by Stan Lee
Two faces loomed into view. The first belonged to a grim square-jawed man in a Vanguard uniform. His expression was neutral, but there was something in his unblinking eyes that made Steven shiver.
The other face was thin and pale, with stringy hair half-covering the eyes. A girl, Steven thought. Not much older than me.
The girl snorted. “Big deal,” she said, pointing her thumb at Steven.
The man continued to stare.
Steven fidgeted. The metal mold held him faceup, restricting his view of the room. The walls were also made of metal and angled inward, coming together in a single point on the ceiling high above. The room reminded Steven of something, but he couldn’t remember what.
Don’t freak out, he told himself. Concentrate!
He closed his eyes and tried to summon the Tiger. It roared back—a low, cautious noise. But it refused to come out.
That was strange. Normally, the Tiger hated confinement—and it always welcomed a challenge. Steven usually had to fight to keep it inside, not to coax it out.
It knows something, he realized. It knows something I don’t.
That was a frightening thought. If the Tiger didn’t want to act, there had to be a reason. Until Steven could figure out that reason, there was nothing to do but stall.
He opened his eyes and turned his head as much as he could, staring at the square-jawed man. “Dude,” Steven said. “You work for Maxwell?”
The man said nothing. The girl leaned her head toward Steven and laughed, a short nasty laugh.
“Maxwell’s crazy,” Steven said, a tremor creeping into his voice. He could already tell he wasn’t going to win them over.
“I’ve been called worse.”
That was Maxwell’s voice: deep, confident, and arrogant. A jolt of fear ran through Steven. He squirmed, rattling the mold confining his body.
The man and the young girl stepped back, out of view. Then all Steven could see was the bare metal walls.
“Oh, you’re panicking,” Maxwell said. “Sorry about that. I suppose we can let you see what’s going on.”
A soft hum filled Steven’s ears. The mold receded from his head, retracting into the table. The formfitting prison still held the rest of his body, but he could move his neck.
The room, he saw, was round and filled with freestanding machines. The uniformed man stood a few feet away, still studying Steven with an unnervingly steady gaze. And beside him, as expected, was Maxwell himself, tall and imposing in his crisp military uniform.
Inside Steven’s mind, the Tiger grew a little stronger. He could sense it sniffing around, exploring the slight increase in physical freedom. But it still wasn’t ready to show itself.
Maxwell turned away, toward a cluster of computers a few feet away. The stringy-haired girl was just seating herself on a stool, facing a dizzying array of high-tech equipment. Steven noticed his wallet and phone sitting on a table, next to a large monitor.
“Thank you, Mince,” Maxwell said.
The girl gave Maxwell a self-satisfied smirk, then started tapping at a touch screen.
Steven tried to stay calm. The last time he’d seen Maxwell, the Vanguard leader had attempted to leech the power out of Steven with his bare hands. More than a year had passed since then—but sometimes Steven could still feel Maxwell’s fingers gripping his shoulders, the fierce Dragon-blasts searing into his flesh.
The other man, the one with the square jaw, spoke up for the first time. “Steven Lee,” he said. “The boy who would be a Tiger.” He didn’t sound impressed.
Maxwell turned to the man. “Don’t underestimate him, Malosi. Steven does indeed hold the Tiger power within him.”
Steven flexed his arms; still nothing. Stall, he thought again. Keep him talking.
Give the Tiger time.
“I beat you twice, Maxy,” Steven said, smirking. “Want to try for three?”
Maxwell smiled back. The other man—Malosi—clenched his fists.
“Correction,” Maxwell said, like a teacher gently coaching a student. “You escaped me once. The second time, you dealt me a setback.”
“So arrogant,” Malosi said, glaring at Steven.
“What are you, the waiter?” Steven said. “Get me a beer.”
Malosi’s eyes went wide with anger.
Maxwell laughed. “Young Mister Lee,” he said, “you truly have the heart of a Tiger. If things were different, you might have become my finest soldier. Better than all of them.” He turned away and seemed to look off in the distance, as if remembering something that had happened long before. “Better than Jasmine, even.”
