Seattle, 2019. A massive terrorist attack known as the Pulse destroyed the American

economy a decade ago, plunging the nation into a massive depression and annihilating America's

superpower status. This is the world of Max, an escapee from the top secret Project Manticore.

Bicycle messenger by day, thief by night, she struggles to make a living in a harsh world and find

her other "siblings," all while evading the evil Colonel Donald Lydecker who seeks to recapture

or kill her. Now, a mysterious predator is moving through Seattle, killing almost on a whim and

Max will find herself involved in a deadly game of cat and mouse, with surprising consequences.

This story takes place in the time period between "Cold Comfort" and "Blah, Blah, Woof, Woof."

Old Chinatown, 2:15 AM

"Honestly," Yuji Wang said to himself as he walked down the street. "It's hard to make a living

these days as a fence. The police with their damn hover-drones make it hard to conduct deals in the

open and the brownouts make doing things inside without natural light a pain." He was a thin, reedy

Asian with dark hair that hung down between his eyes in a vaguely Hitler-esque look. He wore a

Glock .45 on his waist and carried a parcel under his arm. He was apparently alone under the unfeeling

light of the full moon; apparently everyone else in this part of town was inside. He passed under a

decrepit walkway between two office buildings.

However, he wasn't alone. A dark figure was perched on the walkway, his feet on the rim and

his hands holding on. As the mysterious character heard his approach, he crab-walked over a few feet

and a moment later made a flying leap. The person had timed it perfectly to intercept his prey on the

street below.

"What the hell!" Wang screamed as he saw the horrendous figure drop down in front of him. He

barely got time to glimpse a human silhouette before he was grabbed by the throat and hurled into the

underside of the catwalk. The impact shattered his skull, killing him. The killer screamed, a nightmarish

howl of pain and triumph, and leaped away into the night. The corpse of Yuji Wang lay in the streets

and within minutes, a rat came over to investigate what might be a new source of food. The rodent

poked at the still-warm body for a moment before beginning to nibble on the man's left ear.

Old Chinatown, 7:00 AM

"Damn and blast," one of the cops said. "Another one." Three police officers and a crime scene

photographer stood around the body, while a forensics expert drew a chalk outline around the corpse.

The body had been discovered mere minutes before, and the rats had gotten to it before the cops had.

The man's left ear and part of his nose had been chewed off. His mouth, however, was still frozen in

the last scream that man would ever emit. The forensics expert shook his head as he got up from the

body.

"This has been the second one in this area and the sixth one in the whole city. Six people, all

killed at night, apparently with the killer's bare hands. Like the others, this one was taken by surprise,

so the killer probably dropped from the bridge up there. Have some people take a look up there for

evidence."

"Yes sir," one of the cops said, taking his radio out of his pocket. Suddenly, the sound of

screeching tires filled the air as a van with the logo "Seattle News" tore around the corner. The vehicle

came to a stop sixty feet from the assembled peace officers and the TV reporters spilled out with their

cameras, microphones, and other tools of the trade. The crime scene photographer groaned.

"Damn press. They always show up and become bothers whenever something unpleasant

happens."

Jam Pony X-Press, 7:05 AM

Sketchy, Original Cindy, and Herbal had crammed themselves into the single chair in front of the

television at the messenger service, watching the TV news. Apparently, the infamous "Night Stalker"

serial killer had struck again, leaving a corpse in the streets of Old Chinatown. The police were doing

their best to pretend the cameraman and the reporters weren't there, filming their every move, but they

did make sure to keep most of the corpse out of view. It didn't stop the reporters from asking

questions, though.

"Who is in charge here?" one asked. Nobody answered, but it didn't stop the frenzied news

folks in search of a story. "Do you folks have any leads on who the killer is?" The cops and specialists

didn't answer, but a big black truck with the words "City Morgue" emblazoned on its side pulled up.

The camera moved up to show several attendants stepping out of the truck, one carrying a body bag.

"The representatives of the City Morgue have arrived," one of the reporters said, and the whole gaggle

rushed towards them. "Do you have any information about this?" another newsman said.

"No comment," the lead attendant said. "Go away please."

"Man oh man," Original Cindy said. "The Night Stalker strikes again. Six people so far, and the

attacks are becoming more and more frequent."

"De Most High says 'Thou Shalt Not Kill'," Herbal said, dispensing his religious advice. "Dis is

bad, very bad."

"I thought you said it was all good," Sketchy said. "All good?"

"I said dat Jah makes it work out for good, and He loves in spite of de evil, but dis is bad, very

bad," Herbal intoned. "Dis man, whoever he is, he kills wid his bare hands."

"Man?" Original Cindy cut in. "Might be a chick, you know."

"Might be," Herbal said. "But only de Most High knows dat. De police, dey don't have a clue."

"Ouch," Sketchy said. "The boys in blue seem to be having twice as much trouble. First they find

that this killer, who nobody's even seen and survived, has struck again, but then they've got to deal

with the media."

Suddenly, Normal materialized behind Sketchy, his face right next to his ear. "I'll give you three

guesses, Sketchy."

"Let me guess," Sketchy said, turning pale. "Bip, bip, bip, back to work people."

"Good job. Your prize of the day is to keep your job. Now turn the TV off! I've got packages

to deliver."

Logan's Residence, 7:10 AM

Logan shook his head. "Whoever this killer is, he strikes at night and has only attacked those

who live in the run-down areas."

"Maybe he's some fat cat hunting people for sport, you know, like in The Most Dangerous

Game," Max said, standing to his right. She had arrived a few minutes before, dropping off to say hello

before going to work. They both stood in front of Logan's TV, watching the morgue attendants load

up the corpse while the police held the reporters at bay.

"I doubt it. Killing with one's bare hands would seem so beneath anyone who would do that, and

I don't know any folks that ruthless. Especially since you dealt with the drug-switching guy a couple of

months ago." Logan clicked off the TV and wheeled himself toward his kitchen. "Want some

breakfast?" he asked.

"Not really," Max said. "I'm not particularly hungry now."

"Pity," Logan said. "The personal trainer's not in today and I'm not likely to have company for

awhile. Poor lonely me."

"Fine," Max said. "They usually don't expect me in until around 7:30 anyway. What's cooking?"

"Figured that some streusel muffins would be good. Even though the Pulse disabled most of their

offices and equipment, Duncan Hines is still churning out this wonderful muffin mixes." He reached over

the counter and withdrew a Tupperware container with eight muffins in it. "I fixed it yesterday, but

since I live by myself, I don't eat them particularly fast. How many do you want?"

