by The Eurostar, Grimm and Danny
The Lost City of the Dragons, Peru:
Edulcore Cicciotto:
This time I am not leaving my mark. This time, Don Diego Vega, or Senor Zorro, like I am known among the peasants of this land, has killed.
The Spanish colonel is dead on the ground, blood coming out of the corner of his mouth. Bernardo, my mute servant, is kneeling over him, and then raises his face toward me, shaking it disapprovingly.
I put my blade back in the scabbard. I am on the top of the cliff. There is no time to give this man a proper burial; the sea will be his tomb. With my foot, I push the body just beyond the rim of the rock. The waves swallow him, in a cold embrace.
Tayden is looking at me, eyes wide open. "That sword is devouring you, Edulcore. Throw it away, you still have time."
I look over the cliff. On the other side of the lake, my friends have captured the Omicrons. Out of the mountain, among the huts that surround the entrance to the lost city, the people are returning, following the big female dragon.
"Tayden, this man was trying to kill me. I just defended myself," I say.
"There is always another way," he whispers, heading toward an open door in the middle of nothing. The door is kept open by the book. I take it back, then M'xy steps in behind us. Strangely, he is silent.
On the other side of the door, my MBL associates are reunited, and with them are the Omicrons. I raise the book exultantly, but nobody seems happy. Many are wounded, there is blood splattered all over, and all of this just for this book. I wonder if...
...No, the important thing is that we have succeeded. We have found the book. Nothing else matters.
"Ed, hand me the book," asks... well, orders Tayden. I quickly hand it to him. He seems surprised.
The people of the village are around us. The dragon is purring quietly at Drax. Then, the two giant furry beasts take flight, heading for the top of the mountain.
Meanwhile, Danny, Grimm, and Chance, the three field leaders, are consulting closely. They even speak into Chance's satellite phone... with La Perdita, I suppose.
The people of the Lost City are all around us, now. They are wondering what has happened, and look puzzling at the tied-up Omicrons. Among the faces, there is one that is familiar. But I can't remember where I saw it.
Then, the three stop talk in the phone and call us.
Chance speaks. "I have just spoken with Dr. Quantos. There are problems with the company. It seems we're heading for bankruptcy. Pete's money has dried up!"
Dirk takes out the cigar from his mouth, spits, and then says, "With the money for the book, we don't replace that fortune, but it's enough for continue until we find more work. And this recovery will be a very good way to establish our rep."
Danny coughs and then says, "Problem is, the people of this place claim the book as essential to their survival. When we took the job, it was said that we had to RECOVER a book. Now, to take it, we have to STEAL it. I don't feel this is right, but it's a thing on which we have to decide, all together. We must vote. Who is for keeping the book?"
Surprisingly, no hand is raised.
"Good, then," says Danny, smiling. He raises the book in his hands. "Who is your leader?" he asks, slow and loud, facing the crowd.
The one whose face is familiar steps further. "I am Joaquim de Cuccubao," says the man, and I instantly recognize the face as the one it was on the portrait we saw at the Uffizi Museum.
"The book is yours," says Danny, handing it to the man.
"We have seen you fight valiantly with these criminals," says Cuccubao, pointing at the Omicrons. "Sadly, we can't let people who have found our location return to the outside world, or else someone will return -- searching for the book, or the dragon, or the spring of youth -- and our peaceful lives will be destroyed forever. So, I am sorry to order you to remain among us. And I assure you we have means to force you into doing so."
This is not going out as I planned. We'll have to battle again. And now that we are tired and underpowered by the battle with the Omicrons.
Then, a thundering roar comes from the top of the mountain. We all turn to that directions, and we seen the two dragons taking flight in big circles.
Then, out of the gates of the Lost City, come three guards, garbed in colorful clothes. They talk with Cuccubao, who listens to them with increasing surprise in his face. He then turns and says, smiling, "Draconia will live!"
We look at him, puzzled. He smiles again, then explains. "Draconia is the name of the city. The high priest told you that a prophecy said the city would survive only until the last dragon lives. Well, after a millennia, our dragons have laid eggs! And your dragon has fertilized them! You strangers have gifted us with a new future!"
