
	
	Someone watches from the shadows. Perhaps the only 
person capable of out-lasting Natalia, this person could have 
outlasted a block of rough diamond when it came to waiting. 
This person could have out-stared a mirror.
	
	19 April, 1998, 11:40
	The same party in Northern California
	
	“This party’s really rocking, huh?” Johnny asked. The 
young lady gave him the facial expression best noted as ‘a look’. 
It’s amazing how much derision can be contained in italics.
	“I mean, hell, classical schmassical. What’s a pretty–”
	She gave him another, more painful look, and walked 
away.
	“Damn.” Johnny muttered, to no-one in particular. 
Hopefully, Natalia and Abbey were ready; he’d just checked in 
with Sydney, and she was ready for her part; i.e., luring the 
guards away. At least, he hoped she’d stick to that. Knowing 
what Sydney would do in the situation, or more properly, not 
knowing what Sydney would do made him more than a little bit 
edgy. As far as partners went, Johnny preferred Abbey. Natalia 
gave him the heebie-jeebies, and as far as he knew, Valerie 
never left the yacht.
	Johnny glanced at his watch.
	Showtime.
	 
	Abbey grunted loudly. This was official. She was hating 
this.
	The kitchens had a huge vat, in which they washed the 
huge quantities of raw vegetables and occasionally brewed huge 
vats of soup in. While not exactly standard equipment, what it 
did have was an enormous drain. The drain which connected 
directly with the sewers.
	The drain popped open to allow chunkier substances 
through; everything from failed soup to failed stew.
	Either fortunately or unfortunately, depending on your 
perspective, kitchens are seldom investigated when security 
plans are drawn up. Therefore, another grunt came from the 
drain, and it swung open.
	A leather-clad but brown (for reasons other than natural 
coloring) hand clutched the side. Another followed it, and Abbey 
squeezed her way through the drain. 
	She was a mess. Still... there is that tap there.
	She glanced at her watch and at the two locked doors to 
the deserted, indoor kitchen. Great. Johnny and Sydney won’t 
need me for a while. Time to wash some of this crap off.
	
	On almost perfect timing, Natalia glanced at her watch, 
and noted absently that Johnny and Sydney should be on their 
way, and that Abbey should have come out in the kitchens.
	
	Sydney was already at action stations. Her dress, while 
unsuitable for combat, was more or less perfect for what she 
had in mind. Abbey could have probably chosen better, but any 
port in a storm.
	There were three guards standing in front of the door to 
what Valerie had assured her was the Vampire’s quarters. 
Damn. Three guards? Luring them away would be a cinch; 
actually dealing with all three in this outfit, unarmed, might be 
difficult.
	Standing in the shadows near the door, Sydney began to 
weigh up the options. Valerie had explained that luring them 
away while Johnny caught the Vampire would be the best 
method of attack. But, face to face with it, Sydney didn’t even 
want to contemplate it.
	She took a deep breath to girt herself for what she knew 
she would have to do. Even though nothing would come from it, 
she felt repelled by it. Once again, she took a deep breath. And 
another one.
	And then, she got an idea.
	Sydney removed both of her shoes. High heels look very 
nice, she reflected, but on anything but this carpeted floor, 
they’re hell to move without making a racket. Taking both shoes 
in one hand, she padded back down the shadowy hall. 
	I just hope Johnny’s bright enough to wait and not try to 
take them all on...
	Of course, any optimism in Johnny’s intellect was 
definitely misplaced.
	
	Johnny, however, stood on the opposite side of the 
door, unaware of Sydney’s presence or plan. While there are 
two other people involved in the situation, one of whom Johnny 
was unaware, who were both very patient, Johnny was not one 
of them.
	Unlike Sydney, he felt no need to steel himself before 
launching into the fray at an instant. This is probably because 
Johnny’s plan of attack didn’t involve looking winsome.
	“Hyaaaaah!” Johnny cried as he leapt forward. Landing 
in a very stylish fighting position, he prepared for combat.
	That’s when he realized that, while unarmed obviously, 
these tuxedoed guards all had shoulder-holstered pistols under 
their nice suit jackets. He realized this, because someone shot 
him.
	As he thudded downward, he thought how lucky he was 
that they’d shot him through the right shoulder.
	Then, the thought that this was to prepare him for an 
execution popped into his mind.
	Fear didn’t enter Johnny’s mind very often. Johnny 
didn’t have the imagination. Once in a while, however, the 
screaming, gibbering ninety percent of his brain that was 
designed to help him keep alive grabbed the ten percent that 
was designed to be Johnny, and shook it firmly, stating that it 
was taking control for a while. This was one of those times. 
	Johnny, blissfully unaware of his own brain’s operations 
(a common enough state for most people) simply responded to 
natural orders.
	Rising like a vindaloo from a sensitive stomach, Johnny 
hared down the hallway at high speeds, nursing his shoulder, 
with the three guards in hot pursuit.
	
	Returning to the scene, Sydney saw it. Hah! Johnny had 
cleared the way! So he did something useful for once! Dropping 
the statuette she was going to throw as part of the diversion 
she’d planned, Sydney opened the door, and went inside.
	The Vampire wasn’t inside. The room was an absolute 
pigsty. Clothes lay all over the place, and the bed was unmade. 
It wouldn’t surprise her in the least if it had been ransacked. 
Well, if the Vampire wasn’t here, than it was time to improvise.
	
	Abbey rinsed off the rest of the muck from her person 
and her clothes, and put them back on. Thank god the food was 
prepared in advance, she thought. The last thing I need is 
someone asking questions. Or not asking any questions at all, 
like ‘please’. Even when cleaned, the memory and odor of the 
sewers remained on the clothes, which made Abbey more than 
a bit uncomfortable.
	After quickly lacing her boots, Abbey began to move.
	Just as she unlocked and opened the door, Johnny 
came bolting through at speeds she’d never have thought he’d 
reach. Johnny was breaking the hundred-yard terrified bolt 
speed record. 
	Going on intuition, Abbey slammed the door shut, 
leaned into it, and flicked the lock.
	Two thuds, followed by a pause, then a third.
	Johnny had slowed down, panting when Abbey turned 
around.
	“Any good excuses for why the mighty Barracuda was 
running from just three guards? You are armed, aren’t you?”
	Johnny, subdued into rationality, blinked several times. 
Seldom used glands for generating vast amounts of terror shut 
down, and as the last traces of confusion and misunderstanding 
leaked from his system, he glanced down inside his jacket at his  
unwounded shoulder. A holster paid testament to the Magnum 
.45 he’d had with him since arrival.
	“I, I’ve... I’ve been shot.” He panted, at last. This 
suddenly opened the alleyway for both pity lines and a decent 
excuse. “Couldn’t get to my gun.” The pity lines could wait.
	“Come on. Where’s Syd?”
	“Dunno, she didn’t turn up to get rid of the guards.”
	“Damn.” Abbey sighed. She pawed at her pocket. The 
familiar water-proof (and hopefully whatever-else-Abbey-had-
been-crawling-through-proof) communicator was still there. 
“Alright. Natalia? Natalia?”
	Natalia’s thickly accented voice rolled through the 
speaker. “Yes Abbey?”
	“Johnny’s been shot and we’ve lost Syd. What’s the 
better idea, take Johnny to you and you deal with him, or send 
him and find Syd?”
	Natalia’s silence indicated that in her opinion, she could 
shoot Johnny again and use his carcass as a bobsled as far as 
she was concerned. Finally she spoke.
	“Send him. I can patch him up. Abbey, go find Syd. 
She’s more important.”
	“Abbey out.” Putting the communicator back in her 
pocket, Abbey turned to Johnny. “Johnny, I’d patch you up with a 
bit of my jacket, but I don’t think you want infection, and after I’m 
done with this mission, the only thing these clothes will be good 
for is fertilizer or kindling. So, just head to the dust off. Natalia’ll 
patch you up.
	Johnny nodded mutely and ran out the other door.
	
	Sydney quietly nudged the door open. The gunshot had, 
after drawing the guards away from the Vampire’s quarters, 
increased them. Now, there were practically no guards left 
anywhere.
	One or two stood at their posts, but that was their faults, 
not Sydney’s. Besides, nothing she did couldn’t be fixed with a 
decent chiropractor.
	Inside, there were chests of drawers, some open and 
revealing several costumes, several mirrors, some large, 
unlocked chests, and a large, canopied bed, on which a young 
lady slept.
	Creeping inside, Sydney tried not to think about what the 
young lady did for a living, and began searching through the 
chests of drawers.
	Somewhat unsurprisingly, she found an outfit very 
similar to her usual gear, but a little baggier in some areas and a 
bit tighter around the waist. A whip that seemed to go with the 
outfit – not a bullwhip, but half-decent as a weapon – was in one 
of the thigh-length pockets. A few quick snips with a Swiss Army 
Knife brought about the alterations to the suit that Sydney 
needed – resulting a bare midriff look, – and another brief 
moment of silence saw her change into the outfit.
	Feeling much more natural, Sydney recommenced her 
search.
	
