The Dragon's Return

by Stan Lee

  She struggled, but it was no use. She was pinned, stuck fast to the transparent plastic. The energy held her like a mounted insect.

  She couldn’t turn, could barely move. But she knew Carlos and Maxwell stood above her, watching.

  “No little power drainer for you, Jaz,” Carlos said. “Not for the Dragon. That requires a very special piece of machinery.”

  “Fueled by all the power of my complex,” Maxwell said. “I was hesitant to commit such a resource. It took Carlos weeks to convince me.”

  Jasmine still couldn’t move. With a sinking feeling, she realized something even worse: the Dragon power was beginning to leech out of her, seeping into the dome below.

  “Still,” Maxwell continued, “for the power of the Dragon, I would risk anything.”

  “You’re—” Jasmine gasped. “You’re not man enough to fight me personally.”

  Maxwell’s mocking laugh hovered in the air above her.

  “I fought you hand to hand once, Jasmine. And I lost. Believe me, I value victory over pride.”

  She squirmed, but it was useless. Maxwell had finally caught her, finally managed to tame the Dragon’s power.

  No, she thought. Not Maxwell—Carlos. I underestimated him again. Because despite everything…I can’t let him go.

  Her power was fading. She could feel the Dragon being pulled out of her, absorbed through the beam into the unseen machinery within the dome. From there—soon—it would be transferred into Maxwell himself.

  Then he’d be unbeatable.

  With a tremendous effort, Jasmine wrenched her head to the side. Maxwell hung back, shining bright, staring at the glowing bronze orb in his hands. He seemed almost in a trance, as if he were viewing some prophecy in his mind.

  Monkey and Snake watched from a distance, standing near the edge of the platform. They looked defeated, betrayed, like children whose parents had abandoned them.

  And Carlos stood nearby, the remote control in his hand. His eyes were glassy; his gaze was cold and utterly mad.

  I could take him out, Jasmine realized. I’ve got just enough power left. I could zap him head-on, knock him off his feet—and maybe interrupt the power transfer.

  But at this range, I might kill him.

  She couldn’t do it. It was impossible. Even if it cost her everything, even if the entire world paid the price, she could not kill Carlos.

  So she lay pinned like a fly, watching helplessly as her power flowed away. Below, the domes glowed brighter and brighter, the receptors flashed, the soldiers scurried back and forth.

  The Dragon screamed.

  STEVEN LEAPED AND RAN, kicked and jumped, swiped and grabbed, and swung his fists at his opponent. Malosi matched him move for move, sprinting and jumping around, swinging maces and nunchakus in the air.

  Steven lost track of how long they sparred in the flame-lit House of Elders. He began to feel the ghosts of past Zodiac wielders watching him, long-dead Tigers following his every leap and parry. He thought again of the old man in Berlin, of the mysteries buried in the dead Tiger’s words.

  Steven cried out in pain as a throwing star grazed his foot. He leaped up onto the wall, grabbed hold of an outcropping, and looked down. The white Tiger blazed up from Malosi, its energy-form shining brighter than the torches lining the walls.

  They were both Tigers. Steven had more experience with the Zodiac power, but Malosi was older, more muscular, and better trained.

  “Come down, little Tiger,” Malosi taunted. “Let your elder teach you a lesson.”

  Steven thought of his vision. He remembered the old tiger, circling around the baby.

  Then he caught sight of a blazing torch, hanging on the wall just a few feet away. The Tiger, he remembered. It’s afraid of flame.

  Almost without thinking, he reached out, grabbed the torch, and hurled it through the air. Malosi’s eyes went wide; the white Tiger weakened and reared back. Malosi jumped away.

  Steven almost laughed. That’s one I owe Maxwell!

  The torch landed in a pile of Roman shields. Its flame puffed out.

  Malosi glared up at Steven. Then he turned and strode across the floor to a display of ancient Chinese weapons. He picked up a very old sword with a black blade.

  “Iron,” Malosi said, not looking at Steven. “Song dynasty, I think.”

  “Earlier,” Steven replied.

  Malosi looked at him in surprise. “Maxwell said you didn’t care about your heritage.”

