by Grimm, Chewy Walrus, T5 and The Eurostar
Grimm and Dirk Bell carried the unconscious Priest and Danny Hearn inside the caves, where they found Phil Smith, Leslie Kline, Tayden, and the crowds inside. They found a spot near a wall to lay their injured allies while Tayden soothed the two men emotionally using his unique empathic ability. They were soon joined by Chance and Grissom Montag.
"What's the plan, mates?" Montag asked, looking around at the assembled group, or what there was of it.
"We need to figure out where we stand..." Chance began before being cut off by Dirk Bell.
"I'll tell you where we stand. We're in the middle of a hurricane, several of our team are injured, we've got two rejects from a Ray Harryhausen film going at it outside, our headquarters is damn near destroyed... Where we stand is pretty much up shit creek."
Chance felt his anger beginning to rise. He could see that he and Dirk were going to have to deal with each other soon. Before he could finish the thought, Tayden joined the group and began to use his abilities to turn Chance and Bell away from the coming confrontation.
Grimm, noticing this, turned to Phil. "Ameristar is still out there; she's hurt, may have a concussion for all we know. Wulf is out there fighting that beast, and the bastard that did this to Danny is also running around out there."
"What can we do?" Phil asked. "The storm is raging pretty hard out there right now. If we leave, we'll be killed."
Grimm stared out of the tunnel he used to enter the caves only moments before. "I'm going out there," he said, not turning his attention away. "If that fucker in the red robes comes in here, Phil, I need you and the others to protect these people with everything you've got. Understand?"
"Yes. If he comes in here, he's finished," Phil said, without a moment's hesitation.
Grimm turned and looked at him, taken off-guard by the newfound confidence in Phil's voice. Just this morning, he had been a completely different person. What had happened to Phil in the short amount of time to change him so? Grimm nodded and walked out to the tunnel, leaving the cave behind.
"Bugger's gotta be crazy's my bet..." Grissom whispered under his breath, as he stared wide-eyed as Grimm exited the cave. He popped a cigarette in his mouth and lit the end with a flare he had used recently to get a small fire going within the caves.
"You've got a point there," Chance said, stepping beside Grissom's position, crouched on a stalagmite.
"Yeah, well, if I hadn't heard word goin' 'round that the bastard weren't the avatar o' death or somethin' of the like, I'd say he wouldn't be comin' back alive," Griss said, taking a puff of of his cigarette and blowing the smoke out through his nostrils.
"I'm not sure that I buy the whole avatar of death shpiel," Chance said, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning up against the stalagmite. "And even if I did, being on a team is all about trust... and how does one trust an alleged avatar of death?"
"Trust has gotta be earned, mate," Grissom said, looking at Chance. "However, when it is, ya gotta be willin' to accept that it's been earned."
Chance pondered Montag's words for a moment. "Another good point, Montag."
"Call me Griss," Montag said, extending a hand. "My friends call me Griss..."
Chance eyed the three-fingered hand of Montag cautiously. He looked back up at Grissom with an arched eyebrow.
"If you can't trust your own teammates," Grissom asked with a gleam in his eye, "who can you trust?"
Chance's firm grip met with Grissom's as the two men shook hands. "All right then, Griss," Chance said, grinning slightly. "That's three excellent points. I may not approve of your methods, but as near as I can see, you're a good soldier and tactician... an asset to this team dynamic."
"Well, right back atcha, there, Chancey!" Griss said, spitting a puff of smoke out of the corner of his mouth.
"Say," Chance said, leaning in toward Grissom's ear, "care to make a wager on how long it takes the avatar of death to work on that thing?"
"Nah," Grissom said, eyeing Chance with a broad smile on his face. "Even I ain't about to go up against those odds."
The Big Cave of Wind, Vallemontagna mountain, the Alps:
Three men, leaders of the Circle of the Hoods who literally owned Europe, sat down in dark leather chairs and sipped Irish coffee. They wore dark brown-hooded cloaks and had grim expressions on their faces.
