by The Eurostar
The swimming pool of the tourist resort facing the gulf of Del Mar is full of pale-skinned yuppies from the north, people from Chicago, Baltimore, New York, and many other U.S. cities, spending their fourteen days of holidays to catch the sun that has abandoned their land months before.
Hiding among them are six men and a woman from Thunder City, a Thunder City that, in this brave, new world, never was. They talk, sipping drinks on the border of the deep blue pool, like good old friends.
"Two hours remaining. Lorena, is the car ready?" asks Dan, alias Rhyme Guardian, floating on his back in the swimming pool.
"Yes. The only Testarossa on rent on the island." Lorena Burgos, the Lioness, looks at the golden Rolex at her wrist. "I gotta go, or I'll be late. Bye, guys. Good luck." The transdimensional sorceress stands up, and, as a multitude of eyes turn to look at her white, mini bikini, she bends over to pick up her sarong from the floor. The sight nearly gives one sixty-year-old businessman from Philadelphia a heart attack.
Rhyme Guardian turns to the others. "Patrick, have you checked on Johnny?"
"He's fine. Actually, he is enjoying the volcano," says Smasher.
"Good. I am sorry that he has to hide there, but a ten-foot man with rocky skin was impossible to bring here, even if metas are tolerated on this island. F7?"
The British agent is found distracted, his eyes following the swinging hips of a tall girl with a big, black mass of curly hair.
"Heh. Lorena is gone, eh, Agent?" says Steve, winking.
The face of Agent F7 turns to the young man with a serious expression. "Talk about women when you know what women are, Disco." And, facing Rhyme Guardian, he says, "I'm ready, Dan." The Englishman jumps pulls himself out of the water to sit on the border of the pool and then stand up. "I'm outta here. See you later."
Rhyme Guardian looks at the remaining MBLers: Disco, Smasher, Cadet, and Zed. "We don't know if this Vanguard IS the evil MBL, and if they are related to the changing of the time stream. I'm sure there is a connection, but it could be not be as direct as it seems. Actually, they could have changed their name because those terrorists chose an acronym identical to their own. We can't jump to conclusions. This is a test: we must keep the damage to a minimum. Cadet, have you studied those tapes?"
"I've spent three days with that damn tape, Dan. You know that perfectly well. I was in the room in front of the TV, and you were here in the pool sunbathing!"
"Hey, I was right next to you!" says Zed, splashing the Cadet by skimming the surface of the pool with his open hand. "If only I could wear my gauntlet here."
"Kristopher Schanz gave his life to save a country and the people who inhabited it, regardless of whether they were enemy or ally. That sums up who Chance was: a true hero. Maybe the truest hero of us all.
"I know how he felt. He rarely confided in anyone... and mostly it was Euro or Doc, with whom he shared a common vision with the former, before he lost his way to the soul sword, and a scientific and curious mind with the latter. In fact, Doc was maybe the one who should have held this speech, but I asked him to let the honor go to me... because I, too, knew Chance well, as I know each of you well.
"It's not my fault if I hear your thinking. I am a telepath, and despite training myself to exclude your thoughts from my mind, it doesn't always work. Sometimes your thoughts are loud noises I can't exclude... and Chance was one whose thoughts were louder... and clearer.
"He was a man with exemplary purity of thought. Perfectly focused, he always knew, in his mind, what was good and what was bad. There was no gray zone for him, as the difference between right and wrong were clear cut. But, far from making him a sanctimonious preacher, his peculiar vision of the world made him very compassionate with the weak and pitiless with evildoers..."
THUD!
Phil Smith's words die in the air, as an expression of shock, mixed with fear and excitation appears on the face of the Vanguardians attending the burial ceremony. But, strangely enough, despite his being the one to have his back to the cause of that reaction, he is the first to go into action, his guns ready in both his hands before he turns to face the menace.
Or maybe not strangely, because, as his eyes register the marvel and the fear on the faces, his mind directly reads the images causing those feeling from their own minds.
And when he turns, he doesn't feel the least surprise to see the Leviathan, the giant, lizardlike figure of Zachary Knell, the mad scientist once nicknamed "Doctor Clone" by his employees.
But finally, even he is taken by surprise, and a subtle feeling of fear, a chilling drop running down his spine, when one, two, three other Leviathans, identical to the first, jump into the cemetery.