The rain poured in the streets. The masses hurried their paces, eager to get to their destinations and thus out of the rain quicker. They were mostly Oriental-looking people, but standing a full head above everyone else was a man with beige skin, flowing black hair and a dark grey trenchcoat. He stood out like a clown at a funeral.
This man, he strode purposefully. He had somewhere to be, and soon. The rain meant nothing either way.
He walked past the blinking lights of the cybercafes and the electronics shops and the hentai bookstores and whatnot and he brushed past the silent people who took their entertainments gravely, and he turned down an alley. After moving a pile of junk that hid a trapdoor, he pulled out a cell and he spoke in quick, Arabic-accented Emeriquan.
"This is Avenger checking into base. I'm at the entrance and ready to bust in. Just give the order."
The phone crackled, and the voice of the other end was rendered nonsensical before the phone melted.
"An EM hex," he muttered to himself in Arabic. "Screw it."
He took out two Merlowes and he kicked open the trapdoor. Stairs led down to an empty, cobwebbed cellar. Empty, that is, save for for a pentagram of offal and candles on the floor.
The one called Avenger bent down, his nose wrenching in disgust, and he felt a wick.
"Still warm. Can't have wandered off too far."
Just then, a lone figure started clapping from the shadows.
"Congratulations, Avenger," proclaimed a man in Emeriquan with a thick Rhuskan accent and a flowing red beard. "In nomine Satannis, parat!"
Avenger just smiled as he stepped towards Red Beard.
"I'm working for Extreme Orient this time, Mendeleev," he said in Emeriquan. "That means that I have the 333rd Supernatural Battalion taking turns calling down the protection of the Spirita Sancta for me. Your little spells won't work this time."
"Well then, maybe our bullets will." Mendeleev was smiling now as two men leapt through the trapdoor, aiming Lugers at his forehead. "Or maybe you'll concede defeat."
"I won't concede defeat," Avenger said, slowly lowering his Merlowes to the ground and coming back with hands raised. "But I won't give you any trouble until I think up a cogent plan of escape."
Mendeleev took in his statement, then nodded and laughed. "At least we're being honest with one another, eh? From one relic to another. Bind him."
"What about the gag, sir?" one of the men asked in broken Emeriquan. "What should he for help cry?"
"He won't cry for help. It would ruin his style. Now that we've managed to capture the strongest Xristomancer in Tochyo, Extreme Orient is helpless to stop us."
"Extreme Orient still has the secret of the Key."
"They're not the only one. Plus, we've gained a... bargaining chip from some friends. We'll have the Key soon enough, and then we can complete the Summoning. And when that happens, well..."
Mendeleev's eyes acquired a look of powerlust as a smile dawned anew on his face.
***
Half a world away, on the other end of that same continent, a young Nipponese man was mashing buttons on a controller when he felt a vibration at his hip. He flipped open a cell and barked "Shalom" into the receiver.
"Mushimushi, Mr. Tokura. We have another assignment for you."
Mr. Tokura set down the controller after hitting the START button, and he picked the phone back up.
"Sir, I am in the middle of my standing mission concerning the two witnesses. Taking on another assignment would drastically reduce my effectiveness in Ierusalim with the two."
"We have taken that into account, and decided that the urgency is warranted. You are to return to Extreme Orient Command at once. Lightsmith is close to getting the Key, and the Berberine Avenger has been captured."
Mr. Tokura's eyes widened in gravity.
"But, sir, they can't get it until-"
"We're not certain about that. Remember that half of Extreme Orient thought World War VI was the Burning Times. This could yet be another ruse."
"I have no real money on me. How am I supposed to get to Tochyo on thirty-four bucks?"
"The Vatican's special operations unit, Knightemplar, is dispatching a Mr. Winchester to Ierusalim. He will accompany you back and serve with you on this mission. He has the tickets. You will meet him at Ben-Gurion at Terminal 9 for Cipango Imperial Airways Flight 77 nonstop to Tochyo. He'll be the guy with the hyssop in his breast pocket."
"What time?"