Danny scratches his head. "That means?"
"That you can leave. There is no need to keep you prisoner, now," explains Cuccubao.
"Well... good... but what has changed? Your fear for the outside world should be the same, no?" asks Velo.
"But now we can leave this place and look for a new place to hide our existence. With a new generation of dragons, we don't need the water of eternal youth to keep the dragon alive. We can leave the side of this lake."
Drax lands near us, on his face a satisfied expression. "That was sweet, guys!" he roars.
The rest of the story is quite simple. We took the Omicrons with us, the ones called the Sheik, Rose, X-Acute, Mimic, and Arges. Of the one we met at the tower, Xyber, there was no trace. Johnny Omicron, the leader, I killed.
We found our hovercraft, the Stormloader, nearby the clearing behind the mountain. We left the lost city at UFO speed, while Chance and Velo were talking about the intentions of the people of Draconia.
Chance: "You really believe they'll renounce immortality so easily?"
Velo: "Why? Do you actually believe that the water of a lake can give eternal life?"
Chance: "You yourself saw Cuccubao."
Velo: "I saw a face with a more than a vague resemblance to the painting of Cuccubao. It could have just been a descendant of the sailor, my friend."
I stop to listen their conversation and open my backpack to see if my camera is still intact with all the action it has endured. The pack protected it well enough.
Perfect.
Behind the Stormloader, the Gulf of Mexico runs away faster than a speeding bullet. And ahead, the island of La Perdita is ready to welcome us, a little green marble lost in the blue.
Mandelovia:
The large, twenty-foot-tall concrete walls that construction crews were working on night and day were almost done. When finished, they would completely surround the land-locked side of Mandelovia, the only thing taller being some of the spires of the buildings of the nation's capital city, New Mandelovia. Spires that resembled something out of the Fritz Lang film, Metropolis. New Mandelovia resembled an art deco city of the future.
Huge war mastiffs patrolled the perimeters on all sides of the country at oddly timed intervals. Oddly timed, so as to prevent any possible intruders from timing them and sneaking into the country. In the countryside, farm children briefly looked up from play to wave at the mastiff's controllers. The impassive controllers merely continued on their way.
Within the capital city itself, a large parade was taking place. Banners hung downward from buildings, bearing the image and sigil of the President-Prime Minister of Mandelovia. A large, six-wheeled automobile with a white body, gold-painted trim, and a convertible top (which was down) slowly moved down the main street of the city. The President-Prime Minister himself sat on top of the back of the car, his trusted aide, Colonel Nemo, seated below him and to his right. The President-Prime Minister was smiling and waving as streamers and confetti constantly rained down on him and his entourage. Today was Colton D'goon's birthday.
Nemo looked up at the President-Prime Minister and spoke. "I do not like this, sir. We are too much in the open."
"Relax, my friend," D'goon replied between waves. "I have my best people located all around us, in vehicles, in the crowd, in buildings... No one will be able to get to us."
"I hope," Nemo answered, suspiciously scanning the crowd, "that you are right."
"You worry too much, Nemo," the President-Prime Minister continued. "You are thinking perhaps of our new allies? Or my traitorous son?"
Nemo started to say something but fell quiet at the mention of D'goon's son.
"Ah, that's it, isn't it? You worry over my son and his so-called rebel militia. Fear not, my friend. This Heritage of Mandelovia movement will fail, as have all that opposed us before."
The motorcade continued on down main street.
La Perdita:
Edulcore Cicciotto:
The sun hides behind the volcano, and the sky instantly takes fire in a symphony of reds and oranges and violets. I will never get accustomed to the tropical sunsets.
I am on the roof of the apartment complex, the part, at least, that didn't get destroyed in the hurricane. There is a small greenhouse, all of its glass shattered, but inside it some plants still survive. One in particular fascinates me: a flower, crimson red.
Danny told me that here lived a man named Turkish who stayed with the MBL for a short time. I like this place. I think I will come to live here when the building is rebuilt. If it will ever be rebuilt.