	Johnny stumbled into the helicopter. Since he was rarely 
in this kind of situation (because he seldom forgot that he was 
carrying a weapon), he wasn’t sure about the stylish manner in 
which he was supposed to do things. Groaning in genuine pain, 
he slumped down on the metal floor.
	Natalia gave him a cursory examination, rolling him onto 
his side with one hand. After looking intently at the wound which 
Johnny had received, she released him and he rolled back onto 
his stomach.
	“Nothing important hit.” Natalia said quietly.
	“What?” Johnny asked. “You going to do anything?”
	Natalia gave him a cold look. After seeming to consider 
something, she yanked open a cabinet and pulled out a roll of 
adhesive bandages and cotton swabs. Reaching in so the door 
concealed her hand, she pulled out a large bottle of iodine.
	Johnny swallowed. He doubted the efficiency of this 
medical application, and he hoped she’d take him to some kind 
of hospital, soon.
	
	Abbey stalked, barefoot, down the corridor. Boots are 
useful and serviceable, but definitely not quiet. She’d just 
passed the live-in girlfriend’s – or whatever’s – room, and had 
proceeded down the hall.
	Preternaturally alert senses alerted her to the presence 
down the hallway. Ducking into the shadows, she edged down 
the hallway, gun at the ready.
	A crack of a whip indicated she had chosen the wrong 
side of the hall. The whip knocked the gun out of her hand, and 
she rolled sideways, ready to run like hell.
	“Syd?”
	“You’re one for the intelligent questions, aren’t you?” 
Sydney asked. “Come on. Get the gun. We have to find the 
Vampire.”
	The pair stalked, both barefoot, down the hallway.
	
	And the unseen watcher grins.
	
	00:05
	00:04
	00:03
	00:02
	00:01
	00:00
	Ah.
	The container popped open. The Vampire had waited for 
the counter to tick all the way down from 20:00. And now, the 
virus was his.
	There was a canister and a manila folder with a name 
on it. He ripped open the folder and grabbed the papers inside. 
Then he let out a little manic giggle, and grabbed the canister.
	Grinning like a thirteen year old who had just seen 
something he shouldn’t have – at least, not by law – and 
clutching the sheaf of papers and the opaque gray canister to his 
chest, the Vampire scampered his bandy-legged little scamper 
out into the hall.
	
	Abbey walked past a door, gun ready, just as it burst 
open and smacked her in the nose.
	As she tumbled backwards, Abbey heard the crack of 
the whip, followed by a hideous shriek.
	Sydney began to run after the Vampire; but the little 
man was far faster than he looked. Sydney pursued him around 
a corner –and saw him making good his escape. While Sydney 
was thin, she couldn’t slide down a laundry chute.
	Abbey stood up, shaking her head. 
	“The weasel got away. I’m not sure what he had, but he 
seemed to want to keep it intact.”
	Abbey walked, slightly dazed, into the room the Vampire 
had run from.
	It was entirely empty, except for an ornate plinth with a 
complicated machine on top. It appeared, at first to be the 
classic mad bomber’s toy, with large red LED display with the 
classic digital clock displaying 00:00 in flashing red letters. The 
only difference is that bombs don’t tend to flip open like very 
complex jack-in-the-boxes. 
	There was a manila folder, open and empty inside.
	Other than that, the room was totally bare.
	“Damn. Whatever he was after, he got.” Abbey muttered
	“I’m betting that the folder is the target. Give it here.”
	Abbey grabbed the folder, closed it, and handed it, 
without looking at it, to Sydney.
	Sydney swore under her breath.
	“What?” Abbey asked.
	Sydney flipped the Manila folder around and showed 
Abbey the cover. The name was written in neat script up in the 
top corner.
	“Deuce. The little twerp is after Deuce.”
	
	The unseen watcher swears between clenched teeth. 
The girls missed the little maggot. By now, he’d be long gone.
	
	The Vampire landed in a pile of sheets. Contrary to 
popular belief and the obvious evidence, he was not really a 
coward. Natural caution did overextend itself in his case, once or 
twice, but he was not a coward.
	Running from the room, he grabbed one of the many 
patrolling, suited guards by the arm.
	“There are two intruders. Quit looking for whatever 
you’re looking for and get them. They’re near the safe room. 
They’re women, so don’t think with your fly. Catch them; I think 
your boss will be impressed.”
	The guard gave him a briefly confused look as he both 
confirmed that a human being was talking to him, not talking 
chimpanzee, then about the room that The Vampire was talking 
about.
	“Right.” the guard dashed away, gun in hand, already 
talking into his communicator.
	
	Abbey was used to whirlwind activity when Sydney was 
involved. Already they had run like hell from three groups of 
three guards, which showed that someone was thinking. Having 
run from the most recent, they dashed down a hallway, in the 
huge, labyrinthine mansion.
	Rounding a corner, they encountered three more.
	Behind them, the original three had begun to move in, 
pistols ready.
	 The three in front had pulled pistols from their jackets.
	
	The unseen watcher snarled. This was not going well.
	
	“What the hell was that?” asked one of the guards of his 
five bullet-headed friends. Having backed the two girls into a 
corner, they were proceeding to close in, slowly and warily, 
mindful of the whip and pistol.
	Abbey was not an idiot. People who went up against six-
to-one odds in impossible fights and wound up as stories had a 
cause. They cared. At the moment, Abbey didn’t care enough 
about hurting these guards to kill one of them only to get five 
surprise packages of lead imbedded in her skull. So, she held 
the pistol with her fingers outside the cover. Suitable for pistol-
whipping, but not for the real use of the weapon.
	The snarl came again.
	This time, two other guards heard it. Turning to see the 
source, they were the first to die their short, sharp, blood-filled 
deaths.
	Abbey shut her eyes as the blood splashed. Sydney had 
turned on the other four guards, just as screams two and three 
indicated that now there were two. 
	The remaining two guards didn’t turn around. Breathing 
heavily, they looked at the carpet. A red stain of blood, far larger 
than people would bleed from a mere gunshot wound, was 
smeared across the ground. A head rested in part of the puddle. 
The body of said head rested three feet further along. Then, the 
guards paid close attention to the heavy breathing, interspersed 
with brief snatches of snarling from behind them. Finally, they 
glanced at Sydney and Abbey. The pistol and the whip seemed 
frail bedtime fears compared to the invisible, violent savagery 
resting behind them.
	Moving at glacial speeds, the guards placed their two 
pistols on the ground. With the same gradual, if-I-go-any-slower-
I’d-be-moving-backwards motion, they sidestepped several feet 
– then ran like hell.
	Their disappearance left Abbey and Sydney in the face 
of something horrible. It had to be human – or at least, they 
hoped so, –but blood, smeared across ripped gray clothes, scar 
tissue, long, tangled hair, an animalistic expression, as well as 
several leather cuirasses holding various knives, blades, two 
throwing axes, one hand-held hook-headed axe, and two types 
of sword all combined to form a disturbing image of a madman 
with far too many tools of the trade. Clipped onto his hands were 
eight long, thin, slender, almost graceful, blades that extended 
about a foot from each finger. They ended in barbed and hooked 
points, and the edges gleamed as well polished. They were 
grouped in four on each hand, one group to each hand. 
Wrapped around one, ready to be thrown, was a length of chain 
with extra links and rusty barbs. What didn’t end with spiked 
mace balls ended in hooks.
	Abbey and Sydney didn’t even try to move slowly. They 
ran like hell, each to a side.
	When the slashing sounds behind Abbey ended, she 
held the pistol properly and prayed that Syd was alright. Gritting 
her teeth, she moved back to the thing’s position.
	It was leaning against the ravaged wall – which had 
about a foot gouged through hit. Drywall and wallpaper lay in 
shredded heaps around him. It –he – was sitting, knees up, face 
buried in his hands, and was sobbing uncontrollably. Whimpers 
of misery escaped his lips. Abbey, frozen, partly in shock, partly 
in horrified fascination, partly by pity, but mostly from fear, 
heard him whimper things that might have been words.
	“I... I... I didn’t want to...” the voice broke off again into 
uncontrollable sobs.
	Abbey, fearful that he had killed Syd, glanced around. 
But down the hall, she could see Sydney looking around the 
corner, with an expression that spoke volumes about her opinion 
of Abbey’s sanity.
	“They all were going... they were gunna... they’d have... 
I didn’t want to!!” the voice was a howl of misery now.
	Abbey, concealing her disgust at the blood, slid to her 
knees. She didn’t understand why, but she felt that this person, 
could be helped and comforted.
	“You couldn’t have stopped them any other way...” she 
began, in a soothing voice. Since his outbursts were childish and 
immature, perhaps his mental level was as such.
	“I could have stopped them,” he said through tears in a 
broken voice. “I could have done anything. I could have gone ...”
	The tone was not childish now. When not seized by the 
inhuman misery, he seemed perfectly rational and intelligent – 
even urbane.
	“I don’t think there was much else. If you had attacked 
one, and not... removed him, they’d have all killed you.”
	“But, you see, I... I’m not...” he sighed.
	By degrees, he stood up. This was a complicated 
process that required a lot of unfolding in some points, since he 
was clearly very tall. Breathing heavily, he raised his clenched 
fists to the sky.
	“I am Perseus!” He bellowed.
	Without a word, he sagged. The blades fell from his 
hands.
	As if comforting a child again, Abbey put her arms 
around his waist and crooned gently soothing noises to him.
	Abbey didn’t know how long she went like this. Five 
minutes, an hour. It didn’t matter. She was dealing with a 
neurotic psychotic, so the last thing she wanted to do as upset 
him. With a lurch, he coughed, and slowly broke away.
	Rubbing his eyes, which were red-rimed and puffy, he 
picked up the blades and put them away.
	“I, I’m sorry.” Was all he managed.
	Abbey looked at him with slight disbelief.
	“I apologize for that,” he gestured at her shirtfront and 
knees. They were smeared with blood. “–I don’t get that bad, 
usually. The Rage never acts up that badly. I, I don’t...” 
something seemed to reassert itself. “Crap! The Vampire. Come 
on, we have to find that little–”
	Sydney stepped up behind him, hand raised to brain him 
with the butt of her whip.
	With almost superhuman speed, he spun around, 
grasped her wrist with one hand, rammed his shoulder under her 
armpit, wrapped the other hand around the same wrist, and 
heaved her over his shoulder. When she slammed on the 
carpeting, he gripped the back of her hand and rammed the held 
arm elbow-down on the carpet, and swung one leg over her 
chest, restraining her.
	This all happened in the time it took Abbey to breathe.
	Sydney, gasping for air, looked at the newcomer with 
new respect. This was clearly a master in his field.
	“Sorry. Savage, isn’t it?”
	Recognition flooded into Sydney’s expression.
	“Remorse?”
	“Well. I was then. It never was really my name. 
Remorse Nuviaur? No Remorse? I couldn’t believe I got away 
with that one.” he hauled her to her feet. “No, it’s Richard King.”
	“Thanks. So now what?”
	“I thought we went along the lines of, hunt down the 
vampire, nail his sorry weasel but to a wall and spend the next 
six months playing pin the drywall nails on the donkey. Call me 
a sadist.”
	“Ah... never change, friend. Are you really Perseus?” 
She asked. “You never went off like that back then.”
	“Back then was two years ago. I could buy the drugs I 
needed. This way.” He began to lead them down the hall.
	“Drugs? Was this about drugs? You’re an addict?”
	“No. Of course not. Hell no. It’s like hormone 
replacement therapy. You know how you feel at that time of the 
month? It’s like that, but a hell of a lot crabbier and bloodier.”
	“Ah. So the drugs balanced you.”
	“Yep. They weren’t really drugs. A bit of adrenaline, 
some hormones, a touch of double O negative blood, and a 
pinch of insulin. Altogether, they kept me sane. Now, with the 
imbalance, I can only think rationally under pressure for a few 
minutes at a time. Turn here.”
	“Sydney, you know this guy?”
	“Know him? Abbey, two years ago, I bought off this guy. 
When I worked back home as a narc.”
	“Narc? You were a narcotics police officer?”
	“On occasion. Freelance police work. Work’s less than 
regular, but always high-paying. Remorse, as he like to be called 
back then, used to keep tabs on every lord in the city. Used to 
beat the crap out of them if they strayed into my backyard too.”
	“Least I could do for you, little sis.”
	“Don’t tell me you’re related as well.”
	“No. It’s an affectation. Rick – do you prefer Richard or 
Rick, or what?”
	“Rick’s fine.”
	“Rick’s an orphan. Three people he knew as family. 
Dalton, the commissioner who had me hired now and again, me, 
David, and Jackson.”
	“You hear about her and David?”
	“No, what?”
	“Some lowlife bombed their car on a stakeout.”
	“They alright?”
	“No. We buried them in a shoebox. Me and Dalton. Just 
us two.”
	“Oh. Was he caught?”
	“The bomber? No. He’s presumed dead in Cairns.”
	“Presumed?”
	“Well, they only ever found little bits of him, in paper 
bags. If they find them all, they’ll release something official. 
Dalton knew I did it, but by then I was out of the country, and... 
well, he always had a rebellious streak in him.”
	“Rick!”
	“Hey, I checked him out. It was a runner. He had death 
warrants in two countries. I saved time. I do have a bounty 
hunter’s license, remember? Just through here.”
	