  “He’s wrong. As a general rule.”

  Malosi laughed softly. He threw the sword aside, picked up a stone axe, then tossed that away, as well.

  Cautiously, Steven jumped to the ground. “We gonna play with toys all night?”

  Ignoring him, Malosi hefted a thick, double-edged straight sword. Steven recognized it from his grandfather’s books. In ancient China, it had been an elite weapon—one of the most difficult of all swords to wield effectively.

  Malosi gripped it in both hands and turned toward Steven. The look in his eyes was deadly.

  Steven snatched up a Roman shield, barely in time, and the sword struck it with a deafening clang. The two Tigers stood locked together for a moment, their Zodiac avatars biting and swiping at each other in the air above.

  Then they were in motion again. Steven broke free and danced backward, out of Malosi’s way. Malosi roared and charged, tossing small cannonballs. Steven dodged, and the projectiles lodged in the wall behind him. One cannonball grazed his cheek, drawing blood.

  Steven charged and head-butted Malosi in the face. Malosi cried out and jumped back, startled. He dropped his sword.

  And that, Steven thought, is one I owe Liam.

  After that, the combat became a blur. One moment, Malosi was dragging Steven across the floor, over fragments of broken shields. Then Steven was slamming Malosi’s head into a stone wall over and over. Malosi punched Steven in the face; Steven grabbed his opponent by the hair and yanked him off the floor. Malosi pulled Steven’s elbow down and thrust a knee into his stomach. The two Tigers batted and circled, trading blows, absorbing incredible punishment.

  Sometime during the battle, another wall came down.

  Steven found himself in a small office with modern furniture, including a desk and chair. Fluorescent lights shone from a low ceiling. The whole room looked eerily normal—except for a few chipped Greek columns standing in one corner.

  Malosi advanced toward Steven from the hole in the wall. In one hand, he held a crossbow, shooting off bolts rapid-fire. In his other, a particle rifle spat energy blasts.

  Steven dodged and leaped onto the chair, then the desk. He caught sight of an ordinary sheet of paper, half-obscured by the desk blotter. The letterhead read CENTRAL BANK OF LYSTRIA.

  As Malosi bent down to reload the crossbow, Steven raised a hand. “Wait!” he cried.

  Malosi looked up. He didn’t put down either of his weapons. But he paused.

  Crouched on the desk, Steven gestured around the office. He pointed at the broken Greek columns. “Do you know what this place is?”

  “Yes,” Malosi replied in a gravelly voice. “It’s Maxwell’s House of Self.”

  “‘Self,’” Steven repeated. “Do you know why he calls it that?”

  Malosi shook his head, irritated.

  “This is Lystria,” Steven said. “The town Maxwell destroyed when he was making his reputation. This office, this furniture, even those ancient columns…they all came from that city.” He paused. “Two million people died there.”

  “That’s a myth,” Malosi said. “A story Maxwell spreads in order to reinforce his tough-guy image. He told me so.”

  “He lied,” Steven said. “Lystria was real. Ask Carlos. He’s seen it.”

  Malosi just glared at him.

  Then a great humming filled the room, vibrating the desk and lamps. A dull glow seemed to rise from everywhere at once. Steven looked around, searching for the source.

  Malosi’s expression was blank. He took a s
tep toward Steven.

  “What is it?” Steven asked. “What’s happening?”

  Malosi stared at him. Above his head, the white Tiger mirrored his stance, its eyes boring into Steven’s own Tiger.

  “You want to see?” Malosi asked.

  Without waiting for an answer, he turned toward a side wall and fired off the particle rifle. Energy bolts slammed into the paneling, splintering it. In seconds, the wall went down.

  “Come on,” Malosi said.

  Eyes wide, Steven followed him. They stepped into a vast open area covered with a thin layer of gray sand. Maxwell’s Japanese garden, Steven realized. Ox had told them about it: the place where Maxwell retreated when he wanted peace and serenity.

  But there was no peace there. The streams were dry; the trees had been uprooted and removed. Even the hills had been flattened, leaving only low rises.