"Two would be fine."

"Okay. Could you put four in the microwave then? It's a little hard for me to reach these days."

"Sure." Max took the container from Logan, removed four muffins, and put them in the

microwave.

"Fifteen seconds will do," Logan said.

Space Needle Restaurant Restroom, 7:20 AM

March 21st, 2009. He perched in a tall tree, hiding from the men in pursuit. Fourteen

soldiers armed with heavy guns and carrying weighted nets were searching the forest floor for

him in a sweep pattern. At the front of the group was a man holding two huge hounds on two

leashes. While the others thought it wise to head for the nearest major cities and lose themselves

there, he thought it would be better to head through the deep woods, perhaps toward Canada

where those who pursued them had no power.

Suddenly, one of the branches he sat on creaked. One of the soldiers looked up and

shouted. The others raised their guns and opened fired, aiming to destroy the branches that held

him aloft and catch him when he fell. He felt himself falling, falling.

Awake. Now he was in the water tank used for breath-holding exercises. He felt no need to

breathe, so he hadn't been in there very long. He had been secured to the tank floor by two

cables rather than one, indicating that those in charge were being especially cautious about the

gifted children they had thought they had lost. However, the water hurt, it hurt! He looked to the

surface to see a severed electrical cable in the water, electrifying the element in which he was

captive. He looked to the outside window to see the blond man, his face twisted in an evil glare,

watching in apparent amusement.

No!!!

The man abruptly stopped convulsing, his eyes wide. The visions came more and more often,

tormenting him with memories of the month of exquisite agony in which he was put through for his

"crime" of wanting to live freely. Oftentimes he was put on display in his torment as an awful spectacle

to those who hadn't the guts to escape their military slavery. Then the computers and security systems

shut down in the night and he had escaped again, this time following the examples of those who hadn't

been recaptured and heading for the nearest city, to lose himself in the crowd. He looked around him

to see that in his delirium, he torn up the walls and broken down a stall door. He shook his head a bit,

then rose to his feet. Time to go out and scrounge some food.

Jam Pony X-Press, 7:30 AM

"Right on time," Normal said as Max strolled in at exactly 7:30 AM. "Your friends have been

here for about half an hour, watching the TV news about this bloody 'Night Stalker' and not getting

anything productive done. Now Max, I've got a package to Sector Two that a guy I suspect is a mob

boss wants."

"Sure Normal," Max said. "Where is it?"

"Right here," Normal said, withdrawing an envelope from his desk and handing it to Max. "Get

moving, please." Max turned away from her supervisor with the envelope and began walking towards

the back, where the lockers and bikes were. As she walked along, Sketchy and Herbal put in

appearances and tried to be conversational.

"Hey Max, this 'Night Stalker' struck again and tore up someone named Yuji Wang in Old

Chinatown. This is his sixth victim so far," Sketchy said. "I wonder if we should set up a betting pool

on the number of victims this guy'll get before they nab him."

"Yuji" Max gasped. Yuji was her chief fence; he had sold much of the expensive art that she

stole from rich people and was a personal friend as well. He was gone now, killed in the street by an

anonymous psychopath. She frowned, eyes wide.

"Well? A pool sounds cool." Max narrowed her eyes, about to brain Sketchy. Luckily for him,

Herbal spoke up.

"Can't you see dat de lady don't appreciate your freaky-like idea? Mebbe you should change de

subject."

"Oh sure. Well, some TV pundits are saying that the killer is actually the Mayor who gets really,

really drunk and"

"I meant stop talkin' about de Night Stalker, man," Herbal said. "Mebbe you should shut yo

mouth a bit."

"Okay," Sketchy said in a rather bovine fashion. "Well, the Russian guys I do some work for and

the local John Birch Society chapter are in some kind of "Cold War" over a local deli. You see, the

deli"

"Shut up Sketchy," Original Cindy piped in. "Can't you see that Max is thinking?"

"Yeah," Herbal said. "So zip it, man."

"Okay," Sketchy said. "I think I'll see if Normal has any deliveries." He walked off hurriedly.

Herbal shook his head.

"Man, dis guy is really obsessed with de Night Stalker. A serial killer havin' a fan? Who'da

thought?"

"A betting pool on whether someone else dies," Max said. "That's just sick."

"Sketchy is trapped by his male genes, Max," Original Cindy said. "His genes make him alternate

between being a sicko and complete moron. He'll probably get over this Night Stalker thing soon and

start doing strange and stupid things like he used to."

"Bip, bip, bip, get going!" Normal yelled from his booth. "We don't have time for this!"

"Fine," Max said, exasperated. "I'm going."

Meeting Room, 8:00 AM

"Any leads on Max?" Lydecker said to one of his associates. Ever since Vogelsang's mysterious

death, he had little information on the girl or any other Manticore escapees. Another one of his "gifted

children" was briefly in the city and Lydecker was still a little ticked about how Max and Zack had

defeated a small army of his troops. Unfortunately, before he could get a bead on the other, he had fled

the city. The city was a haystack and his wayward children were the needles. If the other had stayed,

he could have captured one needle to bait the other, but the man had fled somewhere. At least he had

managed to get Brin out of the deal, bringing his "capture" total to four.

"None, so far," one of his aides said. "Vogelsang was our best source because of his connection

with her. Now that he's dead, we have no sources close to her and this is a big city. What can we

do?"

Lydecker shook his head. "Perhaps we should put out a description with the police and ask

about whoever this is. Besides," he said, smiling. "I have the perfect person to recapture or kill her if

we do find her." He looked to a figure that stood in a shadowed corner of the meeting room. The

figure was very tall and ominous looking, thought shadows obscured it. "You can do this, can't you?"

"If necessary, Colonel, sir," the figure said. The mysterious character was male, with a very deep

voice. "They left me behind and they'll pay for it."

Streets of Seattle, 10:30 AM

"Man," Max said in exasperation as she peddled down the street. "Normal's really working us

today. Typically, we deliver maybe two packages an hour. Now we've done ten in the past forty

minutes alone." Max was steering with one hand and carrying a big bag of boxes over her shoulder,

keeping her eyes on the busy streets of the market district.