	Natalia grinned to the dark. Johnny’s loss of blood made 
him quiet – good thing she patched the wound properly when he 
passed out from the pain of iodine swabbing – had made him 
very quiet, and she could see Abbey and Sydney running 
towards her. A taller individual dashed alongside, matching pace 
with them both.
	“Natalia, we have got to get out of here. Deuce is in 
trouble.”
	
	20 April, 1998, 12:43 AM
	The same undefined point in the coastal waters of 
California
	
	Valerie rammed the clothes in her bag. If Natalia’s 
report was accurate, than they had to desert the yacht, and get 
out off quick. Deuce was presumably picking up irreplaceable 
objects of his own. After picking up items mentioned by the girls, 
Valerie had to grab as much of her own stuff as possible; how 
was she going to get sixteen months of Teen Hunk magazine off 
the boat? Or which posters to take?
	After ramming a favourite DiCaprio picture in her bag, 
Valerie dashed on deck to pick up her chess set. A short man 
was waiting for her.
	She assumed it was a man. He was wearing an 
environmental hazard suit, which made identification difficult. In 
one hand, he was holding a black, opaque canister.
	 “Hello.” He said. The mask muffled his voice and made 
him sound clammy, but it seemed very important that he didn’t 
take it off.
	“Uh, hello.” She said.
	“Is Deuce around?” he seemed quite nervous, come to 
think of it. Valerie decided to try bluff.
	“No. He’s not here. He evacuated when we received 
word from Natalia.”
	Behind the plastic screen, the man seemed to narrow 
his eyes, as if looking for the truth.
	“Where did he go?”
	“He said he was heading to the NSA HQ.” Valerie was 
enjoying herself. “Apparently, some nutcase was going to 
release a virus here.”
	A cold realization gripped her as she realized just what 
he held in his hand.
	“Oh. Well, farewell.” The man waddled over to the side 
of the boat and jumped off. A splash was followed by the sound 
of an engine starting, and Valerie could see the wake of the 
speedboat as it zipped away.
	“Phew.”
	
	Natalia glanced down at the controls. Within a few 
moments, she could put out the aquatic pontoons and land next 
to the yacht. The radar had just displayed a smaller target 
zipping away from the Yacht, however.
	Johnny, next to her, was trying to lean out the window 
and gawk at Natalia, and failing at both.
	“What’s that?” rumbled the deep-voiced individual from 
the back.
	“What’s what?” Natalia heard Abbey ask.
	“That.”
	The exchange was lost on the silent Russian. As she 
lowered the pontoons, she dipped the helicopter lower and 
lower, descending in a lowering spiral.
	“Natalia, there’s a speedboat heading away from the 
Yacht. Do you think it’s the Vampire?”
	Natalia considered it logically. Unlike Sydney, she was 
calm and rational, and she had a clarity of thought that Johnny 
and Abbey lacked. This made her the point of call for rational 
explanations.
	“Probably. If he just left the yacht, then the virus is out.”
	“Masks, people. What I know of that strain is that it’s 
airborne. If we don’t breath it, we don’t catch it.” Once again, the 
big fellow spoke. 
	Silently, they donned their rebreathers. Thoughts of 
mortality reared up in Natalia’s mind, but were quashed by 
logical reasoning.
	The helicopter bobbed slightly as they landed on the 
water, but when the re-breathered group leapt aboard the yacht 
– Natalia noted, in passing, the big fellow was clearly either a 
master of the blade or a wannabe like Johnny, – they found 
Valerie contentedly unpacking.
	“Valerie, what the hell is going on?”
	Valerie gave Sydney a smug smile. “I got rid of him. He 
was looking for Deuce, but I told him Deuce was in the NSA 
HQ.”
	The big fellow walked up to a wall and smacked his 
head against it.
	Natalia wordlessly got back into the helicopter.
	Johnny looked at the girls blankly.
	“Val, he’s got the Ebola virus. He’s going to go to NSA 
HQ and release it there, now.”
	“What? That’s crazy!”
	“Duh. So’s he.” The big fellow said. “Johnny, you need 
medical attention. I’m willing to bet the little twerp’s going to 
come back here, and gloat, or maybe he’ll find Deuce’s still 
here. I’ll stay here with Johnny and Val, if you three can hammer 
the Vampire.”
	Sydney and Abbey jumped back on the helicopter, 
which was already about to take off.
	“Don’t wait up for us!” Sydney hollered back at the two 
men on deck.
	