“Hey, I’m not going anyplace.” Steven shrugged, rattling the mold slightly. “Make me an offer.”
“Don’t trust him,” said Malosi.
“Oh, he’s just playing for time,” Maxwell replied. His voice was deep and steady. “I had young Steven by the throat last year, his life hanging by a thread, and he defied me. He’s not going to join me today, or tomorrow. Or ever.”
So much for stalling, Steven thought.
“What now?” Malosi turned to look at Steven again, and a flicker of doubt seemed to cross his face. “Are you going to alter his mind?”
“That would require the Dragon energy,” Maxwell replied, “which is not currently in my possession.”
Malosi nodded slowly. He seemed thoughtful, maybe a bit troubled.
“Besides, I’ve sworn never to use the Zodiac power that way again,” Maxwell said. “I prefer my friends to be true friends, and my enemies to hate me as they choose. The Dragon’s mind control is…”
He hesitated.
“It’s wrong,” Maxwell finished.
Steven let that sink in for a minute. Maxwell, worried about what’s wrong?
“We’ll proceed as planned,” Maxwell continued. “Mince?”
The pale girl swiveled away from her computer screens.
“Please activate the qi transfer generator,” Maxwell said.
For the first time, Mince looked startled. “Me?”
“Why not? The Operator has trained you.” Maxwell took a step toward her. “You understand the equipment, don’t you?”
A slow, greedy smile crept across Mince’s face. “Oh, yeah,” she said.
She turned away. Her fingers flashed from one touch screen to another. A low hum began to rise throughout the room.
The Operator? Steven wondered. Who’s that?
“Don’t worry,” Maxwell said, turning back to Steven. “Mince is a prodigy. She knows what she’s doing.”
“Yeah?” Steven replied. “She kind of looks like a psycho.”
“I’ve got three advanced degrees, butt face,” Mince said. “How ’bout you?”
Maxwell laughed. “Children, children. We’re all here for the same reason.”
“I don’t think I am,” Steven said.
“Of course you are,” Maxwell replied. “You just may not enjoy it as much.”
The hum was getting louder. Come on, Tiger, Steven thought. Come on!
“It’ll take a few minutes for the generator to warm up,” Maxwell said. “That gives us time to continue this enlightening conversation.” He loomed over Steven, turning the boy’s head to stare into his eyes. “Do you know the very first thing I ever learned about waging war? When I was just starting out?”
“Always act like a big dumb tool?” Steven asked.
Malosi took a step toward Steven, fists clenched. Without even looking, Maxwell held out a hand and stopped him.
“Never rush a campaign.” Maxwell’s voice was calm. “Plan every step carefully, adjust as you go, and keep a measured pace.” He paused, frowning. “I forgot that lesson last year. I allowed myself to become greedy, careless. That’s how Jasmine was able to steal the Dragon power from me.”
Steven closed his eyes. He tried again to coax the Tiger out, to force it to understand the urgency of the situation. But the Tiger just sat, crouched in some dark corner of Steven’s mind, as Maxwell droned on
.
“Being defeated is a valuable experience,” Maxwell said. “It’s humbling. It forces a person to take stock, to examine what’s really important. To focus more directly on his goals and take careful steps to reach them.
“Would you like to know the steps I took?”
“Please, teach me, Yoda,” Steven muttered, his eyes still closed.
“Step one: recruit the help you need.”
Despite himself, Steven opened his eyes. Maxwell was staring up at a small rectangular window set high on the wall. The space beyond the window was lit up like a projection room, but Steven couldn’t make out anything inside it.
“Step two,” Maxwell said, “fashion the proper tools. That prison holding you tight, the equipment Mince is using. Everything down to the design of this chamber itself, here at Vanguard headquarters. Do you recognize it?”
Suddenly, with a shock, Steven did. It looks like the Convergence chamber, he realized, the place where we first got our Zodiac powers. Only it’s smaller, scaled down, without the pools of Zodiac energy.
“Step three: divide your enemies.” Maxwell smiled. “All I had to do was separate her from the only teammate who might be able to help her…”
“…me,” Steven said.