"Yes," Sketchy gasped, his face red, as he pedaled along beside her, similarly burdened. He

didn't have Max's advantage in strength, endurance, and speed, so the intensive work of the past

several hours was exhausting him. "He doesn't want us to waste time watching the Night Stalker

coverage on TV and giving the business a bad rep by appearing as though we've got serial killer

fetishes. So he works us to death."

"Well," Max said. "You have to admit, putting all the packages we've just got on the "high

priority" list was a good idea and will give business a boost. Perhaps there'll be new clients and he'll

have to hire new riders to meet the demand. New people to hang with."

"If we don't die of heart attacks first," Sketchy wheezed. "How many of these packages are

going to the Mayor's Office?"

"Four, two in each package. I think Normal wants us traveling together so we can support each

other in the throes of exhaustion." This was all theory to her, since she almost never got exhausted; the

one exception was when she was in prison and deprived of Tryptophan, thus losing her superhuman

stamina and strength. "Not that the man's developing a soul; it's pure self-interest to keep people from

dying on him and depriving him of riders."

A small car turned out of a corner and rattled past, too close for comfort. Max turned to watch it

go by almost involuntarily, as one near-missed in traffic typically does, and spotting something unusual.

A flash of dark numbers and the brief glimpse of bars on someone's neck appeared for a moment

before vanishing. Max gasped a little; one of the other Manticore escapees was in the city with her.

Was it Zack, who decided to risk discovery in order to hang with her for awhile? Was it one of the

others, like Jeri or Johnny? Or one of those who didn't escape?

"Sketchy, stop and rest," Max said. "I'll be back in a moment."

"Thanks Max," Sketchy wheezed. "You're superhuman, you know that?"

"Sure," she said uneasily. "Watch my stuff, okay?" She dismounted her bike and melted into the

crowd; searching for the person with the mark of Cain on his neck.

Alleyways of Seattle, 10:35 AM

Rusty de la Garza wrapped his blanket around himself and shivered as he leaned against the alley

wall. Another morning wasted in a fruitless attempt to find a job in a failing economy. Few people

wanted to hire homeless people these days; it didn't reflect well on the business. Perhaps if one of the

few cruise ships or cargo freighters pulled into the harbor one of these days, he would try to be a

sailor. Or perhaps he could join the military.

He didn't notice the mysterious silhouette entering the alley from the street forty yards from him.

However, the shape noticed him as he ran his fingers through his short blond hair. That was his

undoing.

The blond-haired man, his face a mask of rage, struck him with the cattle prod again. He

screamed as the current scorched his body, but no one listened or cared. The blows came as soon

as the convulsions from previous blows stopped. The blond-haired man had an obvious fetish for

torturing people with electricity. Then, the man smiled and stopped beating him. He turned his

helpless victim around and with one thrust of the prod

"No!" the shape half-screamed, charging de la Garza. The homeless job seeker looked up to see

a figure cloaked in dark, ragged garb hurtling towards him. He gasped and drew up an arm to defend

himself, bracing himself with the other arm. The impact of the charging man sent him crashing through

the brick wall, smashing his neck, spine, and ribs. The man then leaped up into the fire escape of the

building and scrambled up.

Streets of Seattle, 10:40 AM

"Caught your breath yet?" Max asked as she returned to her bike. Sketchy was still tinged

slightly red, but he was no longer gasping or wheezing.

"I guess so," he said. "How was your little break?"

"Uneventful," she said. Despite her search of the area around her, her pupils at maximum width

to get every detail, she found absolutely nothing. Whoever that was, he had done a good job of

disappearing. "Let's get going."

Jam Pony X-Press, 12:00 PM

"How was de messenger run today?" Herbal asked as he began eating his chow mein. "De

sector cops, dey were being very nice and didn't try to extort money. Dey takin' de words of John de

Baptist seriously, 'bout soldiers not extorting money and all dat." He and the others were clustered

around the table where they customarily ate lunch.

"It was exhausting," Sketchy said. "Normal had us gallivanting all over town for hours straight

and it is surprisingly hot this time of year."

"Wimp," Original Cindy said. "Max, what was your opinion?"

"It wasn't that bad. Granted, I'm probably in better shape than Sketchy but still"

"How sympathetic," Sketchy groaned. "That was not nice at all."

"Hurry up and eat, people. Lots of packages today and we have a reputation to uphold,"

Normal said in his annoying voice, tapping on his watch expectantly. He had apparently strolled over

from his booth in order to continue slave-driving them.

"This is about the Night Stalker, isn't it?" Sketchy said. "Dude, not all of us are serial killer

groupies."

"Nail on the head there, Bucko," Normal said, saluting him in a comical fashion. "But until you

drop your Night Stalker fetish or you die of an exercise-induced heart attack, this goes on. And it gives

all of you an incentive to get Sketchy's mind on something else." He gave Herbal and Original Cindy

the "raised eyebrow" look and went back to his booth.

"Sketchy, de Most High desires self-sacrifice. So stop wid de serial killer fascination for de sake

of de rest of us."

"Or I'll beat you up," Original Cindy threatened. "That incentive enough?"

"Nah," Max said. "I think the exercise-induced heart attack works well enough."

"New deal people," Normal called, yelling in order to be heard from his booth. "We're finishing

up at midnight tonight rather than seven. Late night runs, people."

Sketchy groaned and everyone gave him "the look."

Streets of Seattle, 9:30 PM

It was already dark when Max and Sketchy set off on their late-night messenger run. Normal

had paired him with her because she never seemed to get tired and he seemed very lazy that day.

"Max, do we have to pass through this part of town?" Sketchy implored. "Those Russian guys

are still mad about the money and if they're drunk on vodka like they typically are at this hour they

might mistake me for a trash can for their sharp broken bottles." They were passing through a slightly

seedy part of town while delivering a pair of small packages for the captain of a cargo ship from Los

Angeles. The dock his ship was parked was out in the far end of the port, so it was very, very far from

Jam Pony.

"It's the fastest way," Max insisted. "Beside, it's on mostly flat ground." The pair bicycled under

a walkway. Directly above them, a dark form hunched, eyes on them. As the two of them pedaled

away, it leaped forty feet onto a nearby building and rushed along the roof, keeping up with them.

However, the figure kept out of sight, peeking over the edge of the building only often enough to keep

tabs on his targets.

Two of the soldiers patrolled the perimeter, more so than usual. The escape two months

previous had made them wary of any further attempts. However, in the dead of night the lights and

security systems had gone out, making his own escape easy enough. He had gotten out of his cell

via a vent and had gotten past the dead security cameras. The blond man was not about, so there

was no threat from him and his instruments of torture. The soldiers were skittish. A lot of their

night-vision equipment and other high-tech gadgetry wasn't working for some reason, so they

were on edge. However, he possessed natural night vision and he didn't need technology. Long

patrol, he thought, long patrol.