	“Ouch!!” Johnny yelped.
	“Don’t be such a girl.”
	“Agh! Hey, quit it!”
	“Alright. I’ll leave it in there.”
	“Ok, ok.” Pause. “Aren’t you going to get changed? You 
look – and smell – a bit odd in that.”
	“Probably the blood.”
	“Blood?”
	“John, I have killed a great many people using these 
blades, and blades smaller than this scalpel. I’ve liked a great 
deal of them a lot more than I have you. Don’t bug me while I’m 
working.”
	Perseus had quickly found that he really didn’t like 
Johnny. After quickly cleaning his hands and donning a pair of 
disposable gloves, he had set to work on cleaning Johnny’s 
wound. Without anesthesia.
	A brief lance of pain ran through Johnny again, and he 
grunted involuntarily. There was a horrible moment in which he 
felt the bullet being pulled from its temporary home, and finally, 
a brief ping noise as it was dropped in the metal tray.
	“Val, could you get me a bit of morphine?”
	“Yes, sir.” Pause. “Here, sir.”
	“Thank you. Johnny, look, turtles!”
	Johnny’s head snapped to the left, where Perseus was 
indicating. Suddenly, a second lance of pain ran into his arm. 
“Yow!”
	“Don’t worry. That’ll dull the pain.”
	“Didn’t seem to bother you before.”
	“Johnny, if I had put the morphine into you before I 
removed the bullet, you would have relaxed. Since the bullet is 
wedged between the triceps and biceps, when both muscles are 
relaxed, you would have been hiding the bullet from me. That 
would have made it a bit harder for me to get the bullet out. You 
wouldn’t have felt it, but it would have been painful. You would 
have also taken longer to heal. Trust me, I’ve done this before.”
	“You’re a doctor?” Val asked.
	“No. Didn’t stop me then.” He laughed shortly. “Val, 
needle and suture.”
	“Here.”
	“Thanks. Now, Johnny, the thing is, we have to have 
you on your feet quickly. I know the Vampire’s MO, and I know 
that he’s going to check for Deuce. He won’t waste a weapon 
like the Ebola virus just to take out the better part of NSA. He’d 
make sure he had Deuce. Sponge.”
	“Here.”
	“Thanks. No, I think the pus-pit is going to be here within 
a day or so. I hope so, at least.”
	“You done yet?”
	“Almost. Scissors?”
	“Here.”
	“Thank you. Yep, last one. You’ll have one hell of a 
scar. I doubt it’ll impress anyone present, but it’ll be useful when 
we ID your corpse.”
	“Thanks. I think.”
	Perseus straightened up. “Val, does Deuce have 
anything that might fit me?”
	“I’ll go and ask him.” With that, Val left.
	“Well, well, Barracuda.” Perseus stretched out his arms 
and rolled down his tattered sleeves. “I don’t suppose you have 
any spare clothes.” There was no hope or expectation in the 
statement.
	Johnny gave the man an honestly speculative look. 
“Nope. You’re about a head taller. You’re also built on different 
lines. Deuce might, and Natalia might.”
	“She really that tall?”
	“I’ve never seen her stand up straight, but she’s as tall 
as me most of the time. And she’s got long legs.”
	“Ah Johnny. Where would your identification skills be 
without your libido?”
	Johnny actually laughed at that.
	“So. What’s your story?” Perseus asked.
	“Me? I’m a CIA liaison. I do the Danger Girl operation 
favours, they give the CIA a cut of the fruits of their labors. Most 
of the time it’s hunting down terrorists, and the CIA gets the 
credit. And you?”
	“Me? I’m ANZTARD’s, the SES’, and ASIO’s little screw 
up. I was meant to tick along the lines of a soldier, but when 
puberty hit, the hormone imbalance screwed me up. They 
responded by doping me up to the eyeballs. One day, someone 
screwed up the medication dosages. I killed three security 
guards with my bare hands, then ran like hell. As I remember, I 
used my medication to knock out some scientists who were 
watching me.” he sighed.
	“Since then, I was on the run. First I worked in 
Queensland and New South Wales as a freelance crimebuster, 
then Syd and I ran into each other; she worked freelance, I did 
the digging. Together, we won the war against Asian imported 
drugs and a lot of backyard stuff. Then, when she went abroad, 
two of my best friends were killed. I killed their killer, then ran. 
Thanks to my bounty hunter’s license, if I get caught, I’ll be able 
to claim deadly force – he did pull a flick-knife, – and get off. I 
just am too busy.
	“During ’91, I was in Iraq, and was instrumental in 
placing a half-dozen US-registered tracers, and sabotaging 
several chemical warheads. Thanks to that, I was labeled a 
terrorist by the Iraqi government. My dumb luck also meant that, 
when I went to the US, my reputation preceded me. Despite the 
fact that I have yet to do a thing in the US, I’m wanted as The 
King Of Blades.
	“I worked for NSA for a while, got sick of it, vanished 
one day, moved on to working for the border patrols. Caught a 
few illegal aliens. Moved north once more, all the way to 
Canada. Developed my survival skills. Went on to Alaska. While 
there, I grew very proficient with these,” He gestured at his 
knives. “– and then, moving down the panhandle, I nipped 
through British Columbia, came up in Oregon, went east to 
Michigan, headed south to Montana, then went all the way to 
New York. There, I picked up the whole blade get out. NSA 
contacts had erased the King Of Blades. I hear about this fellow 
the Vampire. I follow his trail for six months. He vanishes in 
South Dakota. I cross the Atlantic to Germany. Spent some time 
there. Shifted over to Japan, spent a while there. Then, went 
into Russia, did some work for the KGB. When I got sick of the 
frozen north, I moved down into Germany again. There, I found 
the Vampire once more.
	“He’d blown up a gas main in the a slum area of 
Hamburg. Fifteen hundred dead, more injured. I chased the little 
maggot all the way to Delaware; where I lost him again.
	“Just last week, I heard of his whereabouts. In 
Washington. I went to Olympia, found him, and tailed him to 
California. That’s where we bump into each other.”
	“I can’t find Deuce.” Val said, walking into the room. 
“I’ve got these, though.” She tossed a pair of pants and a white 
short-sleeved T-shirt to him. “The sweater’s Syd’s, but the pants 
are Deuce’s. I figured they’d fit you.”
	“Thank you. Excuse me, you two.” He walked out of the 
room.
	
	When he stepped into the room again, he had 
undergone a transformation.
	While the white T-shirt, Sydney’s, was not really suited 
for him, and the jeans were just a little too short and a little too 
wide at the waist, Perseus had done something else.
	For a start, he had overlaid on the shirt his leather 
cross-belt, which displayed a formidable rack of twelve throwing 
daggers, two throwing axes, a hand-axe at his waist, two swords 
crossed at his back, the claws he had worn before on his wrists, 
pivoted to be harmless, a length of chain, and he had cut his 
hair. Using a very sharp knife, apparently, he had sliced off the 
blood-stained, shoulder-length blond locks, trimming them to be 
just below his ears in length, and had cleaned and shaved his 
face.
	Somewhere while searching the ship, he had found a 
pair of sunglasses and a brown leather jacket which he was 
wearing over the cross-belt. Valerie recognized these 
accessories as Deuce’s. 
	All in all, except for the aforementioned sizing of the 
jeans and the fact he still wore his old muddy boots, he looked 
quite the part for an affiliate of the Danger Girl Operation, 
Valerie thought.
	Having spent the past ten minutes in the presence of 
Johnny ‘The Barracuda’, her conversation had deteriorated and 
her brain was at the point in the teenage crush-presence scale 
best defined as mush, the previous stage being putty, the next 
stage being incoherence.
	“Hey, you two. Deuce isn’t on board. I checked.”
	“You sure? There are bits on this boat you may not know 
about.”
	Perseus gave Johnny a flat look.
	“I checked.” He said evenly.
	“Right, right.” Johnny realized he had just irritated a very 
big person with a lot of knives.
	Valerie’s gaze swept over Perseus, and she was 
snapped out of the pink clouds. A few swift mental jumps led to 
one conclusion. “Hypoglycemic?”
	“Yep.” Perseus said. “That and a few other things.”
	“What do you need?”
	“Food. Food, and some insulin, type O negative blood, a 
certain set of behavior-modifying hormone replacement 
supplements, and some adrenaline. Hypoglycemia’s easy to 
deal with, but the medical condition dubbed Perseutic Hormonal 
Imbalaced Neurosis is a little harder to abate.”
	“That a real ailment?”
	“Yes. Unfortunately, it’s very localized. First and only 
human being to get it.”
	“Serious?”
	“Yes. They classified PHIN at the facility.”
	“So. Food. I’ll see if there’s everything you need in the 
infirmary supplies. Mr. Barracuda?”
	“Johnny.”
	“Uh, ok,” she smiled and blushed, and hoped it wasn’t 
noticed by either man. “Could you, um, scout around the ship? 
See if you can find anything?”
	“Sure.” He smiled at her, having a similar effect to a 
6,000 megawatt lightbulb on a dollop of hot wax. Valerie left the 
room, flustered and clumsy.
	Perseus and Johnny exchanged glances.
	
	Natalia guided the helicopter over the NSA’s pad. 
Easing it down, she felt the helicopter buck slightly as it landed. 
	The girls piled out, each wearing rebreathers; since they 
had radioed ahead, the three NSA personnel at the pad were 
also wearing biological hazard suits. Wordlessly, the girls 
approached them.
	Just as silently, the masked men shook their heads.
	Natalia thought she heard Abbey curse through her 
rebreather, quite a feat, considering that the rebreather cut off 
almost all verbal contact.
	Quick signals and sign language helped along with a 
pad indicated that the girls were going to go back to the boat. 
After all, the men reasoned, the NSA was the heart of the 
security of what was probably the most important nation on 
earth. The Vampire was not going to get anywhere inside the 
perimeter, and he was going to get nailed if he tried.
	Once again, the girls quietly got back into the helicopter 
as Natalia began the short ride home.
	Natalia’s expression betrayed nothing. Behind her eyes, 
however, a storm of questions brewed.
	Why did Perseus send them out when he knew the NSA 
was a highly secure area? Why not just radio ahead? Why did 
they do it? Why were they all obeying him? Did he want to be on 
the boat alone with Deuce and Johnny? Was he all he was 
cracked up to be? Was he dangerous? Who, she thought, was 
he?
	
