Star Rebellion (38 page)

              I turned another corner then spun back to where I had been on the other side. The cars had finally stopped outside of a building that looked more like a fortified business office than an industrial storehouse, which were common around this area.

              I hesitated for a second before going back the way I had come. This wasn’t the time to get caught; it was the time to observe. I did a quick surveillance around where I was, or well, as quick as I could be while still doing a thorough job.

              There were two cameras, neither of which facing me. One was pointing directly at where the terrorists cars were, the other pointing at the space I would have to walk through to get there. I would bet almost anything that all other entrances were protected the same way, if there were even other entrances.

              On the other side of the buildings, I heard someone shout, “Alright, close them up!” It took me a second to realize he was speaking English.

              Why?

              I let the thought stay in some part of my brain for analysis at another other time. It could be ignored for now.

              I focused back on the two cameras. From where they were, almost any progress forward could be seen. I wasn’t going to be able to just waltz in there undetected, so I had to make a decision between time and stealth. If I went the route that would take the least time, then they would definitely be waiting for me. Even though the terrorists guys back at the restaurant were pathetic, I have learned to never underestimate my opponent. It could just be that they were the crappy group of the terrorists.

              If I went the stealth route to avoid as many of these guys as possible there was a chance something could happen to Darkstar and Erik. It would give the terrorists guys more time to start torturing them.

              My fists were already clenched at my side, and I knew that there had been no question about how I would do this. Someone had to survive to get Mr. Moscow to Rome. That’s what the mission was, and I will abide by the mission.

              I checked the watch I had programmed for Russian time. It was two in the afternoon, and from what Erik had told us earlier, that meant I pretty much had eight hours to do as I would. The flight time was equal to the time difference between Saint Petersburg and Rome.

              I would give myself until eight o’clock. If I didn’t have them out by then, I would go and get Mr. Moscow myself.

              I backed up to the most previous intersection and looked around, making sure there weren’t any cameras. Nada. Maybe they should try protecting the surrounding buildings better, but who am I to complain?

              I scaled one of the buildings and paused before I was about to pull myself onto the roof. I could hear breathing, and it wasn’t mine. I stayed waiting there, and I heard whoever was up there move, his feet shifting some of the rocks. He was moving away from me.

              I pulled myself up to the edge so that I was just able to see the top. A man dressed fully in black with a nasty looking gun was walking away from me on my left. He was about two feet from the edge and kept his focus down.

              Now I see why we are always told to walk in the shadows by the walls of buildings. Prevents idiots like this from seeing us.

              I lowered myself a bit and looked across the street. There didn’t seem to be a man on that side at least, so no one could see me clinging to the side of the warehouse. That was good.

              As the man passed another corner, turning his back to me, I hauled myself over the edge of the roof and lithely set down on the concrete ledge. I wasn’t going to risk the noise of the rocks and would trust my balance not to go toppling over.

              While staying in a crouch, I swiftly walked over to where the man was, always balancing on the ledge. Not even once was I close to tipping over.

              When I was about five feet from the man, I vaulted off of the ledge and wrapped an arm around his neck, forcing him to his knees while pulling back his trigger hand. I heard a bone snap as I held his wrist in a twisted lock.

              “Who do you work for?” I said, not loosening my arm at all.

              Some guttural reply came, one that I obviously could not understand. I barely let go a little, and the man took in a whoosh of air before starting to shout. I jerked my arm back up, not giving him the chance to get more than a whisper out.

              I put more pressure onto his arm. I would get the information.

              “I’ll ask again, and if you don’t want to slowly die from a punctured lung, you’ll answer me this time. Who. Do. You. Work. For.” I annunciated each word with a twist of his broken wrist.

              The man gasped in my choke hold and I loosened my arm again. He took a few heaving breaths before finally talking. “Okay, okay. Not know name! My orders in paper, in paper!” The man’s English was rough, but I could understand it enough. He had completely dropped his gun by now and was fumbling around in his coat pocket with his left hand. It was still shaking when he lifted a few papers up above his head.

              I let go of his wrist and pulled out one of my pistols and held it at the back of his head before grabbing the papers. The man didn’t even attempt to move after my arm left from his neck.

              The papers were completely written in Russian, which wasn’t surprising. “How am I supposed to know what these say?” I asked levelly before dropping the papers onto the ground.

              “Please, please! Don’t hurt!” The man was practically face down on the rocks by this point. He was groveling to save his life. I wasn’t sure if I should feel pity or disgust. I hated unfaithful cowards like him, even though they were helpful to get information. If I was in his place, I would take my organization’s secrets to the grave, punctured lung threat or not.

              I rolled him over with my foot and saw that the man was crying. I had a fully grown man who was part of the Russian terrorists in front of me, and he was crying. I decided that I felt disgust rather than pity.

              “Who gives you the papers?”

              “Messenger.” The word was skewered between the accent and crying, but I already had guessed that part. It was only obvious.

              “What do they normally say, the orders?” I clicked the safety off of my gun just for the sound. I wasn’t planning on shooting this guy, not unless he did something stupid.