"I still think robbing the casinos was a good idea," Sketchy insisted. "There's no reason why not

to rob these people. They come to the city, they get drunk and solicit prostitutes, and they go home

broke, drunk, or both. They attract crime and various other problems, so surely us common folk

should get some compensation."

"Last week you were all the yuppie-wannabe. Now you sound like some kind of Communist.

What's the change?" Max asked, tongue in cheek. She knew all of Sketchy's persuasive attempts in

connection with his idiotic get-rich-quick schemes. She also knew how to deflect them.

"I'm trying to convince you and the others to help me. This could be our big break, you know."

"Breaking rocks in the out islands, you know. Not my cup of tea."

"Come on. Nothing in life is without risk."

They passed by a burned-out warehouse on their way, not looking back. If they had, they would

have seen the dark figure leaping from one building to the next, trying to keep up with them.

The two soldiers still did not leave. Apparently the blond man had set their guard position

there and they weren't going to leave. Why did they not leave? Why? Why? Why?

"Sketch, you'd have better luck persuading me to be an arms dealer. And you know that I don't

like guns."

"Why not? Aren't Smith and Wesson .45s a girl's best friend?"

"That's diamonds, dipwad."

"They're good for disposing of stalkers, rapists, and cheating boyfriends."

"They're also good for getting rid of annoying bike messengers too."

That seemed to shock Sketchy. He immediately shut up and put the energy he wasted talking

into pedaling. As they pedaled away, the form on the roof went into action. It leaped onto a power

line, using a strip of cloth as a crude Zip line. It slid across the street onto the roof of another building,

this one to the right of the targets. Max and Sketchy did not even suspect that they were being pursued

through the night by something horrible.

Meeting Room, 9:33 PM

"Well, I've spent the whole bloody day going over all the information we've got and it isn't

accomplishing too much, sir," one of Lydecker's aides said. "We know that the girl is associated with a

bicycle messenger service, but there are dozens of them in this city and that's not too good a lead."

"Yes, but it is a lead," Lydecker said. "We're starting to close in."

The aide rolled his eyes, remembering the last time Lydecker said that. All they got in that case

was a few dozen beat-up soldiers and the girl and her male companion slipping through their fingers.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, Corporal," Lydecker said threateningly.

"Sorry, sir," the man said. Lydecker was not one to mess with; he had a penchant for personally

torturing those who got in his way, such as the late Vogelsang and several others. "However, have you

heard about the Night Stalker?"

Lydecker groaned. The media coverage and hype surrounding this serial killer in Seattle was like

it was with the Beatles back in the Sixties. Lydecker was only a small child then, but his parents talked

incessantly about the way everyone carried on about the obnoxious British rockers.

"I've heard about the damn Night Stalker enough, Corporal. I don't wish to hear any more. It's

getting on my nerves something fierce."

Roof of a Building, 9:40 PM

Present-day reality and the dark past mingled in the perception of the man on the roof as he

watched the two bicycle messengers on their route. Flashbacks moved through his brain as they moved

past him.

Now was his big chance! The soldiers had their backs turned towards him and there was a

gap in the razor wire directly in front of their faces! If he was going to get out of the living

nightmare that was this facility, it was right now! He leaped

He leaped

Streets of Seattle, 9:40 PM

"What the hell is that!" Sketchy half-screamed as the dark figure landed directly in front of him

and Max. As Sketchy's shocked gaze took in details of the figure's appearance, he got a good idea of

what it was.

The figure was that of a man at least six feet tall. He had a five o'clock shadow, which didn't

obscure several nasty scars on the lower part of his face. He was wearing an old military poncho and a

pair of ragged pants, coupled with two old sneakers. The hood of the poncho was up, obscuring the

upper part of his face. He smiled, revealing yellowed teeth. However, this sinister image was marred by

the fact that the man's body trembled constantly. He brought his hands up in a combat stance and

lunged

He remembered that the first soldier he had attacked was too surprised to react. In the space

of two seconds, he had broken his neck. The second soldier managed to get his gun out and fire a

short burst, but in his surprise he had missed. This episode was different than the original,

because the first soldier had moved back rather quickly and was asking "You're the Night

Stalker? Wow, I never dreamed I meet you face-to-face!" The second soldier, who was female and

looked kind of familiar, was moving to engage.

"You're the Night Stalker?" Sketchy asked incredulously, his voice tinged with fear. "Wow, I

never dreamed I'd meet you face-to-face!" Although he seemed enraptured with his meeting with the

local anti-hero, he was backing away on his bike. One never knew how serial killers would react to

fans.

"Shut up, Sketchy," Max said. "I'll handle this guy."

The man leaped at Sketchy, hands outstretched towards the messenger's throat. Max lashed out

with a closed fist to the man's chin, sending him reeling. The man broke his backward stagger with a

heel jammed into the sidewalk and came forward again, this time aiming himself at Max.

This was definitely NOT like the first time. The second soldier just saved the first and had

sent him flying. He thought that he might be dealing with one of his old comrades, those he had

fled with. Then he realized that they were all far away, in one of the major cities of the area. They

wouldn't have come back; they didn't even know that he had been taken. His opponent lashed out

again, but this time he seized her arm and tossed her in the air. This was slightly harder than the

first time around.

Max flipped in midair and landed on her feet. This guy had better reflexes than most people with

whom she had fought. A brief glimpse under the hood of his poncho revealed piercing gray eyes, eyes

that alternated between sanity and madness. As the man spun to kick, she noticed something odd on

the back of his neck. Max frowned. She'd have to get a better look at him, but this was odd. The man

was screaming now, a howl of rage and torment.

"You're not taking me back, damn you! I fled these people once and I'll die first! The blond man

is mad, I say! Insane!" He stared at Max's face with bulging eyes, his teeth chattering. "Not the water

tank, with the electrified water!" he roared. "Monster!" He lunged at her, his left fist glancing off her

jawbone. She made a small noise of pain and kicked him as hard as she could in the temple. This sent

him staggering away and Max seized his hood and pulled. It came away with a tear, revealing the rest

of his head. He had straight black hair in a military flattop hair cut. However, it was the back of his

neck she was interested in. A Manticore bar code was there, although this particular mark was partially

obscured with various scars, as though he had tried to destroy his mark of Cain with a knife or blade.