We are broken. Totally broken. The one called Pete, who was the one to found this place since the beginning, has died or disappeared into some strange place, as Chance confusingly explained to me, but in any case legally has not been possible to declare him dead, and his fortune will go back to some sort of foundation... not that I clearly understood the thing. But in short... MBL Consulting is broke.
Yes, Grissom has said that he will fund for some time the company, but surely all the work on the building will have to be suspended indefinitely.
The lucky part is that my fortune is still intact. Minus the part that I had to spend for the advance. I must say that I thought that the part for the MBL was a complete loss, and the fact that a fraction of it would have returned to me was the only good in it.
I was wrong. In the end, it was the MBL to get the book.
Frankly, I had hope only in Project Omicron. What the Hoods told me about them was unbelievable. Complete success in all the missions accomplished. Exceptional skill in combat AND in archaeological investigations. In fact, at first I wanted to employ just them. Then, this fun loyalty I felt for the MBL made me do a double call... and to give the mission also to the MBL.
I would never have thought that the Omicron would have returned from the lost city aboard our hovercraft, beaten and mocked. And I heard their talk on the flight. Whispers, but easy to follow for my eagle hearing. They were talking of breaking up. With the death of their leader, there was no reason to stay together. That, in the MBL, would never happen. At least, in MY team. In this MBL, still I don't know. But surely it's better trained, better equipped than my Revolutionaries. Good soldiers, if only if they would be better directed. Although Danny is a revelation. The leader role is tailored to himself.
We let the Omicron guys to take their ways at the airport of Mandelovia. They were surprised that we left them to go freely after they tried to kill us. But what could have we done? Spoil us in the process? But they are not really disappearing. Unknown to them, I gave them a little gift, courtesy of Hoods technology. I feel in the future I will need them.
I take out of my backpack my digital camera, the one I bought in Florence. Safely stored in it, there are the pictures of each page of the book of life, that I shoot when I was hiding at the top of the spring of eternal youth. I never dreamed that the chance would have given me such an occasion.
Now, from both the Omicrons and my comrades, words will spread in the underworld that the book has not been rescued, and that it is lost forever, without any way to recuperate it. Whoever wanted the book -- the Futurists, Collins, the Mafia, Crasher's father -- they now know that the book is lost forever.
And that is true. Just, a duplicate of it now exists. And it's in my hand.
I did it. My mission is accomplished.
Now it's time for me, Edulcore Cicciotto, to be elected leader: leader of the Hoods.
Elsewhere:
Pneuma walked silently up the aisle of the departing airplane, unnoticed by both the staff and the passengers.
He'd made his way through customs without once seeing a security guard or walking through a metal detector. And he'd simply strolled through the gate toward the plane without having to present a boarding pass to anyone.
And here he was, on the plane, and he'd found what he was after. A row of empty seats, near the back of the plane. He wouldn't have to stand or sit in the aisle, after all.
While he wouldn't have had any real problem with ejecting someone from their seat, it would draw unnecessary attention.
He sat down in one of the empty seats and relaxed. He raised one hand and ran it over the opposite wrist, checking things. The gauntlets remained in perfect working order, so he could still appear completely invisible to the naked eye for as long as he wished. He smiled.
Project Omicron was over. That much he was sure of. Johnny was dead, and the others had been apprehended by that other team of mercenaries. Even if they managed to reorganize themselves, their reputation was shot.
No, Pneuma would have to forget any possible future employment by Project Omicron.
But that didn't really matter. After all, he knew where they kept all their money, the quite impressive profits from their various missions. He knew the bank account numbers and locations of safe deposit boxes. He knew secrets that even Johnny Omicron had thought private.
Yes, Pneuma could set himself up rather nicely.
Of course, the other team members wouldn't like it when they came for their share of the profit and found it gone. They'd be rather pissed off. But he doubted they'd come after him.
And if they did... well, he knew their secrets, too.
As a stewardess walked past, Pneuma grabbed a beer from the back of the cart and knocked a packet of peanuts onto the floor. He picked up the peanuts, then unscrewed the top of the beer.
Yes, Pneuma was going to be just fine.