“It was incredibly easy to lure you to Berlin. Just a hint that you might learn more about the Tiger…” Maxwell laughed. “Don’t worry. You will, soon enough.”
“Get a little closer to me and you’ll learn about the Tiger,” Steven sneered. “Jarhead.”
Before Steven knew what was happening, Malosi punched him in the face. Steven’s head exploded in pain. He caught a quick glimpse of Malosi’s face, twisted in rage.
“Have some respect,” Malosi hissed.
Steven tensed up. The mold clattered around him. He felt the Tiger rise up inside, roaring and howling, responding to the attack.
Maxwell grabbed Malosi’s arm and pulled him away. “Watch,” Maxwell said. “This will be instructive.”
At last the Tiger burst forth. The ghostly cat form took shape in the air, roaring and swiping out against its enemies. Steven felt the mold around him bend, starting to give way—
—and then fire ignited all around him. Hidden gas jets, concealed within the confining mold, flared to life, raising small flames around the outline of Steven’s body. He looked at the inferno and felt a bone-deep terror.
The Tiger, he realized. It’s afraid of fire!
He struggled and squirmed within his prison. The flames licked his skin, singeing his arms, but he stayed calm. I could shatter the mold and break free, he thought, if the Tiger would just act….
But the Tiger was terrified. Its power was intact, still strong within Steven, but it was paralyzed with fear, helpless. All its instincts told it to flee for its life.
Steven flexed his muscles, but it was no use. The trap, the bizarre ordeal, seemed to have been designed for him and him alone.
He felt the Tiger recede, hiding inside him once again. Without its power, its assistance…
…I’m just a kid.
It knew, he realized. The Tiger sensed the fire trap as soon as we got here. That’s why it didn’t want to come out.
Maxwell waved a hand in the air. The flames died down, disappearing into the molded prison.
Steven slumped back, exhausted.
“You know nothing about your power,” Maxwell said, “and Jasmine knows nothing about hers. She may have taken the power from me, but she’ll never hold it.” He paused, looking off in the distance. “Only I can control the Dragon.”
Then another person spoke, the voice amplified and distorted by some hidden speaker system: “Keep your eyes on the boy. He’s still dangerous.”
Malosi frowned. Mince looked up, irritation on her pale face. Maxwell turned toward the lighted window high on the wall and nodded.
Is that the Operator? Steven wondered. Is he up there?
He realized he was breathing fast. The flame ordeal had drained him physically, but worse than that: He was really afraid. His only hope of getting out of there was the Tiger—and it had failed him. Maxwell, or someone working for him, had known exactly how to defeat it.
Something else was bothering Steven, too. The voice of the hidden Operator…it struck a vague chord in his memory. Something he couldn’t quite remember. Maybe something he didn’t want to remember.
Malosi stood at attention, rigid and contrite. Maxwell walked over to him.
“You shouldn’t have struck young Steven,” Maxwell said. “You are my child, too—more than him, more than any of them. You must be worthy of the gift you are about to receive.”
“I’m sorry,” Malosi said.
“We are brothers,” Maxwell said. “Brothers-in-arms. This is a war we’re fighting, make no mistake. We all obey orders…from other soldiers, from forces within ourselves, from the stars themselves.”
Malosi nodded.
“You’re a good soldier,” Maxwell said. “A good son.”
Steven twitched his arms, testing the mold again. His head was still free, but the prison held the rest of his body even tighter than before; he could barely wiggle his fingers. The Tiger had dwindled to a tiny presence in the back of his mind.
The hum in the room shifted tone, becoming a high whine. Mince whirled around in her chair.
“All systems dope,” she said, then grinned. “I mean go.”
“Very well,” Maxwell said.
“Wait,” came the amplified voice of the Operator. “Stem seven is blocked.”
“Mince?” Maxwell called.
“I flushed out all the branches….” The girl peered at her screens. “Oh. Yeah.”
“Run the qi cleanse protocol,” the Operator said.