  And in the exact center of the room, a gigantic column of energy coursed up from the ground, pulsing out of some hidden machinery below. The blinding energy beam passed straight up through an opening in the center of the dome.

  Steven crept near the beam. When he peered upward, he could see a bit of the night sky around the edges of the opening. Was that the hovering platform, just above?

  “What is this?” he asked.

  “The endgame,” Malosi said.

  Steven looked sideways at the blinding energy. As with the bars in Maxwell’s jail, he could see something in it. Just one image, repeated over and over again, running down the beam into the floor. Winged, spitting fire…

  “Dragon,” he said. “This is the Dragon energy.”

  Malosi nodded. “Soon it’ll belong to Maxwell. Again.”

  Steven stepped even closer to the beam. Below, the floor parted to reveal a huge cannon-like opening with circuitry all around it. That was the source.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Malosi said, “but I can’t let you do it.”

  Steven looked at him. Malosi seemed calmer, almost rational. Could he be reasoned with?

  “I have to stop him,” Steven said.

  “No,” Malosi replied. “He’s the only one who can handle this power.”

  “He’s been lying to you. All along, every step of the way.”

  “You’re just jealous,” Malosi said. “He chose me.”

  The beam pulsed even brighter. Steven glanced from it to Malosi and then back to the circuitry embedded in the floor. Could he reach the beam before Malosi stopped him?

  And if I do…what will the energy do to me?

  “He thinks you’re stupid,” Steven said. “He’s playing you.”

  A flicker of doubt crossed Malosi’s face.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “In the end, we’ll all be gone. No one will even remember us.”

  A familiar chill passed through Steven. Again, he thought of the old man’s words: When the power is gone…no trace of its hosts remains.

  “Maybe,” Steven said. “Maybe not.”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small heart-shaped qi amplifier.

  Malosi frowned. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a gift,” Steven said, “from my mother.”

  Again, Malosi’s expression wavered. “I never had a mother.”

  Steven frowned. He thought of his parents, who had neglected him for most of his childhood. He pictured them plotting and planning, arranging to trick him into receiving the Zodiac power—whether he wanted it or not.

  “You haven’t answered my question.” Malosi pointed at the qi amplifier. “What is that?”

  “She said it brought out a person’s inner gifts,” Steven said. He held the amplifier up to the glowing energy column.

  Malosi made his move, as Steven expected. Malosi leaped toward him, angling sideways to stay clear of the energy beam. His hand was outstretched, ready to grab the qi amplifier.

  Once again, time seemed to slow down. Steven felt calm, centered. He knew exactly what he was doing—what he had to do.

  He snatched the amplifier away and, with his other hand, grabbed Malosi around the waist. He twisted the larger man around, forcing Malosi’s arms behind his back in a wrestling hold. He wrapped his other arm around Malosi’s neck, pulling him close.

  “What—” Malosi struggled. “What are you doing?”

  “You’re a Tiger, like me,” Steven said. “And I think you’re a good person at heart. But the Tiger isn’t just physical power. It’s clarity of thought, purity of purpose. It’s about seeing through the lies, to the…the…” Another phrase came to mind, spoken by the old Tiger. “The big picture.”

  He looked up at the opening in the ceiling. Past the energy beam, around the edge of the hovering platform, a few faint stars were visible.

  Without loosening his grip, he juggled the small amplifier on the ends of his fingers. “She gave this to me,” he said. “But I think maybe…”

  Malosi stiffened in panic.

  “…maybe you need it more than I do.”

  The white Tiger raised its head and roared.

  Steven pressed the amplifier to Malosi’s neck and pushed the button.

  IN A REMOTE part of England, an ancient stone monument called the Arbor Low henge began to glow red-hot. Invisible energy pulsed from the stones deep into the Earth, charging the mystic ley lines with electromagnetic power. That power surged beneath Europe, down through Africa, and under the ocean floor, all the way to the other side of the world.

  Within the Arctic Circle, a team of explorers found their compasses spinning madly. The Earth’s EM field was shifting, creating ripple effects from the North Pole clear to Antarctica.