"Monday, October 8 at 8:33 AM. Oh, and watch out - Lightsmith has people in Ierusalim. We think they're trying to find Freedom Radio, and thus you."
"Gotcha, chief. Anything else?"
"Nothing. World without end. Amen."
"World without end. Amen."
***
There was an adjoining chamber to the room with the pentagram, or at least Avenger guessed that when his blindfold was removed.
"Welcome to the last vestige of the State Security Committee, Berberine Avenger," Mendeleev told him. Avenger looked around and he saw a few computer terminals manned by mostly dark-haired Rhuskans. Three flags hung on the far wall; one was the red flag of the ancient Sophiate Union, one was the Rhuskan Imperial tricolor, and one was the green-and-brown of ancient Idealist Eurasia. "Of course, you might be more familiar with the initials K-"
"I know who you are," Avenger interrupted. "And I think I've figured out why you're helping out Lightsmith."
"Oh, really?" Mendeleev scoffed. "Try me."
"You're a national spy force without a nation, and you've traditionally led the world in this spooky occult nonsense."
"Now now, Avenger, stop being a hypocrite. You said yourself that you've invoked the Spirita Sancta. If that Xristomancy stuff isn't 'spooky occult nonsense', well then I don't know what is."
"Can't you Rhuskan bastards take a joke?"
"We don't have a reason to laugh. Not yet."
"And, God willing, you never will."
"You know that we're going to kill you just as soon as the Spirita is gone from you. A waste, too: you've been a worthy opponent."
"My deliverers are coming, Mendeleev. But even if they don't, I hope you know how this all plays out."
"Your fables won't save you, Avenger. It's all about power and we have that in spades."
"Then why are you afraid of the Spirita?"
He may have been a prisoner, but at least the Berberine Avenger got the last word.
***
A taxi dropped off Mr. Tokura at Ben-Gurion. Instead of wearing his civilian college student attire, he was dressed in black fatigues-standard battle dress for the 333rd. He had a sharpened silver cross around his neck, and dark sunglasses even though it was still early morning. He was prepared for anything.
In the airport terminals, there was a lingering feeling of dread, like something evil lurked on the horizon of time. The clerks behind the ticket sales counters were distant, and even the religious proselytizers handing out tracts were cold and curt.
"They know what's coming, somewhere and somehow," he mumbled to himself.
"Kenichi Tokura, I presume?" a man in black fatigues asked with a Scautish accent as he stepped in stride with him. He had a crewcut of red gelled hair, and he had a similar cross to Kenichi's around his neck.
"You're my partner for this mission?" Mr. Tokura asked.
"Yes. The name is Colin Winchester." He held out his hand. Kenichi took it absentmindedly, and they shook.
"Is there anything else?" he demanded.
"You're rather short," Colin said.
"I'm Nipponese. So?"
"No, I meant that you're not very talkative."
"Look, Mr. Winchester, I've just been called off of one of the most vital assignments Extreme Orient is pulling and I'm not happy about it. So, nothing personal, but I don't feel like talking."
"What do you mean? Berberine Avenger is legend. The guy should have his own action figure, pro fidem Dei."
"He got caught."
"And how cool is it gonna be for us when we rescue him?"
"Do people join up with your Knightemplar for 'cool'?."
Colin let it go, and they discovered that their flight had been delayed for an hour. The reason was that there had been a power outage in Roma, and traffic control couldn't clear any planes for takeoff for an hour. So planes were an hour late all over the Mediterre.
"We're gonna have to loaf around here for an hour. Any suggestions?" Colin inquired.
"Yeah. We try to raise EAIC Roma and figure out who sabotaged power and why," Kenichi said. "And we keep a very low profile while doing so."
"Why not the Vatican?" demanded Colin.
"Extreme Orient's spearheading this; just do it," barked Kenichi.
"What's the number for the Emeriquan Army's Iorepha Command?" Colin asked as he took out his phone.
"Nevermind," Kenichi sighed. "I'll do it."
He dialed the number and waited. The line was busy.
"What the hell...?" he exclaimed. "It can't be busy! There's like fifty channels! I should be getting somebody!"