The number was 345602025.

"Johnny?" Max asked softly. "Is this you?"

The visage of the female Black Ops soldier faded, replaced with the image of Max, one of

those who fled with him. She had insisted on heading for one of the cities and had set off towards

the west. The image alternated with that of a wide-eyed, vaguely Hispanic-looking woman who

stood before him. She wore jeans and a T-shirt advertising some local band, quite unlike the

military-issue gown the young Max wore. His breathing came hard and fast. What was going on?

He didn't wait to find out. With a leap he was back on top of the building and a moment later, he

was gone. Max watched him go, then turned to Sketchy. Sketchy looked from her to the top of the

building and back again. "What's going on?" he asked. "You and this guy fight so fast I can't really see

what's going on, you grab his hood and poke at his neck, then he leaves. This is kooky."

"Let's finish this delivery and head back to Jam Pony. And are you still obsessed with the Night

Stalker?"

"Nno," Sketchy stammered. "Let's get going."

The two of them pedaled off towards their destination, trying to keep the abnormal events out of

their minds. Max couldn't stop thinking about Johnny, who attacked in a state of madness.

Logan's Residence, 10:00 PM

"My, these people seem to travel in packs. Two weeks ago, Zack shows up and acts all snappy,

then this 'Johnny' puts in an appearance. Are you sure he's the Night Stalker?" Logan asked. A few

minutes earlier, Max had breezed into Logan's penthouse and told him about the encounter with the

dark man in the night. He seemed very interested in the whole thing and asked a lot of questions.

"Logan, the only person or thing I know that can smash people through brick walls or into

bridges with that amount of force is someone from Manticore. Besides, I think I may even know

what's driving him."

"What?"

"Throughout the whole engagement, his body trembled near constantly and he seemed like he

was seeing something that only he could see. When I have my seizures, I flash back to the Manticore

program and I shake insanely. He seems to be having the same problem, only that he is capable of

attacking and killing while having seizures."

"When you were deprived of Tryptophan, you lost your superhuman strength and reflexes. How

come he can fight and kill with such supernatural speed and power?"

"Perhaps he has a different genetic flaw. In his seizures, perhaps he goes into some kind of

hallucinatory psychosis and attacks people."

"Well Max, you knew him. What should we do?"

"When I knew Johnny, he was one of the nicest people. What has happened to him?"

Logan coughed. "Perhaps, if you could get him to ingest Tryptophan, it might stop his fits of

homicidal rage and he might stay sane long enough to give us some answers straight from the horse's

mouth."

"That would require actually finding a way to get him to either take one of my pills or inject him

with some of the substance," Max said. "If he's in some kind of mental warp and turns into a homicidal

maniac, that could be something of a problem." She paused. "He was my friend. I'll find a way."

Logan smiled. "If you can pull this off, I'd like to meet him."

Ruth's Tenement House, 11:15 PM

Johnny, the dark man, perched on the edge of the roof of the tenement house, his mind flashing in

and out of reality. The fight with the shape-changer, which alternated between being a Blacks Ops

soldier and his old friend Max, had affected him deeply. Even though his hold on reality was tenuous at

best, this troubled him. He took to the roof and looked down onto the meager traffic flow, images of

reality alternating with the distant past.

He was in a tree again, outside of the compound fence. The first of the visions were coming

and he was scared. He scrambled over branches, trying to get away from the place of torment.

Flashes of the tortures of the blond man echoed through his brain.

The flashback stopped and he was stuck looking down onto the street below. A few cars passed

through the night, heading towards various destinations.

Chinook Helicopter, 11:17 PM

"All right men," Lydecker said. "We've finally got one. I want you to deploy in a sweep pattern

throughout this district, safeties off and tranquilizers armed. Keep your lethal weapons holstered unless

absolutely necessary. Once you can slow him down, net him. These nets are made out of high-tensile

wire and a tiger would have trouble slashing through them." He stood at one end of the Chinook's

transport area, briefing the small army of troops that was under his command. "Bring him back here.

This man is unarmed, but he is extremely dangerous. Exercise utmost caution and use live fire only if it's

the only way to bring him down. You all have heard my description; be prepared."

Lydecker inhaled, smiling. It seems like he was finally going to get somewhere. He'd intercepted

a call to the police describing a man with a dark mark on his neck who broke into a house, but fled

screaming into the night when a blond man attempted to subdue him. This odd description fit an old

acquaintance perfectly and he'd called out several squads of troops to deal with him. "And one last

thing," he said to his soldiers. "Don't let him see me, whatever you do."

Streets of Seattle, 11:20 PM

"Johnny!" Max called into the darkness. "It's me, Max! Where are you?" She felt like a total

fool, but she wanted to find him. In his hallucinatory madness, he had already killed several people and

she wanted to stop him before he victimized anyone more. She carried some of her Tryptophan pills

with her, hoping that she could temporarily restore her quarry's sanity. She saw something dark sitting

on the roof of a building and thought that she may have found her target. However, when she widened

her pupils to get a better look, she saw that it was only a gargoyle. Baroque architecture, she thought,

so deceptive.

Suddenly, a massive double-rotor Chinook transport roared through the night over her head. It

flew on for a few seconds and then landed in the street. The massive cargo door opened and twenty

soldiers, grouped in fives, spilled out. Each group had a steel net, weighted with several large weights.

They were all carrying tranquilizer rifles, though they had Smith and Wesson sidearms strapped to their

waists. Max's jaw dropped. It seems that someone else had gotten news of Johnny and was arriving in

force. A certain someone named Lydecker.

Tenement House Roof, 11:21 PM

Johnny looked down to see soldiers spilling into the streets and fanning out through the area. He

immediately went into one of those strange states where the present and the past mixed together.

Dozens of swarming ants crawled over his face. He tried to swat them away, but the blond

man had tied him up, spattered honey all over him, and left him amid the swarms of insects. All he

could do was cry out in pain as the ants gnawed on him, tormenting him. He desired nothing more

but to stomp the ants, stop them into oblivion! The ants were below himit's clobbering time!

With a roar of rage Johnny descended from the roof, his poncho billowing out behind him so he

looked vaguely like some hideous black bird. 

Streets of Seattle, 11:22 PM

He crashed onto two soldiers and smashed their heads together, then spun into another soldier

and broke his neck. Immediately, the other soldiers in the vicinity of the chopper reacted to the

presence of death among them, their surprise wearing off and turning into cold, methodical purpose.