Mince turned away from her station, her finger hovering over a touch screen. For just a moment, she glared up at the lighted window on the wall. “I know,” she said.
Maxwell moved to look over her shoulder. His expression was hard. “Mince, you are the second most brilliant scientific mind in all of Vanguard.”
Mince kept her face turned away from her boss. Steven saw her clench her fists. She seemed possessed by some sort of rage.
“‘Second,’” she repeated.
“Yes,” Maxwell continued. “But you’re only sixteen years old. Learn from your mistakes.”
Mince started to breathe hard. Her fists trembled. She was almost as young as Steven and physically small. But Steven had the feeling that, if she’d had something sharp in her hand right then, Maxwell would be dead.
“Maybe…” Mince still didn’t look at Maxwell. “Maybe I should be going to the prom instead.”
“If you fail me, that’s not where you’ll be going.”
Mince inhaled sharply. Then she blinked twice and whirled back toward her screens.
“Running cleanse protocol,” she muttered.
“Don’t force the energy,” the Operator said. “Let it flow along the lines.”
That voice, Steven thought. It was distorted, masked by the speaker system, echoing off the metal walls. But…
No. No, it can’t be.
The whining in the room rose to a high pitch, then settled to a steady drone.
“Got it,” Mince said. Then she looked up at the lighted window, as if waiting for the voice to correct her again. But the Operator said nothing.
“Well,” Maxwell said, striding back over to Malosi, “shall we?”
Malosi followed Maxwell to the table where Steven lay. “That equipment,” Malosi said, pointing at the molded prison. “Is it for the transfer?”
“Oh, no.” Maxwell smiled. “That’s just to hold him in place.”
“Transfer?” Steven asked. “What transfer now?”
Maxwell leaned down and smiled at him, an almost fatherly smile.
“This is your lucky day, Steven,” he said. “You’ve never met another Tiger before.”
“Your guys killed the other one!”
“Oh, him. True.” Maxwell gest
ured at Malosi. “Good thing there’s a third.”
Steven turned to stare at Malosi.
“He’s a Tiger?” Steven asked.
“The Tiger,” Malosi said. “I was meant to have the power that you stumbled into during the Convergence.”
Malosi seemed hungry, filled with pride. A fiery rage burned behind his eyes.
Suddenly, Steven remembered his vision. Three Tigers, he thought. An old one, gray-furred, whose time had passed. Mine, of course.
And a baby, newly born.
Maxwell reached into his coat and pulled out two small metal objects. He lunged forward and clapped them onto Steven’s forehead. Steven cried out and squirmed, but some sort of glue kept the devices affixed to his temples. And the mold held him tight.
He felt the metal devices clamping tighter, pushing tiny tendrils into his skin. He scrunched his eyes shut and twitched his head back and forth in panic.
“Now,” Maxwell said, “the final piece of the plan.”
He held up a small bronze sphere. It was dented and very old, but Steven could feel the Zodiac power radiating from it. He remembered the old man’s words:
They created weapons…artifacts designed to contain the Zodiac energies.
Steven struggled to keep his cool. He cocked his head at the sphere. “For me?”
“In a way.” Maxwell smiled. “Malosi, take your position—”
A phone rang.
Everyone looked around, confused. A flash of anger crossed Maxwell’s face.
Mince hopped off her stool and ran, puzzled, to a nearby table. She picked up Steven’s phone.
“It’s the kid’s,” she said.
“Ignore it,” Maxwell ordered.
The phone rang again.
Mince peered at the screen. “No name on the caller ID,” she said. “Number is 812-555-5424.”
Steven’s eyes grew wide. Kim, he thought. That’s Kim’s number. She must have gotten the message I left, back in Berlin, and finally called back.
Panic surged through him. Steven’s team carried wave blockers, which prevented an enemy from detecting their Zodiac energy signatures. Kim still had her blocker; under normal circumstances, Maxwell couldn’t track her. He wouldn’t even know she’d left the team.
But if they answer that call, Steven thought, if they figure out who it is…they’ll know she’s in America. They’ll know she’s alone. And they’ll go after her!