	“Deuce!” Johnny hollered. “Deuce, where the hell are 
you?”
	“He’s not here. I’ve made it clear.” Perseus stated, 
matter-of-factly.
	“How can you be so sure?” Valerie asked.
	“Which and in what order?”
	“Pardon?”
	“Fine. One, I can only smell you and me and Johnny on 
the boat. Two, us three are the only noises I’ve heard on the 
boat. Three, Every room we’ve been in has been meticulously 
neat, with the exception of the infirmary and,” –he gave Valerie 
a pointed look– “Valerie’s room. Four, none of the things in his 
room have been disturbed, obviously; but, on closer inspection, 
some areas, such as desktops or his bedside table, display an 
uncommon lack of  symmetry, disturbed dust, and so on, which 
indicates he has taken things with him.”
	“Anything else?”
	“Lots more, but they’re the most conclusive.”
	“Smell?”
	“The human olfactory is a powerful device, Johnny. With 
the right training, anyone can smell it. You and I both smell a lot 
of blood, Val has a slightly soapy smell, with overtones of 
mustiness, which probably indicates that she sits still for 
extended periods of time, in rooms with a lot of electrical 
equipment inside.”
	“There is no way you can smell all that.”
	“Johnny, you wear an Australian export deodorant and 
aftershave; Lynx, Africa and Java respectively. Do I need to go 
on?”
	Valerie grinned quietly.
	
	The Vampire grinned. The shock-trooper had lured them 
away from the boat perfectly! Barracuda was still aboard; and so 
was the younger girl. However, Barracuda was wounded, and 
the girl would be of minimal concern.
	Clinging to the side of the boat, he began his gangly 
progress up the side of the craft.
	
	“Now. Do people believe me here? I said he’s not here. 
You’ve searched the whole place, and found nothing. Do I need 
to draw you a picture?”
	“We had to be sure.” Johnny was exasperated. Where 
could Deuce be?
	“When I say something, I don’t say it till I am sure.” 
Perseus’ tone was deadly.
	“Sugar intake?”
	“No.”
	“Oh. Ok, I suppose we should learn to trust you on that 
one.”
	“Why?” Johnny was suddenly belligerent. “Why should 
we? Who the hell are you? Why are you here? First time I see 
you, you’re chasing Abbey and Syd onto a helicopter, now you’re 
ordering us around! I want to know why!”
	Perseus gave Johnny a flat look. Clearly, this outburst, 
and the deadly silence, indicated that Johnny was on dangerous 
ground. After a quiet moment, in which you could hear the air 
creak, Perseus reached to his chest and removed the jacket. 
Following that, he removed his cross-belt, and dropped the 
claws. After this, he removed from the arms of the jacket, some 
concealed pads of some metal that hugged his forearms. Five 
concealed knives appeared out of various hiding spots. A dirk 
came from his boot. Finally, a pin-thin, foot long spike of steel 
was pulled from the hem of the left sleeve of his – Deuce’s – 
jacket, which crowned the pile.
	With a heavy clatter, these metal constructions of pain 
were dropped. Perseus stood, wearing a wrong-sized pair of 
pants, and a woman’s shirt. Looking Johnny in the eye, he 
stepped forward. 
	“Take it.”
	“Whaat?” Johnny managed.
	“You want to hit me. You have one chance, now, to do 
it. I cannot guarantee that I will be so gracious some other time.”
	“You – you want me to hit you?”
	“No. I am giving you the chance to.”
	Johnny’s brain whirled.
	“I can’t work with your head clouded. Take the punch, 
and we can get on with this.”
	Johnny could only see one way out of this improbable 
fog of confounding information. Winding up with his left hand, he 
lashed out and cracked his fist on Perseus’ jaw.
	If he felt it, he didn’t show it. Without blinking or moving 
his head, Perseus turned to the door. “Come on. We have to 
find what he took.”
	Johnny, having only just recovered from the punching 
fiasco, gave him a bewildered look.
	Turning his head, Perseus looked back at Johnny and 
Valerie. “Deuce is gone, and he went for a reason. He took 
something with him. Something important. Everything else he 
took with him is misinformation. There is something here that he 
doesn’t want the Vampire to get, and by taking several things, 
he’s probably going to put the little chimp into the perspective 
that he didn’t take it, or, more properly, it wasn’t really important. 
But he’d have left the remaining items somewhere they wouldn’t 
be noticed, so the Vampire won’t realize they’re not gone, and 
so will classify them as not being the important thing. Deuce has 
taken something important that the Vampire’s employers want.”
	Val and Johnny looked at him, speechless.
	“Come on.”
	“How do you know all this?”
	“Ask me no hows and I’ll ask you no whys. Come on.”
	“Where do we look?”
	“Somewhere where things out of place are in place and 
a mess is normal. Come on Val, which one is your room again?”
	
	Finally up on deck, the Vampire tiptoed past the open 
door, where that mountain of meat was taking care of that 
belligerent buffoon, John Barracuda. Holding his breath and 
moving up against a wall for a moment, he waited for the pair to 
finish their altercation; while they seemed to be occupied, he 
quickly dashed across the doorway.
	Damn this Deuce character. Of all his targets, he was 
probably going to be the slipperiest. Time to plant what needed 
to be and get out of here.
	The familiar specter of paranoia fueled his almost 
preternatural silence as he moved towards what was probably 
the perfect place to hide something...
	
	Natalia spotted the shadow flitting on the deck as she 
circled in for landing. Once again, the girls donned their masks 
and prepared for the worst; that the Danger Yacht, and 
everywhere within sixty miles, was now populated by a semi-
permanent deadly virus.
	Natalia climbed on board, followed by Sydney and 
Abbey. Signaling that they split up, Natalia stepped around the 
deck to the starboard side.
	
	Throughout the history of popular culture, there has 
always been the ‘old shell game’. The game was never new. It’s 
always old. It always involves some kind of hidden object being 
concealed thanks to the motions of the containers... while only 
one of them actually has it.
	Johnny, Val and Perseus are searching Val’s room. 
Natalia, Abbey, and Sydney are quietly and quickly searching 
the boat. The Vampire is quietly searching the boat. Deuce is 
nowhere. Watch carefully now...
	Round and round and round they go...
	
	Vampire trotted up to the prow and pulled the latch on 
the canvas locker. While the boat didn’t really need one, it had a 
canvas locker anyway. Swinging the big door open, he hopped 
inside, dragging it closed behind him.
	
	Abbey ducked under the boom. Where is that guy? 
Hauling herself up, she braced her legs and dropped down to the 
deck and opened the door to that room where, only a million 
years ago, it seemed, she had awakened with torn trousers to 
the sound of Val and Syd squabbling... 
	
	Sydney opened the door to the Deuce’s room. It seems 
that someone has done a very unprofessional search. While the 
room wasn’t ransacked, it was certainly picked through for the 
obvious places...
	
	Natalia opened the door to the infirmary. Nothing; but a 
large pile of weapons lie on the ground. Very good ones... A 
master’s...
	
	“Dear god, Val this is a mess.”
	“I agree with knife-man here.”
	“Hey! I clean it.”
	“Annually?”
	So far, a small pile of what could best be described as 
bits and pieces was heaped in the center of the room; most of it, 
Val could identify as Deuce’s or as not hers.
	“Well... here we go.” Perseus said, reaching into it.
	
	Abbey glanced around. TV on, a few bits and pieces 
lying around. Typical of when Val was alone, or at least, alone 
with Deuce. Nothing seemed out of order here.
	
	Natalia grinned almost joyfully at these weapons; good 
temper, some better balanced than her own. Truly, a collection 
worth a great deal of money. Sorting through it, she found a dirk, 
of all things, and a handless foil; someone had gone to a great 
deal of trouble to make easily concealed weapons. Then why 
leave them here?
	 Shrugging, she tested out the foil; the owner had 
welded some solder and silver to the part best described as a 
handle; the balance was wonderful.
	
	Sydney adjusted her mask and checked the bed and 
drawers. Yes, something was missing.
	
	“So. That’s it?”
	“Yes. Absolutely. The only thing I can’t find on the boat, 
and the only thing not here.”
	“He took it with him?”
	“Yes.”
	“Good.” Perseus grinned. “Let’s get out and get some 
fresh air. I think we have company.”
	
	Abbey heard a creak...
	Whirling just too late, she saw the door slam. A brief 
flurry of activity from behind the door indicated something was 
closing it in a rather terminal way.
	
	Sydney looked at the canvas locker. Funny. The pin was 
out.
	Moving over to it, she had just enough time to mumble 
‘gnhi...’ as it cracked into her jaw.
	The Vampire hauled himself out and grinned. So much 
for the Danger Girls.
	
	Perseus, Johnny and Val, moving in a reversed V, with 
Val at the rear, moved slowly along the deck. Nothing seemed 
out of place.
	There was the sudden noise of a seldom-used hinge 
being opened far quicker than normal, and a pair of thumps, with 
about a half-second between the two.
	Johnny was at Sydney’s side before the door had swung 
shut.
	“The maggot was hiding in the canvas locker! I’m going 
after him!” Johnny snarled.
	“Johnny, that... oh, never mind. Go ahead. Val; go to 
your room and lock the door.”
	Silently, Val ran back to down the deck, her boots 
making thuds against the boards.
	