Several soldiers aimed their tranquilizer guns at him and fired. He leaped in the air, dodging most

of them, but several jammed into his flesh and injected their soporific cargoes. He felt his body start to

slow down, imperceptibly at first but then he felt like his limbs were made of lead. Still, he found

enough strength to toss one soldier into a group of others, scattering them like ninepins. More darts

struck him, pumping him full of narcotics.

The enemies gathered around him as he crashed down from the tree. He tried to fight them

as they seized him and bound his limbs, but there were too many of them to fight. One of them

shoved a needle into his carotid artery and soon deep, dark sleep overtook him. Deep, dark

sleep

"No" Max gasped as Johnny was finally brought down. In a fit of insanity he had challenged

an entire army and lost. She watched helplessly as the soldiers wrapped him in the heavy nets and took

him inside the helicopter, to Lydecker and whatever horrors he had waiting for those unlucky enough

to fall into his clutches. Then, she had a plan.

She jumped up onto the nearest roof and began running. If she could jump onto the helicopter

before it lifted off, she might get a free ride to the enemy base. They had already bundled Johnny into

the chopper and the heavy door was closing fast. She was still forty yards from the chopper and the

rotors were beginning to spin. Max had about half a minute before the chopper lifted off. Her running

had taken her closer to the vehicle, but the blades were spinning faster and faster. She could see that

the helicopter was beginning to rise.

Chinook Cockpit, 11:24 PM

"Is the prisoner secure?" Lydecker asked over the chopper's intercom. He had relocated to the

helicopter's cockpit to avoid being seen by their victim, whom he had a special relationship with. He

wanted to keep his presence a surprise and was thus forced to talk to his capture teams via a speaker.

This was not optimal, but at least he had finally captured one of the Manticore escapees. Ten years of

searching were now bearing fruit.

Something went clunk against the fuselage and the pilot looked up. "What was that?" he said.

"Probably just some debris falling off a building," Lydecker said. "I want our special cargo taken

back to the base pronto. Get us going."

"Yes sir." As the helicopter lifted off, Lydecker and his men had no idea that they had just

picked up a hitchhiker.

The Kelly P. Freeman Federal Building Roof, 11:30 PM

Lydecker's operation was run from the Kelly P. Freeman Federal Building. The structure had

been closed twelve years ago during Libertarian President Harry Browne's federal downsizing of

2004-2008, but nobody had bought it out or knocked it down. When Lydecker had noticed the

queries on Project Manticore from Seattle, he had moved his base of operations from Montana to

Seattle and found that the deserted building in the heart of the downtown district fit the bill nicely.

Everyone was so used to the increased military presence in the city that nobody thought it odd to have

helicopters and Hummers moving in and out at odd hours. Besides, even though almost all of the

equipment had been removed and all the employees had been let go, the building was technically still

government property.

Now, two very special people were coming to the Federal Building. One of them was a captured

specimen of a long-dead military super-soldier program, while the other was a spawn of the program

who had stowed away for a rescue mission, a rescue mission for the first person's body and possibly

their soul. All hell was about to break loose.

"Take him to the interrogation center," Lydecker ordered over the intercom as the rotors wound

down and the rear door swung open. "I want to find out whether this man has had any contact with the

others and where I can find them. Hurry it up, people." He smiled in spite of himself. All this fruitless

work was now consummated. He had found one of the Manticore escapees; the information this one

probably had would lead him to the others. Life was good.

Perched atop the chopper's fuselage, Max heard every word from the villainous Special Forces

officer. However, she had no idea where the interrogation center was and how to get to it. Heck, she

had no clue about the building's layout or how many soldiers were in it. This whole operation was a

spur-of-the-moment deal and she was incredibly ill-prepared. Her chances of making it out alive with

Johnny in tow were essentially nil. Max snorted. What the hell, life involves taking chances.

She watched from the chopper as a dozen Black Ops characters carried off a large bundle that

emitted insane screams and visions of the past.

"Damn you!" Johnny roared as they took him into the roof exit. "You're a bunch of monsters, all

of you! By the time I'm finished with you, you will all be dead and damned!" She could still hear his

howls when they took him down the stairwell leading

"Ignore him," she heard Lydecker say. "Something is very wrong with this specimen."

The sound of Lydecker's voice sent Johnny into a new spasm of howling and madness.

Apparently it had triggered some kind of flashback. Max scowled. Lydecker must not have had a

heart. She snorted again. She'd known that Lydecker was a soulless monster since she was probably

five. Nothing new from this train of thought.

She waited until the last of the soldiers had gone before slipping off the chopper and moving

silently towards the entrance.

Office Block, Kelly P. Freeman Federal Building, 11:45 PM

"Place our patient into the interrogation room and set him up for extensive questioning,"

Lydecker ordered the officer in charge of their captive. "I'll get started on him" His voice trailed off

into a yawn. "Tomorrow morning, five or six. I'm tired." Lydecker and the officer stood in front of the

bundle, whose occupant the officer had just injected with industrial-strength tranquilizers. Johnny was

unconscious now, a state which probably would not last particularly long.

"Sir, if you're not going to get to him until tomorrow, why set him up now?"

Lydecker narrowed his eyes, glaring at the one who dared question him. "I want him to think

about it all night long. We won't need to torture him as much in order to break him."

The man grimaced and Lydecker was disgusted. This man was too weak to be in this line of

work; he wouldn't be able to commit any of the atrocities necessary to accomplish the objectives.

"Yes sir," the man said weakly. Lydecker made the mental note to transfer him to another program

ASAP before he could spread his weakness. Weakness was like a virus in this job; one man's morality

had a tendency to spread.

Lydecker turned from the officer and walked away. As he left, he heard the man giving the order

to set the prisoner up for interrogation.

Main Stairwell, Kelly P. Freeman Federal Building, 11:45 PM

As Lydecker gave the gruesome order to his reticent officer, Max was making her way down the

stairwell. Her senses were on alert, since this building was likely to be Lydecker's central base of

operations and infested with soldiers. Still, no noise at this point. Apparently Lydecker's people were

being very lax.

Suddenly, a warbling scream echoed through the stairwell. Max recognized it was Johnny. He

was probably having one of his fits of insanity and was hallucinating. She shuddered at the intensity of

the cry. It was the hopeless sound of the damned, exquisite in its agony. She steeled herself and then

made her way down the stairs. If she followed the scream, it would lead her right toward him.