Suddenly, Colin's phone started vibrating. He picked it up.
"Yes? Oh, it's you. Yeah, I'll tell him." Colin looked at Kenichi. "It's for you."
"Hello?"
"Kenichi, I was worried for a sec! First Roma, and then I can't get you..."
"I was trying to raise Roma, chief. What's up?"
"New mission. Something's coming through Ierusalim and you two happen to be the only people in the town."
"Can you give me a clue as to what it is?"
"We aren't sure, but it's big. We intercepted a Lightsmith e-mail talking about a 'shipment of bloodstains' from 'the five and first' to the 'City Most Holy'. The transmission was from an agent in Ednabura to an agent in Ierusalim, so we're guessing that the 'City Most Holy' is Ierusalim."
"Any clue how it fits into anything?" Kenichi asked.
"Circumstantial at best. A Lightsmith-affiliated cargo vessel has put in at Starnest Six in geosynch over Alkaero."
"What's his manifest say his next destination is?"
"Unspecified. He's only loaded enough fuel for an orbital trip, though, and he's wanted by Selenian authorities for smuggling guns."
"Then odds are he's headed for the Datalinks platform," reasoned Kenichi. "But the only reason they'd go there is to do long-range teleportation."
"Hold on," the chief interjected. "Intel says that something's happening in Ganymede. "
"Waitaminute," Kenichi interjected, "Intel also told us that the Coalition's got some sort of secret biogenetic project or something going down on Ganymede. Do you think-?"
"I don't know what to think. Piece it together and stop the shipment, whatever it is. Then get over to Tochyo on the double."
"Yes, chief."
"Oh, and Kenichi? If you don't get it after two rings, pro fidem Dei hang up. World without end. Amen."
"World without end. Amen."
***
"We need the manifests of all vessels bound for Starnest Six," declared Colin to the clerk behind the Information Desk.
"Who are you people?" she demanded. "That information is classified unless you're government."
"Um," Kenichi said, "We're with the Mossad."
"That's funny, you look like a Nipponese guy and your friend looks Iorephan. But I'm sorry, how could I not realise that you're actually Jewish..."
Kenichi pulled out his dogtag.
"Listen," Colin explained, "this is a matter of international security. We need to have those manifests."
"And... what, I'm supposed to believe you because you have a dogtag? At least give me a badge or a warrant."
Kenichi just sighed and leapt over the counter.
"Gag her while I search the database. We don't have time for this."
Colin obliged, ripping off the bottom of her skirt and using it as a makeshift gag. She just stared at them, wide-eyed, while they went about the business of getting the manifests.
"Here we are," Kenichi pointed out as the Ebreue letters rolled off the screen.
"You can read that stuff?" Colin asked, incredulous. "I can barely speak Emeriquan myself."
"I can and I can't. Long story. Now, a shuttle with the smuggler is headed up in fifteen minutes from Terminal Nine. He's bringing with him oversized cargo registered under the 'other' category. It's a wooden crate and some palms have been greased to silence questions."
"That's the other side of the airport," Colin said. "But at least we have our man. Let's get him."
***
The rain was still falling in Tochyo at that time. It was half a world away, and the sun had just set. Not that anyone in EAEOC's 333rd knew that, though. They were gathered in a circle, and their hands were linked and a stream of pure dark holiness could be felt emanating from them. Underneath their breaths, they were uttering words that they knew not in languages they had never heard but that made their home deep inside themselves. It was a groan, a desperate cry to be heard and to be subjected and to be nothing and thus be all by the power of death defeated. The dark holiness was unexplainable, a mystery that made perfect sense to the eleven in the circle out in the grey rain. They were soaked, and they did not know it.
One of them opened their eyes.
"Avenger," he declared.
Another's eyes opened.
"Kenichi."
A third.
"Colin."
They continued as before, except now the words "Avenger", "Kenichi" and "Colin" were interspersed across the whisperings.
***
The cell that Avenger was to spend the night in was small and empty save for a barred window and a cotton bed too short for his lanky frame. His stomach rumbled, for he hadn't eaten a bite since breakfast.