	Natalia heard the thuds; four sets; one of them was 
coming by the door; and the tread was not one she knew.
	Dropping to her knees, she waited silently. The tread 
came closer and closer; closer, until finally –
	There was the noise like breath on silk, and she rammed 
the foil into the leg.
	
	Thump number five. Perseus ran down the side of the 
deck. 
	The Vampire was lying on his face, with some girl 
wearing a rebreather kneeling on his back, and his pineedle 
rammed into the back of his knee.
	“Hey!”
	She turned, quickly, startled. Through the green glass, 
her eyes widened, and she leapt to her feet, and ran down the 
deck.
	“Women. I just have this affect on them.” He explained 
to the burbling Vampire.
	“-”
	“Of course. I’ve got you now, you diseased little pustule. 
I know who hired you, where is he?”
	“Ebola.”
	“Nice place. Went there last year for my holidays.”
	“No. I had a canister of it in my jacket. She... she broke 
it open when she  tackled me!”
	Perseus looked briefly at the gangly man’s chest. A 
spreading stain paid testament to the broken flask of liquid.
	“Oh sh–”
	The word was not completed, probably because 
someone had thumped him on the back of the head.
	
	Abbey tried the door again. Nothing. Dammit!!
	She pulled the pistol from its holster. Well, whoever was 
going to open that door was probably the person who locked it; 
and he, or indeed, she, would have some explaining to do.
	
	Limping and giggling, the Vampire dragged his leg along 
the deck, with the support of the shocktrooper. Easily fooled. A 
bit of water on the deck, a stain on a silk shirt; like he’d carry the 
Ebola in a breakable container.
	
	Perseus lifted himself to his feet. Whoever hit him would 
have hell to pay. The food had abated his hypoglycemia, but he 
could still feel a fire in his bones that had nothing to do with 
sugar.
	 The little pin-prick Val had given him earlier was good; 
it had served. He was feeling better; but when he had a 
headache, insulin could go hang. First stop, just inside to get the 
cross-belt and the kathra blades, and then he would go after that 
flea and get the information he needed, once and for all.
	
	Sydney came to, groggily, and realized she was being 
constricted. Something was wrapped around her.
	A thick rope from the canvas locker bound her tightly, 
and a thick length rubbed at her mouth. Next to her, she could 
see Johnny, and Natalia, without her rebreather.
	Then it struck her. Her rebreather had been removed.
	“Thit.” She mumbled through the thick cable.
	“Oh, Ms. Savage, how wonderful of you to join us. Now, 
would you be so good as to quail in fear? I explained the 
importance of quailing to your friends here, but they seem 
reluctant to join in. I am the villain, after all, and I have the 
super-weapon. The wonderful news is, however, at least for me, 
is that you have no-one to help you out. After all, anyone tries to 
get to the canister, it opens. Anyone tries to untie you, it opens. 
It’s a neat little system. I suspect that you needn’t bother with 
theatrics, like ‘you won’t get away with this,’ since I will. The big 
man was just dispatched by my friend here, and two doors have 
been locked shut from the inside; I’m of the mind that things like 
that happen because the person inside is a bit too weak to be 
any use. So.”
	A few seconds passed.
	“Where is he?”
	“Th?” Sydney asked.
	“Deuce. I think that’s his name.”
	“Thuth ith hfthng.”
	“Missing?” Vampire leaned closer. “Is that what you’re 
saying?”
	“Th.”
	 The Vampire bit his lip in obvious deep thought.
	Standing up, he walked to the trooper. “Guard them. 
Don’t let them move at all. If they’re uncomfortable, too bad. If 
she’s looking winsome, too bad. Do not let them get your guard 
down. That Savage girl is a survivalist, and by that, she usually 
stops other people surviving, especially if they’re in your 
position. Do not let anything happen. Or I’ll tie you to Deuce 
when I give him the virus.”
	As he waddled away, Sydney looked at the canister. It 
was resting on a metal plate, with four springs underneath it. 
Each was attached to a simple mechanism that would spin the 
canister up in the air, and considering that it was less of a 
canister and more of a glass jar with an inch of clear liquid in the 
bottom and a lid tightly screwed on, that made keeping it intact a 
priority. It was balanced rather precariously on the middle of the 
plate; she could see that upsetting the balance would trigger off 
one of the springs.
	For that matter, the spur-of-the-moment alterations to 
her borrowed outfit had been none to clean-cut, and now the 
impromptu hems were scratching at her midriff.
	But the trooper had an alert manner, and she figured 
that wriggling would result in her death.
	
	Abbey kicked at the door a few times. It was stubbornly 
refusing to open. What the hell was going on on this boat?
	
	Perseus flipped himself over the side. The kathra, even 
when swiveled back, constricted his hands, and made gripping 
things a chore. He had been really sloppy the past few months. 
He hadn’t had more than ten minutes on his own in which to 
administer to his weapons. In fact, he’d bet that his pineedle was 
about as blunt as a spoon on the sides.
	Perseus often let his mind wonder. It seldom had a 
whole lot of fun inside his head and body, which were 
inconvenient containers which did a lot of inconvenient and 
pointless work. Instead, it roamed around and had fun worrying 
about silly and unimportant things while his body got on with 
whatever it was doing.
	In his own mind, Perseus was in rotten shape by his 
usual standards. Since thirteen, he could lift, strain, press, pump 
and haul his own body weight and more. He had spent so much 
time after the Vampire that his usual muscle had waned.
	In truth, however, he was in phenomenal shape. He 
could had chewed up Johnny and spat him out. His muscle, 
however, was not the sort of body-building beefcake style, but of 
the well-toned, well built muscle that showed someone caring for 
their body, but not someone built like a carpet tack. Which is 
why lifting his own huge 140 pound frame along the sides of the 
boat was not difficult in the least.
	After five minutes of grunting, he was directly behind the 
trooper, where he launched himself upward with barely a sound, 
blades swiveled backwards.
	
	Three minutes of grunting and pummeling later...
	
	Perseus yanked off Sydney’s ropes, then the pair of 
them released Johnny and Natalia.
	“Any problems with that one?”
	“Rick, just don’t bump that jar!”
	“This – ohsh–” Perseus’ expletive was interrupted by the 
tinkling of glass.
	“Uh-oh.”
	“What is it?”
	“That was the virus!”
	“No it’s not. It’s already out.”
	“What?”
	“When the blonde chick tackled him, the whole jar just 
smashed in his jacket... and...” he trailed off.
	Natalia didn’t trail off. She took a defensive stance, 
whipped out two daggers and set her feet.
	“Kassle.” Perseus said, formally.
	“Stovich.”
	“It’s King. Really.”
	“Hello? You two? Time out! We have something 
important to do here!” Johnny yelled.
	“Why? We’re dead anyway, no matter which was the 
virus.”
	“So’s he! Natalia’s ripped his suit!”
	A grin spread, slowly, across Perseus’ face. “I think I’ll 
give him a helping hand...”
	
	The Vampire ran like hell. He’d heard the crash behind 
him, and he also heard the clash of glass. And, any minute now, 
the Virus would get to him in his poorly-made and mostly for 
show biosuit. Especially badly made, since that blonde witch had 
rammed a spike into his leg.
	The tourniquet was working loose. He adjusted it while 
hobbling, and prepared to leap over the side.
	The animal roar behind him signaled that he hadn’t 
much time.
	Chancing a look behind him, he saw Perseus, running 
like a steam train, eyes red, teeth bared and those horrible 
hooks he wore on his hands extended.
	This was not the first time the Vampire had had this 
happen to him, and not the first time by this same individual. As 
soon as he was within striking range of his attacker, he curled 
into a ball and rolled to the side.
	
	Perseus let out a quiet ‘ngff...’ as he pinwheeled over 
the rail, and making a combined thud and splash as he landed.
	
	Natalia was smarter, however.
	Diving from the side, she grabbed at the little man 
without her normal finesse. Within a second she had a light 
throwing knife in her hand, and –
	The Vampire’s foot hit her in the jaw. While he didn’t 
have momentum and he didn’t have muscle, he did have a 
whole lot of panic, adrenaline, and cold survivalist fear in his 
system, which made the blow almost supernatural in strength. 
Natalia’s head smacked the deck shortly before the knife 
clattered next to her hand.
	
	Sydney watched.
	Sydney thought.
	Sydney ran.
	
	The trooper slowly rose to his feet, groaning. 
	
	Sydney turned suddenly. That thump-splash 
combination...
	A speedboat! Perseus must have hit the boat!
	Sydney ran towards the deck where Rick had fallen. 
After lashing it to a bolt on the side, she threw her whip over the 
side (and hoping like hell that it was an actual whip, not just a 
rather disgusting prop,) and shouted down to him.
	“Perseus! You there?”
	A thin trail of bubbles paid testament to Perseus’ 
probable condition.
	“Dammit!”
	Sydney leapt over the side.
	
	Natalia pulled herself up to her elbows. That little 
maggot could kick, alright. Unfortunately, Natalia was made of 
sterner stuff.
	Unfortunate for the Vampire.
	Natalia picked up the knife and stood up. As she came 
to her feet, she looked up–
	Straight into the gun barrel.
	
	The relative silence which lay upon this hectic scene 
was shattered by a single, explosive blast of noise. A few 
moments pass, in which the silence resumes its steady position. 
Once more, a blanket of absolute quiet soaks the open sea.
	