Jam Pony X-Press, 11:47 PM

"Well, that's the last package," Normal said. "Nice job today. We've delivered all the packages

we physically have on us, and it only took us around fifteen hours of bicycling. Now Sketchy," he said,

giving him 'the eye,' "will we need to slave drive the crew for another day because of an unhealthy

obsession?"

"No," Sketchy said. "I'm not interested in the Night Stalker any more." He gulped and Normal

raised an eyebrow. This wasn't like the stupid but well-meaning Sketchy that he knew. Something odd

was going on.

"Good," Normal said. "Hard labor as a form of therapy. I ought to set up my own practice."

"Dat would be a bad ting," Herbal said. He and Original Cindy were standing with Sketchy as

Normal reamed him about his fascination with the Night Stalker. "De brothers and de sisters would not

like it if de boss were to be arrested for malpractice."

"Oh spare me," Normal said in an exaggeratedly exasperated tone. "I get no respect around

here." He turned back to Sketchy. "Where's Max?"

"After the packages were delivered, she disappeared. She said she had some errands to take

care of."

"My, and to think she was so dependable," Normal said with mock sadness. "Tell her that if the

rest of them hadn't delivered the rest of the packages before you two set off, I'd have to deduct a

significant percentage of her pay. Still, nice job everyone." He turned around and locked his booth.

"Now get on home. You folks can't just lollygag around here and use up valuable electricity."

Interior Hallway, Kelly P. Freeman Federal Building, 11:48 PM

"Honestly," Max said. "You people don't know how to treat a lady." She tossed the last of the

Black Ops people into a nearby door, which crumbled inward at his impact. Apparently they had some

type of security equipment and had recorded her entrance. Five soldiers had been waiting at the

bottom of the stairway when she opened the fire door and none of them had been happy to see her.

Still, she had moved among them so fast that none of them had been able to fire his gun. "Now," she

said to herself. "Where was I?"

Another scream echoed from down the hall. Apparently Johnny's fit of madness was still going

on or they had already started to torture him. Either way, getting to him was a good idea.

First Floor, Kelly P. Freeman Federal Building, 11:49 PM

"We've had a security breach," Lydecker growled as he came in through the front door into the

lobby, which was manned only by one soldier. "I just get settled and someone calls, telling me we've

got an intruder. How come you never pay attention to these things?"

"Don't blame me, sir," the guard said. "This stuff went down on the roof and the top floor. I had

no clue until you showed up."

"Come along," Lydecker said, exasperated. "This intruder apparently neutralized a Black Ops

team, judging by what the guy who called me from the security center said, and that means I'm going to

need the help of someone special."

Office Block, Kelly P. Freeman Federal Building, 11:51 PM

As Lydecker and his people made their way upward, Max had traced the sounds of hell into an

empty office complex. The sounds were louder now, indicating that Johnny was close by. She followed

the sounds and turned a corner into what used to be someone's office. However, it had apparently

been converted into some kind of torture chamber. Her eyes went wide as she saw what horror

Lydecker and his men had perpetrated on Johnny.

Johnny hung on the wall of the office opposite a boarded-up window, held on by rough leather

straps. He shook convulsively, although his trembling was not particularly extreme. His poncho and

shoes had been removed, revealing that his torso and feet were covered in scars. His wiry frame had

little fat, but extensively muscled. Electrodes had been hooked to his ears, face, nipples, hands and

feet, and cables ran up his pants legs, indicating that other places were rigged for torture. Sharp metal

clips had been clamped onto his arms and stomach and blood was trickling from around them.

Johnny's wide staring eyes looked out over everything but saw nothing.

The torture was beginning again. The blond man had ceased his horrors the previous day

only because he, unlike his victim, needed to sleep. Now, that evil character had hung him on the

wall in full view of the other Manticore children who didn't escape and had hooked several

painful appliances to him. The torture would begin soon; a gory spectacle for others to learn

from.

What? The shape-changer had materialized in front of him, in the torture chamber. She

alternated between Max and the adult woman who seemed so familiar. She didn't turn into the

female Black Ops officer yet; that was a different part of the mad lands within his skull. The

shape-changer came close and began removing the instruments of torture from him. This was a

good shape-changer, quite unlike the bad shape-changer that he fought earlier. Strange days,

these were, strange days.

"What are you, shape-changer?" Johnny gasped in a voice ragged from screaming. "Where did

you come from and who do you represent?"

"I'm an old friend," Max said, removing the last of the electrodes. "Take this and you'll

understand." She removed a Tryptophan pill from her pocket and handed it to him. "It will fix

everything."

"Whatever," the man said, placing the pill in his mouth with his free hand. Max continued to take

apart Lydecker's torture apparatus. She took off the last of the clamps and began working on the

electrodes.

The shape-changer began changing form again, faster and faster. When she first appeared,

she was the young Max, then she changed into the adult woman and then changed back. After he

took whatever it was she gave him, the changes were coming faster and faster. The world was

taking a kaleidoscopic tinge it, becoming more and more surreal. Flashes of the snowy Gillette

woods alternated with the torture room of Manticore, and a new image was entering the freakish

mess. The image of an office block, a harmless, normal office block. His viewpoint alternated

between all three images until there was a flash of light and

All was normal. He perceived reality now, the office block, and the young woman who was

helping him down from the wall of pain. The flashbacks were gone, the only pain was from the cuts

made by the metal clips. "Whowho are you?" he asked, fully sane for the first time in possibly

months.

"I'm Max," Max said, half-smiling. "Apparently the Tryptophan worked."

"Max?" Johnny asked. "Where have you been the past ten years?"

"Mostly here," Max said. "In Seattle."

Suddenly, things started happening very fast. Five soldiers entered the room, guns at ready. Both

Max and Johnny leaped as they opened fire, perforating the office block with large quantities of

ammunition. Johnny flipped in midair and landed directly in front of the soldiers, immediately attacking

them. While in a rational mental state, he was apparently a lethal fighter. The soldiers quickly turned

from aggressors to defenders to incapacitated people in several seconds. Johnny tossed two of the

soldiers into the wall, knocking them out, then lashed out and broke the nose of another soldier. He

continued on to knock out one of the other soldiers and to snap the neck of the last one.

"My," Max said. "Still tough."

Johnny shrugged. "I've had a unique upbringing."

"Nice," an evil-sounding voice said. "Very nice."