"How about getting some food in here?" he asked. "You call this service?"
The guard looked through the slits in the metal door.
"Shut up or I hurt you," he said. "No food."
Avenger decided not to press the issue, but simply stared out the window. He saw the same dirty alley, and the entrance that he had come in. A shard of a bottle of imported whiskey lay near the window, and the rest of it was not too far off.
He weighed his chances of overcoming an armed guard with a piece of sharp glass and decided that they weren't good.
He sat down on the cot and noticed that it was rather lumpy. He was also dismayed at the lack of a pillow. To compensate, he took off his jacket and he stuffed it into a ball. He then made to lay down on it and he tried to get to sleep.
As he drifted off to sleep, though, he felt a pulsating spirit of holy darkness scream within him and rampage with all abandon throughout the area.
***
Power was restored, at long last, to the city of Roma. This was a mysterious blackout indeed, for the police had ruled it sabotage. They didn't know who or why, but they knew it was sabotage.
An ancient man with white hair was sitting down to read the headlines in the center of the city when his phone rang.
"Papa?" the phone asked. "We have an extremely urgent dilemma to address."
The man known only as 'Papa' replied in broken Angol with a thick Italine accent. "What has happened?"
"Katie sailed an ark from Scauterre but it never arrived."
Papa's eyed widened.
"Who has it presently?"
"Lightsmith, we think. They ambushed Katie's men and they're headed to her hometown if the Emeriquans are to be believed."
"Katie's hometown...? She has five, does she not?"
"No, Papa. The first hometown, from the beginning."
"Ierusalim."
"Yes, Papa."
"Have we any in Ierusalim?"
"Only one man, Colin Winchester, assigned to a joint mission with the Emeriquan Army, Extreme Orient Command."
"Send a... how you say... message to Mossad, to Emeriquan Army, to anyone. We need stop Lightsmith."
***
Kenichi and Colin were hiding behind a pile of crates and boxes. There were workers moving the crates onto the vessel, and a little closer to the cargo bay doors there was a wooden crate marked in fifty different languages. In Emeriquan it said "Touchat not contentia in paen ov mortia!". In Espanique it said "No abra in nomen de su vida!" In Ebreue it said "����� �����".
"L'Mossad L'Yahweh," guessed Kenichi from the shadows.
"Translation?" Colin asked.
"Probably written by someone who doesn't know Ebreue all that well," Kenichi said. "They were saying that it belonged to the Mossad, but in the next breath they were saying that it belonged to Yahweh."
"Yahweh?"
"The actual name of the Judeo-Xristion God. Little-known nowadays outside of Judaism."
"How could something belong to both of those entities?" asked Colin. "Unless..."
"I always thought that it was under Templemount," Kenichi informed.
"We've had it since the Crusades," Colin informed. "But what would Lightsmith want with it?"
"I don't know, but we have to stop them," Kenichi resolved as he leapt from behind the crates with gun drawn.
"Freeze! Extreme Orient!" he shouted. Colin got up and did the same. The workers dropped the crates they were holding and they put their hands up.
The one who looked like a supervisor started chewing. Kenichi shot him.
"What the bloody hell was that!?" Colin demanded. "He was unarmed!"
"He sent a signal to someone inside," Kenichi said. "Brace yourself for anything." They then surrounded the crate marked in many languages, ready to protect it on pain of death.
Colin looked towards the transport, expecting Lightsmith agents to start pouring out.
Nothing yet.
Then the sound of steady clomping of a platoon of the Chi Xi Stigma came from the hallway.
***
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
The guard assigned to Avenger's cell was wary of the silence. It could mean anything. Probably, he was sleeping. But then, the Avenger had been "sleeping" before when the State Security Committee had captured him. The fact that there had even been a before spoke volumes on the danger of this man.
He felt a slight trickle on his inside shirt. Intrigued, he stuck his hand down his front and pulled it back.
There was blood on it.