	Val had enough of this. She just had an idea, and 
besides, she’d just heard another door open – as well as a 
gunshot. Since that Vampire guy was alone and probably 
unarmed – if he’d held the gun, she reasoned, it’d be only half-
chance he didn’t shoot his own nose off, – so the shot was 
probably Abbey finishing the job off.
	Opening the door, she walked around the side of the 
deck, towards the much maligned chess set.
	She took in the sight – Perseus lying flat on his back, 
soaked to the skin, Sydney treading on his chest, and the 
chessboard.
	“What happened?”
	She’d gotten to the ‘wh’ when Sydney had leapt up with 
her whip in hand.
	“Sorry. Val, get back in your room. We’re in trouble.”
	“Abbey probably just shot him.”
	“We can’t find Abbey. He had a shocktrooper with him, 
and he was armed. That’s what the gunshot was. The trooper 
was here, but he’s gone. I had to drag this fool all the length of 
the boat to get him on board. Damn, he is heavy.”
	Val looked at Sydney’s nails. They had scratches and 
cuts all over them, which all paid testament to the places where 
she had tried to grab Perseus somewhere that was alright for 
both modesty and safety.
	Yep, she was observant, alright. Yesiree. Observant. 
She saw it all. She could see, while Deuce couldn’t that there 
was no move on that board that would get him out of the 
checkmate.
	A part of Val’s brain that had been screaming and raving 
for attention penetrated the pink clouds of smugness and 
rammed her face towards the chessboard.
	The queen Deuce had been using had moved three 
spaces to the right. Knight takes, same situation again... but 
pawn takes knight, blocks rook...
	Val’s brain stopped the chess and began the real world. 
And Val’s mouth, just catching up, said a few choice words.
	
	The Vampire grunted, pulling on the door. Damn thing 
wouldn’t open! Desperately, he clamped his wiry, now gloveless 
hands on the handle.
	He’d hoped, just hoped, that they’d be fooled. That that 
damnable bloodhound, King, would just once screw up. Just 
once, could that behemoth have tripped and fallen on a knife? 
Or have not knocked over the jar?
	Now the bluff was up, both of them, and he was against 
a group of people who were playing like they had nothing to 
lose.
	And that Savage bat! After being chased for four years, 
he knew how Perseus thought; and he knew, thanks to many 
indirect run-ins and the endless sea of information that circled in 
the underground world, more or less how Savage thought.
	Two of them.
	The thought gave him the shivers.
	The handle was definitely not moving.
	The next handle, however, worked.
	And he dived inside.
	
	Johnny shook his head. What happened? He 
remembered Perseus running at the Vampire, going over the 
side, Natalia getting booted, his own frantic attempt at a stealthy 
outflanking maneuver, he’d heard the gunshot and abandoned 
stealth, ran around the corner, and then a door had hit him in the 
face.
	Now he was getting up, with a sore nose and stars in 
front of his eyes...
	And a great black hole that filled his universe.
	The hole was in the end of a metal tube, attached to a 
conventional compressed-gunpowder-and-detonative-charge 
contained projectile combustion system, in this specific case, 
designed to fire a light explosive round.
	Also known as a gun, or in this case, a concussion rifle.
	Johnny had been in this situation before. So many 
people wanted to kill him these days, he reflected.
	“Come on.” The shocktrooper said, with deadly quiet.
	
	Perseus and Sydney moved quietly, like big cats, down 
the port deck.
	The similarities were more than you’d think. For starters, 
both have hands (or paws) that end in horrible sharp things 
designed to inflict pain. One didn’t like getting wet. There was 
also the tendency to inflict horrible and sudden pain and injury to 
people who disturbed them.
	Moving slowly and quietly, they totally missed the most 
important development of the night.
	Well, Sydney did.
	
	Val shut the door behind her. There was very little time 
to waste. If Perseus was right, and the important thing was in 
here, which she still didn’t have a clue about, then she had to 
find it – in this mess, – and get it out there to Sydney.
	Under the bed. That’s where he’d put it. After all, she 
remembered, Deuce had remarked once that the only people 
who had gone under her bed had glowed so brightly they’d been 
able to read in the dark without a nightlight after that. And that 
everything she’d ever pulled out of it emitted a barely audible 
hum. Just as she bent over to look into the depths of hell, which, 
to any adolescent of either gender, was composed of her own 
junk, a hand wrapped around her neck.
	It as thin, wiry, and she could hear what was probably 
the yellow plastic of a ruined biosuit moving around behind her.
	“Now, now. You’re not going to make me strangle you 
by screaming, are you?”
	
	The pair of Australians reached the prow again.
	“Where the hell is he?” Perseus said. “We’ve been 
around this yacht four times and we can’t find the little wart.”
	Sydney sat on the canvas locker. Even though she’d 
been cracked in the head with it, she still felt that it had no 
personal animosity, so she felt quite okay sitting there.
	“Mr. King, Ms. Savage, would you both be so good as to 
stand up and put your hands in the air? Not you, Mr. King, you 
drop the Cuisinarts.” The reedy voice did its best attempt at 
booming. “I have young Valerie here, and I doubt you are really 
so heartless as to have me kill her just to kill me.”
	Perseus grudgingly removed the kathra’s. They clattered 
as they hit the deck.
	The pair stood there, arms raised like a pair of gym 
instructors who’ve forgotten the next step.
	Then, Perseus, grinning, lowered his arms.
	“I said, raise your arms!” shrieked the midget. As if to 
reaffirm his threat, he clutched at Val’s throat. She gasped.
	“Vampire, you forget. I have no attachments. I would 
like to have gotten your employer, but I’ll settle for making your 
last week on earth a living hell. I don’t need special instruments. 
You’d be amazed what you can do with a simple knife...”
	His hand was a blur. The knife whizzed towards the 
Vampire’s knees. 
	There was, however, a slight failing to the plan.
	The Vampire was quicker than he looked, and had 
spread his legs in a split second to allow the knife through, 
where it buried itself half-way along the blade in the wood.
	Perseus grinned.
	“Oops.”
	Val’s sneakered heel crunched painfully into the center 
of the male psyche, causing the male in question to fold into a 
shape resembling a boomerang.
	“Ta-da! And that, Syd, is how we do it. Get him!”
	Val was the first on the scene. The Vampire’s fear, 
however, overtook his pain (and, by gum did it have to be quick) 
and he began a very bizarre kind of jog that involved keeping 
his thighs together.
	Running down the side of the boat, six feet steadily 
thudding behind him on the varnished wood deck, he came to 
the end of the main body of the cabin.
	And ran into Natalia, Johnny and Deuce, who was 
wearing the shocktrooper’s outfit, minus the helmet, coming the 
other way.
	“Uh-oh...” he mumbled.
	Sandwiched between the two vengeful groups, he began 
to find the median position, which, either fortunately, or 
unfortunately, was in front of a door.
	“Stop!” He said, frantically whipping a small jar from his 
clothes.
	“This is the real virus! The other two were fakes! Just 
water! I’ll open it! I swear I will!”
	Deuce raised a hand. Everyone stopped, except 
Perseus. For a moment, red hatred blazed in his eyes – then 
faded as he, too stopped. Sydney did notice that he had put 
himself first in line for a crack at the little bugger’s skull.
	 “Now, I want a–”
	“Perseus, did you get it?” Deuce asked.
	“Yes.”
	“What?” The Vampire asked. His trump card, it seemed, 
wasn’t being taken seriously.
	“I’ve got it.” Perseus went on. “I wish you’d have been a 
bit quicker with it, though.”
	“Everything has its due course, Richard. Now. Vampire, 
both Perseus and I are aware of the virus’ true location. It’s not 
in that jar. You and I and Perseus and now the girls all know it.”
	The Vampire wore a look like a card player who has 
found all the aces missing from his marked deck. He looked 
frantically at the imposing mountain of muscle and blade that 
was Perseus.
	Perseus merely grinned grimly and nodded. Instead of 
saying nothing, which is easy, he didn’t say anything, which is 
like an aural abscess, which sucks at the brain like a toothache 
and makes thought difficult.
	“And, Perseus, if you would be so good, oh, thank you,” 
Deuce nodded as Perseus reached into his large – and wet – 
crossbelt, to drag out a sodden leather lump in which something 
bulged. “we have your precious virus here. If Perseus is as good 
as he thinks he is–”
	“Be nice,” Rick protested mildly.
	“–He’ll have had the little timer on it rather thoroughly 
screwed. So, my friend, if that rather well-sealed and strong jar 
contains any more of the virus, well... it’s not going to do you 
any good.”
	The Vampire bit his lip. He had never gone in for this 
sort of thing. But once in a while, he looked his own weasel-
faced soul in the face and realized how little he had to live for. 
Deep within his rat-like self, he made the choice.
	“There’s enough in here. The bomb held most. This jar 
holds enough. I can have it open in seconds. Not even that 
mountain of meat can get to me that quickly, and besides, I 
don’t think you’d think I’d do it. So I will. And I know that gun is a 
pulse rifle that would shatter this container as well as my 
ribcage, so don’t bother trying to hit me with it, unless you really 
don’t mind dying.”
	“Ah yes, the last desperate bid. Well, Vampire, I 
suppose I have to play my trump card.” With a single motion, 
Deuce raised the technically useless weapon and fired a single 
round into the air.
	