"The one sought by the Neanderthal has found the sword. I'm afraid your little plan to start those Aryan wars in Germany has to be put on hold. You will send a group of your best assassins and try to eliminate this latest threat. And, if possible, retrieve the sword."
"Hmmph... I don't need to try to kill him. My men are the best. And I can promise you positive results."
"Yes, well, we'll see what happens, won't we?"
"Ah, you are concerned with the target's associates. I assure you, we have handled metas before, and will take proper steps before engaging them in hand-to-hand combat."
The third man, whose face and hands looked like he was more ancient than Rome, looked the man in the eyes. "When it comes to matters such as this, it won't do to have a too-sure opinion of oneself. Remember that our opponents will also be out there looking for him. The Cloaks and their ridiculously caped-clothed members have as many resources as we have. No mistakes, or your suffering will be legendary, even in Hell."
Ameristar finally got the stars out of her head and walked out into the rain, when suddenly a glow from a building caught her attention. It reminded her of someone.
The door opened, and there was Crasher, her sister-in-arms. "So you couldn't stay away, could you?" said Jackie.
"Well... it's not exactly like that, but I'm happy to be here," replied Crasher, grinning. "Father has some news that you'd better listen to, so get in here out of the rain, and we'll talk."
Ameristar entered the building, which looked like an abandoned restaurant. The sign said Perdita Chimichurri, apparently a place for barbecue dishes.
Inside the low-lit kitchen, the old man awaited her. They hugged, and as he spoke, she could see that he was very, very tired, as if the years were starting to take their toll.
"My dear little girl, I'm afraid your assignment has been slightly altered. You will have to focus on being a guardian of life for the one now calling himself the Raptor. He is in grave danger, as he has found the eternal sword, Ladnikia. It can't be coincidence that he has found it now. The enemy is on the move, and we have to be ready."
Ameristar felt a chill through her bones. So this was it; the events that she had been trained for were finally going to happen.
She swore that she would do her best in both protecting the Raptor, but also Crasher, whom she loved more than life itself.
The old man with the bony eyebrows looked outside the window of the restaurant, where the fierce rain was nearly obscuring the sight. Then he turned toward the two girls.
"Nadia has deserted, so I have no other backup. Be careful."
"Wait!" said Ameristar. "Who is seeking Cicciotto? Hoods or Cloaks?"
"Both, and maybe others, too." The Neanderthal was vague. "I expect the Hoods to strike first. They really don't know the full potential of the sword. They see it as a technological marvel, the last relic of the incredible civilization of which they are only a pale remembrance. They don't... they can't understand the full potential of that blade."
"And the Cloaks?"
"The Cloaks know what the sword really is, the abominable truth behind it. They know that the blade, without her slave, is useless, and that only the Timeless Champion can be her slave. So I expect them to try to enlist Cicciotto into their own organization. Until yesterday, he would have not accepted, I am sure. Today... I don't know. Things are about to became very tense... and I haven't still found the Liber Vitae. I had Nadia on its trail, but she has disappeared. And with you two on other important matters, I have to find new champions for the quest. I have to go, now."
"Not yet!" said Jackie. "Wait a moment, please. Tell me more about the sword."
"Ladnikia. Just be aware that the blade is alive, and feeds on blood and souls. It take control of the mind of her owner, literally abusing him. He becomes her slave."
"Why don't we protect him by stealing the sword?"
The Neanderthal looked at her, a strange grimace over his face. "You could easily be killed in the process. No, each aspect, or incarnation, of the Timeless Champion needs, at one point in his life, to hold Ladnikia. Nobody can prevent it. How do you think he found the blade over this island? By chance? The blade was not here until the moment he needed it most. Then she left the reality where she was last and appeared right next to him. It's the way it always happens. Now I really do have to go!"
"Farewell!" said Ameristar.
"Bye, daddy!" said Crasher, waving her hand.
When the Neanderthal disappeared, Ameristar relaxed; the old man was always getting on her nerves. She turned toward the red-booted girl, whispering, "This place is full of vampires, and soon of Giorgios. Better if you leave, too."