Mystified at how this happened, he put it back in. He felt that the trickle had increased now, and he desperately tried to stem the flow with his hands. Soon the blood burst out, and his hands were filled with the viscous liquid. He felt faint, and he reached out to steady himself.
His hands struck the doorpost at the center and top. His hands went weak as well, though, and they went across the doorpost to the sides and then as he slumped down they went down the sides of the post. Along the way, they accidentally triggered the "open door" command on the door's security panel.
The guard then, with his last energy, tried to raise Mendeleev with his walkie-talkie.
***
The Chi Xi Stigma were dressed in white uniforms and armed with Italine-made weaponry. They blocked off the corridor and aimed their weapons at the two agents.
"You will cease this criminal activity and surrender peacefully," ordered the Chi Xi Stigma platoon commander neutrally. "We are authorized to kill should you give any resistance."
Kenichi and Colin looked at each other. Colin turned his head to the side, as if to ask a question. Kenichi nodded and they turned their guns on the crate.
"Shoot us and we'll shoot this crate," Kenichi said.
A lone shot rang out.
"Lower your weapons!" barked the commander.
The Chi Xi Stigma lowered their weapons ever so slightly.
"Good," Kenichi said. "So you know what's at stake here. Apparently your men don't."
"Who do you work for? Mossad? Knightemplar? KGB? Extreme Orient? Lightsmith?"
"Apparently they didn't tell you everything."
"They told me something extremely important was coming through here, and that some fifth column was going to try and stop it. My job is to stop the fifth column. Which would be you."
Kenichi nodded, absorbing the information.
"Open the crate, take out the contents and carry them to the ship and we'll let it go," Kenichi said.
"You're not in any position to make demands," the commander stated. "We do have you surrounded."
"I'm no stranger to Chi Xi Stigma protocols. We'd be dead unless you were specifically ordered to protect the item at all costs."
"You do realise that we're going to kill you after we put the object away, then."
"Yes," Kenichi said. "But do what I say or you'll have to report failure to your captain. You don't want that, do you?"
"One question, though," the commander said. "Why do you ask this?"
"Itchy trigger finger," Kenichi threatened. "Start working."
The commander ordered half the platoon to step forward and remove the crate. The crate was pried apart, revealing a gold box-shaped object covered by a white sheet. The commander began to remove it.
"Ah, no," Kenichi ordered. "Keep it on there."
The commander nodded and went to grab the box with his men. Some of them grabbed the box with the sheet, and some grabbed it with their bare hands.
The latter died immediately.
The few that hadn't touched the box immediately dropped it, sheet and all, and fled. Kenichi chuckled as he saw them depart down the terminal.
"You can stop laughing now."
Kenichi turned around and saw a bald man with a massive red beard standing at the ship's cargo bay door. He was wearing a grey trenchcoat.
"Grab it."
As he said the words, two men stepped forward and towards the box. They looked vaguely Mideastern, with thick black beards whose sides had not been shaven.
"You're sending them to their deaths, you do realise," Kenichi informed him.
"You underestimate my power, Mr. Tokura," the red-bearded one rebutted. He spoke with a Rhuskan accent. "They will live."
They picked up the golden box with their bare hands and started hauling it towards the cargo bay.
"I don't know how you did it, but you did it. Colin, kill them."
Kenichi and Colin both let out a shot at their heads. They both hit, going through their necks and severing their spinal cords.
They kept walking.
"What. The. Hell." Colin's eyes went wide and he stepped back.
"Speak of the devil, and behold his power!" The Rhuskan smiled broadly as the golden box entered the cargo bay.
"Right. Tell the captain of this rig that we can launch."
That devil-may-care grin bore down on the two agents as the door closed and the retros began firing.
***
The Berberine Avenger woke up and noticed that the door was open. He stepped out, and saw through his nightvision that the guard was lying in a pool of his own blood.
"This is odd. I wonder who my erstwhile saviour was."
He continued and found the carnage repeated throughout the compound. Although, for all his searching, he couldn't find Mendeleev. He shrugged, found his Merlowes, and started up the stairs, headed for the Emeriquan Army, Extreme Orient Command.