Both Max and Johnny turned. Johnny's jaw dropped and his eyes went wide when he saw the

owner of the voice. "The blond man," he gasped, his voice full of terror.

"Lydecker," Max whispered.

Lydecker was standing before them in the doorway, along with a huge man with a heavy jaw,

black, shorn hair, and wearing dark military garb. Lydecker smiled at them.

"Max, how nice to see you again. Pity your boyfriend isn't here with you, but I had Johnny here

all to myself and we had quite an interesting time. You and your friend seemed to have taken care of

my regular people very nicely, but can you beat my secret weapon?"

"Yes," the other man said in a deep, ominous voice. "You left me behind and it's time to pay."

"Left you behind?" Max said. "Who are you?"

The man turned around, revealing a bar code on the back of his neck. #3502305052.

"Alan?" Johnny gasped. "What the"

"You should have taken me with you," Alan said angrily. "Instead, you ditched me. You'll pay

for your crimes."

Alan leaped at them. His sheer size put Max and Johnny on the defensive and they were forced

to dodge him. However, Johnny spun around in midair and struck at Alan's unguarded back with his

feet, knocking him into a desk.

"Go for Lydecker!" Johnny shouted. "This one's mine!"

Max looked to the doorway but Lydecker was gone. Coward. She turned to see that Alan had

turned the tables on Johnny while Max was looking for Lydecker.

Although Johnny's surprise attack had sent Alan tumbling forward, the loyalist had spun around

and slammed Johnny into a wall with such force that it left a large dent. He held Johnny by the throat

and proceeded to slam him into the wall over and over again, leaving enormous holes. Johnny couldn't

possibly be faring well through this whole process, Max thought. Then, she followed thought with

action.

She leaped into the air at Alan, reaching out to strike him in the face. He lashed out with one arm

and sent her reeling into a cubicle wall. Once the threat of Max was over, he returned to the process of

beating Johnny to death.

Max bounced off the wall and came back at Alan. Alan turned around to deal with her again, but

Max had a plan. As soon as the enemy had turned, Max kicked him in the groin. Hard.

Alan roared in pain and doubled over. Max smiled at him. "Strictly male weakness," she said.

"I resemble that remark," Johnny said weakly from the massive hole in the wall that Alan had dug

with the X-5 escapee's body. "Now deal with him before he recovers!"

Max swung up her leg and brought her foot down on the back of Alan's head. Alan toppled to

the ground, unconscious. Johnny gave a weak thumbs-up.

"Thanks," she said. "Now get moving. Lydecker's probably called in a whole army of his

goons."

Johnny rose almost vertically from the hole in the wall and set off running. Max soon followed

suit, leaving the unconscious Alan in the ruined office block. Lydecker strolled in a moment later and

beheld the carnage.

"Alan, Alan, Alan," he said sadly. "I'm very disappointed in you." He drew his cell phone out of

his pocket and began making calls.

Lobby of the Kelly P. Freeman Federal Building, 11:55 PM

"Now what do we do?" Johnny said as he and Max burst out of a stairwell into the lobby.

"Lydecker's people will be coming here in mobs by now and the fact that we beat Alan will make them

even more pissed off."

Max wasn't really paying attention; she was looking off into space with a distant, sad look on her

fact and eyes full of tears. She was thinking back to that fateful night of the escape from Manticore.

Max's seizures had stopped, so they could all get away now. Zack had disarmed all of the

adult leaders who had come to take Max away and everyone was ready. Except for one of them.

Alan huddled in the corner, eyes wide. When Zack gestured for him to come, he shook his head.

Although all of them had been trained to be fearless, he had a sudden attack of nerves. Zack

gestured again, more frantically this time. Lydecker's soldiers would be coming now. Alan shook

his head even more firmly. Zack sighed with resignation and led the others out

"Max, hello? Earth to Max?" Johnny asked, waving his hand in her face. "We've got to keep

moving, you know." He seemed quite anxious, almost frantic, to get away from Lydecker, but he

wasn't going into a hallucinatory psychosis.

"I know that," she said, suddenly snappish. "I'm just thinking about Alan and how we left him.

Zack, if he were here, would have said it was necessary for the rest of us to get away, but still"

"Zack?" Johnny said. "Old fox is out here?"

"We hung out, for awhile," Max said. "I found him and we fought with Lydecker's men, then he

left because he thought us staying together was too dangerous. However, he came back when Brin

was taken"

"Brin was taken!" Johnny said, eyes wide. "What happened?"

"Brin was captured by rogue elements of the military to be sold to the Chinese. Zack, Lydecker,

and I had to team up to save her but it turned out she had developed a genetic disease that only

Lydecker's people could cure." She sniffed. "We had to let Lydecker take her after we escaped

Sanders, the leader of the renegades. She would have died within days. Apparently, a third of us

developed this disease and only being taken by Lydecker saved their lives."

Johnny's eyes were wide, but his other senses were attuned to his surroundings. "Let's find a

better place to talk about this," he said anxiously. "As I said, we're going to have some nasty company

soon."

Suddenly, a squad of elite troops burst through the doors of the lobby, brandishing firearms. The

lead soldiers opened fire on Max and Johnny, who rapidly dodged the fire. Max cart-wheeled toward

the soldiers, then leaped into the air and landed among them. Johnny, on the other hand, ran out the

door into the cold night.

What is he doing? Max thought. Is he ditching me? She couldn't see through the glass too well

and had no idea of where he was going or what he was doing. She lashed out at two soldiers,

knocking one out and breaking the nose of the other. The soldiers outnumbered her, but she was a

living weapons system and had a great advantage.

Suddenly, a Humm-Vee smashed through the doors, crushing two soldiers and scattering the

rest. The enormous black vehicle came to a stop mere feet from Max. Johnny leaned his head out and

yelled for her.

"I've gotten us a ride!" he shouted. "Let's get out of here!" Max leaped through the door as

Johnny opened it. As soon as his companion was in the vehicle, Johnny changed gears and jammed the

gas, sending the vehicle shooting backwards into the empty streets. Johnny spun the wheel and shifted

the car into drive, then jammed the gas again. The Humm-Vee launched down the streets at a very

rapid clip, away from the Kelly P. Freeman Federal building.

A moment later, Lydecker entered the lobby by himself. He scowled at the surviving soldiers and

the devastation caused by the rogue Manticore prototypes. "Damn," he said. "Foiled again."

 

Part 2

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