	And then, the conjurer lifts the cups, and shows that the 
pebble is in fact, just here...
	
	From behind the door the Vampire was backed up to, 
six gunshots were fired, all out through the thin metal door.
	Two punched through the already-damaged leg, one 
through the shoulder, another bullet lanced through his heel, and 
the last two blasted through him at waist level and below.
	As he folded up, he screamed horrendously, the jar 
rolling from his hand and under Deuce’s booted foot.
	Where he, as simply as if it were a soccerball, rolled it 
onto his foot, popped it upward, did two perfect schoolyard 
keepie-uppies, and caught it on the third time.
	Abbey opened the door, which was hindered somewhat 
by the blood-soaked heap that was the Vampire, clutching her 
smoking pistol. 
	“Did I miss anything?”
	
	20 April, 1998, 9:12 AM
	The same undefined point in the coastal waters of 
California
	
	The worst part, Abbey, supposed, had been the 
explanations. Johnny had wanted to know who clobbered him, 
Val wanted to know how she had known what to do, Natalia had 
wanted to kill Richard, Sydney wanted to know why they had to 
do it the way they did it, and she, she had to admit, had wanted 
to know how they got the timing right.
	“You see, Deuce and I were in on it from the start.” 
Perseus had said “He understood that I was the wildcard, so he 
told you that. But, just after you had left, I contacted Duncan, 
who contacted Deuce through that damn pineapple of his. After 
a quick bit of information haggling, we came to a conclusion. I 
would come and help, and he and I would lay the trap.”
	“Well,” Deuce had continued, “the hardest part was 
faking out that bit with me and Rick fighting. And, after that, I 
had to hope that he wouldn’t kill Natalia, or vice versa. But 
anyway.
	“When the Vampire originally came to the boat, he had 
faked Val into believing that he was going. This of course, 
served his purpose beautifully, since it got rid of the girls for a 
while. He clung to the side of the boat, and sent away the 
shocktrooper to lure you away.
	“When you got out of site, to the NSA, the trooper 
turned tail and headed back. At this time, the Vampire was on 
board and causing his mischief. Richard planted the target 
object, my jacket, where the Vampire could get at it, and then 
gave him ample opportunity to plant the bomb which would 
release the virus on detonation. The biosuit was for show. He 
didn’t intend to be anywhere near the place when it went off.
	“Anyway, thanks to that, the virus was now on my jacket, 
which Rick would later pick up – at least, plan ran that way. 
Unfortunately, there was a hiccup along the way, being that 
Perseus was short on treatment, and that disrupted his thought 
processes. He thought the Vampire had two batches, and that 
one was broken open, therefore giving him a blank check, 
regret-free. His condition also made him forget who he was 
fighting with, so I caught a few nasty cracks.
	“While the trooper had begun to drive away, however, I 
was in the back of the boat, and I’d already decided to do 
something. I hit him with a very traditional weapon, Richard. 
You’d be proud.”
	“A sock with a halfbrick in it?” the grinning Australian 
had laughed.
	“Yes. It dazed him long enough for me to knock him out, 
take his clothes, throw him over the side and come back to the 
yacht. From there, I was the trooper.
	“When you had begun your own little attack on the 
Vampire, I was getting up and searching out the wounded. I had 
to clear it up, but I did fairly well. After finding Natalia and 
helping her up, I blasted open the lock I had put on Abbey’s door 
earlier,”
	“–Which was the gunshot I heard,–” Valerie had 
supplied.
	“Yes, and I gave her her instructions. Unfortunately for 
Johnny, when Perseus and Sydney had undergone their little 
drowning session, he had dashed around the side, only to get hit 
by Abbey opening the door.
	“After I had Abbey, Johnny and Natalia ready, they just 
waited at the far end of the boat, after I set the signal, i.e., 
finishing the chess game, which Richard should have noticed. I 
hadn’t counted on Val being taken hostage, nor on Perseus 
almost losing it, but all in all, it turned out well.”
	At one in the morning, however, this information took 
some digesting. Now, when she could examine it in the light of a 
fairly good night’s sleep, it all made sense. Sort of.
	Hauling herself out of bed and pulling on a pair of 
shorts, she headed out to the kitchens.
	On the way, she passed Natalia, who was sharpening 
her knives, very, very slowly, as if she held a grudge with the 
whetstone. She had her back to the prow, and her face was 
clouded.
	Val was eating already. Once again, her steady diet of 
sugar-laden cold cereal would see her through to an equally 
unhealthy lunchtime, but Abbey needed something a bit more 
substantial. Bacon, eggs, French toast? Hmm... the choices...
	As it happened, she didn’t need to make a choice. On 
the hotplate, a frying pan holding a rather large four-man omelet 
with onions, shallots and, she guessed, probably bacon, was 
frying happily. It was in the latter stages of its journey towards 
the plate, and then the stomach, so she assumed it was fair 
game. Besides. Not even Johnny, who had slept in Deuce’s 
room, could eat it all on his own.
	It was astonishingly good. Whoever cooked it liked their 
food.
	Grinning happily, Abbey walked out onto the deck, to try 
and gather her thoughts and resolve.
	At the prow, however, two chairs were taken. Perseus 
and Sydney occupied them, though, in some sort of obscure 
respect Perseus had, they were turned slightly away from each 
other. Staring out across the vast blue ocean, Perseus and 
Sydney were reminiscing. Moving slightly closer, she caught a 
brief snippet of conversation.
	“Of course, Melbourne’s beautiful in the summer.”
	“How can you tell it’s summer in Melbourne?” Sydney 
demanded.
	“Oh, the rain’s a bit warmer.”
	The pair laughed.
	“I am sorry about Kassle, however. And your hands.”
	“Oh, they’ll heal.”
	“Yes. But Kassle probably won’t. I know, Sydney. She 
really hates me.”
	“Why so gloomy?” Sydney laughed. “Hell, it shouldn’t 
bother you.”
	“It does. Damn I hope my omelet is done now.” he stood 
up. “I’d offer you some, but I only made one.”
	Sydney laughed again and turned to look out at the sea.
	Abbey walked up to her quietly and sat down.
	“So. How and who is he?”
	“Rick? Oh, he’s a friend. Turns out that after the CIA 
chopper picked up the Vampire, he and Johnny had some very 
sharp words about custody. As it is, Rick wants him tried by the 
UN. Johnny wants him tried in America; preferably Texas, where 
they have the lethal injection.”
	“Has he done anything in Texas?” and part of Abbey 
thought Rick, is it? It’s been Perseus to everyone else...
	“He was born there, and he killed there first. Oh well. I 
suppose Rick’ll win the fight, though. Johnny hasn’t got the spine 
for him.” Once again she laughed.
	“So...” Abbey said. “What’s he like?”
	“Most of the time, fine. He was like that just then 
because he had just finished some mentos. Bit grumpy. When 
his sugar drops, he gets grouchy. I remember once that he,” she 
laughed slightly, “he, wait for it,” she laughed again.
	“Sugar?”
	“Yep. He’s hypoglycemic. Didn’t you pick up on that? 
Oh. Yeah. Apparently he’s a good cook, too. Likes his food, and 
lots of it. Anyway, he was in this bar, right, and,”
	As the joke unfolded itself around her, Abbey felt slightly 
sick in her stomach.
	
	Deuce flicked the razor delicately across his cheek, 
erasing the faint stubble that paid testament to his inattention. 
Johnny had occupied the bathroom for over an hour, and now, 
he had some peace. A heavy hand thudded on the door for a 
while.
	“Shaving,” Deuce yelled, absently. Then, “Damn!” as the 
razor slipped.
	“Deuce, it’s me. I’d like to talk.” Rick said.
	“Come on in.”
	The door swung open and Perseus stepped in. Without 
his crossbelt, knives, axes and swords, he looked less imposing 
and shorter. Maybe only 6’7’, rather than 10’10’.
	“Look, Deuce... thanks for the room for a night and all... 
but I have to go.”
	“Go where, Richard? You’ve nothing to do. The Vampire 
doesn’t know who his employer is, let alone where, so you have 
no leads on that... all in all, you’ve got nowhere to go.”
	“I know. But Kassle...”
	“She doesn’t have all the facts. She doesn’t know. Let it 
progress.”
	“I can. But not here. I’ll go out. Explore the world. Laugh. 
Cry. Grow. All that crap. I need some rest and practice, and I 
intend to get it. I also need somewhere where no-one steals your 
breakfast.”
	“You have several singular talents.” Deuce laughed. 
“Especially bluff. Did Barracuda really swallow your reasons for 
you knowing I wasn’t on board?”
	“Every one of them. I told him I could smell you, and I 
told him that I could hear everything but you. For an 
international, devil-may-care spy, he’s as dense as a cinder 
block.”
	Deuce laughed again, a bit carefully, because he was 
trimming a section of his mustache. “We could use you. How’s it 
appeal to you? Getting the baddies, being the goodie... not 
being hunted... Steady income, and so on.”
	“Deuce, I will. Maybe. Someday. But for the time being, 
I’d like to go and get some rest.”
	“Alright. But at least, please stay for a while, and when 
you do leave, take a communicator. We’ll need you some day. 
And maybe Natalia will forgive you.”
	Smiling painfully, Perseus turned and walked away.
	“I wish I had your optimism, Deuce...” the words came 
from behind the closed door and down the hall.