              His breath was coming in gasps now and he moaned. “W-watch, look for tres-trespassers. Shoot them. Trespassers, shoot.”

              “When did you last get a new order?”

              “L-last hour.”

              “It said?”

              “Watch for the stars.”

              I nodded. That was expected and my respect for the terrorists grew a little. They hadn’t trusted the restaurant team to secure us, which was probably a good idea. No way was there a chance that that pathetic bunch of men would have gotten us if it hadn’t been for the captain managing to cut Darkstar.

              “What do you know of the stars?” I asked, using their term for us.

              “From Calsh. Mutants. Working for Russian government.” He said the last part with as much scorn as possible.

              I knelt down to face the man. It wasn’t good that they might have an idea about our power, and I wondered how they had managed to find out. Not many people had the slightest idea about what made the Calshians different.

              “What is your name?”

              “Markus.”             

              I nodded once. “Alright, Markus. Do you know what I want you to do?”             

              Markus was trembling again, and he swiftly shook his head no.              

              “I want you to go back into your base. I want you to tell whoever will listen to be afraid. To be very afraid, because Firestar is here. Tell them that I have come for my friends, and that I won’t stop until they give them to me. Tell them that if they don’t they will burn in the pits of hell.”

              I smiled nicely at Markus before grabbing his left forearm with my left hand. I pulled him to his feet, even though I could tell he really didn’t want to stand.

              “Now go.” I pushed him across the roof in the general direction of his base.

              The man stumbled a bit before managing to run. He walked across a platform that connected two of the buildings together, then disappeared. I walked over to the edge of the building I was on and heard shouting in Russian. So there was an entry point there.

              I made a mental note of it before laying on my stomach. Someone would come and look for me, and as long as they didn’t fully come over here, I wouldn’t be seen. I doubt they would come over here, they would probably blame Markus for seeing things, and tripping to get the broken wrist. He didn’t seem like the most capable man.              

              I had gotten good information from him, though. I knew that there were serious parts of the terrorists, or at least cunning. They were prepared for me on the off chance that I hadn’t been caught.

              I will have fun with this.

DARKSTAR

              Erik and I had been pushed to our knees when the man came running into the room. I half hoped it was because they had discovered that the terrorists boss had been murdered and was now laying in a pool of his own blood, due to Firestar.

              My guess was close at least.

              “Sir, sir!” Erik translated to me. They had stupidly put us right next to each other on the cold concrete floor. Unprofessional, I say once more.

              “What?” the guy who had brought us in shouted at the man. The person who had been with us was getting a lot more arrogant than he had been back at the restaurant.

              “Sir, the sentry on the southeast side said that Firestar had attacked him.”

              The man who had brought us in, damn did I need a name for him, looked up immediately. Oh, well he seemed surprised, now didn’t he.

              Commando walked over to us and looked down at Erik.

              “Firestar?” he said.

              “Yes?” Erik tried his best to hide his accent, though I think that made it even worse.

              Commando looked back over at the messenger. “Bring in the sentry, and tell the boss to wait. I don’t want him here if Firestar really is still out there.”

              “Yes sir!” The messenger ran back out of the room.

              Commando paced in front of us for a few moments, then went back to his fellow terrorists members. They conversed in whispered murmurs, constantly looking over their shoulder at us. At Erik.

              “What should I do if they stop believing?” Erik whispered.

              “I don’t know.”

              The Russian man looked at me and his eyes widened. Well, guess he had expected me to have all of the answers.             

              Commando came back over and cut the rope that was binding Erik’s hands together. “You will engage in a fist fight with me.”             

              Erik hesitantly stood up, and I could tell from his posture that he had probably been in only a few fist fights. I started rubbing my wrists together, trying to get loose from my bindings. This wasn’t going too well, if you hadn’t noticed.

              Commando noticed my slight twitching though. He motioned to one of the terrorists guys who had come in with us. “Make sure this one doesn’t do anything.”

              He had said it in English.

              The other guy nodded and stood behind me, forcing me to stop moving.

              Another man forced Erik to stand and I could tell that he would have much preferred still being bound. If Firestar was coming, it might be a good time for him to appear now.

              I slightly shifted on my knees, trying to put weight back on the balls of my feet. I knew how to fight without my arms. I mean, being out of it still from the blood loss and fighting from earlier might hold me back some, but I could fight.

              The man behind me snickered. “You shouldn’t have moved.” Apparently quite a few of these guys actually spoke English. How pleasant.

              I felt the man use the side of his hand to chop me in the neck. He knew the right spot to hit, and I felt my eyes blurring. I barely thought about hoping I wasn’t paralyzed from the neck down when I lost control of consciousness and collapsed onto the ground.

              I was back in the freaking dark cave that I had been while unconscious in Vladimir’s chamber. What the hell was up with this place?

              FIRESTAR

              Sure enough, someone had walked over, but he didn’t see me. Definitely a slacker, and definitely deserving of what was coming next.

              When I heard him start walking away, I stealthily stood up and pulled out a throwing knife from my pocket. I took my time aiming at his back, then with a flick of my wrist, I let the knife fly forward. I could hear the faint humming that came from it, but the man didn’t seem to hear it. Strange.