  In Australia, the Vanguard complex glowed bright. Hidden machines, mounted underneath each of the small domes, sucked energy from every corner of the world. Soldiers stood in neat rows along the pathways, staring at the power beams firing all around them.

  That energy fueled the transfer machinery, increasing its strength. Within the central dome, the energy was processed and amplified into the most powerful artificially generated EM field the world had ever seen.

  The only field that could absorb the power of the Dragon.

  The main beam shot straight up out of the central dome, through the platform hovering directly above. Its blinding glow covered Jasmine’s body, pinning her to the platform’s surface. She couldn’t see; she couldn’t move a muscle. She couldn’t even scream.

  But she could feel the Zodiac energy leaving her body.

  At first, Jasmine had found the Dragon difficult to control. The trick had been to keep it contained, to let out just enough of its power when necessary. The Dragon wasn’t exactly sentient; it didn’t think like a person. But she had the strange feeling it had come to respect her.

  Now, lying on the platform, she realized something else. The Dragon had kept her going. She’d become obsessed with the search for Carlos, possessed by the idea of attacking Maxwell and ending his reign of terror. The burning Dragon power had seen her through weeks without sleep, through countless dead ends in her quest.

  Now, she thought, it’s all over.

  The beam faded slightly. For a moment, she wondered: Has something gone wrong with the machinery?

  Then Maxwell crouched down and took her chin in his hand. She tried not to flinch.

  “You came into my home,” he said, his voice deceptively gentle. “And you took what’s mine.”

  “It’s not yours.” She glared up at him. “It’s mine.”

  He looked down at the beam, then back at her and smiled. “Not anymore.”

  Jasmine clenched her fists and struggled. But it was no use. The beam held her tight. And as its power ebbed, she realized something even worse:

  The Dragon was gone. The machinery hadn’t malfunctioned; it had just finished its work.

  Carlos walked up, looking calmly at his analyzer. “Just a moment,” he said. “The dome machinery is processing the Dragon power now. Every branch must be distributed properly.”


  Maxwell rose and turned toward Carlos. “You’ve served me well,” he said, placing a hand on Carlos’s shoulder. “I knew you would, in time.”

  Carlos shrugged and turned away, tapping at the analyzer screen.

  Maxwell smiled down at Jasmine. “A cold fish sometimes, isn’t he?”

  Jasmine felt a fist close on her heart.

  Carlos looked up from his analyzer. “Ready.”

  Maxwell’s face went hard. With one quick movement, he reached down and threw Jasmine aside. She tumbled across the platform, free of the paralyzing beam, and lay on her back, gasping for breath.

  Maxwell stepped very deliberately to the exact spot where Jasmine had been pinned. He raised his arms to the heavens just as a bright flash covered the platform. The beam washed over him, rising past him to stab into the sky.

  “Reversing polarity,” Carlos said.

  All around Maxwell, the Dragon rose up. It was his Dragon, not Jasmine’s: huge-jawed and sinewy, cruel and fierce. It seemed larger than ever before, its snakelike body coiling and curling all around him.

  “Oh, yes,” Maxwell said. “I’ve missed this.”

  Jasmine watched, helpless.

  There’s nothing I can do, she thought. I know the power of the Dragon better than anyone. No ordinary person can challenge it.

  And that’s all I am now. An ordinary person.

  She gazed at the shack, at the prison that held Liam and the others inside its walls. A wave of guilt washed over her. They followed me here, she thought. I led us to this point. There’s no one to blame but myself.

  Then the beam winked off.

  Maxwell shook his head in confusion. Carlos stepped forward, frowning at his analyzer.

  The power transfer, Jasmine realized. Something’s interrupted it!

  She stared at Maxwell. The Dragon still rose up around him—but it seemed weaker than before, less substantial. The Zodiac power hadn’t been fully infused into him yet. Maybe—

  A rattling noise seemed to descend from the sky, growing louder. Jasmine flinched and rolled aside.

  Steven Lee tumbled in for a landing, with Malosi in his arms.

  On Steven’s back, the jet pack coughed, spat, and caught fire. It was dented, Jasmine saw, and badly damaged. As Malosi leaped away, Steven twisted free of the contraption and tossed it aside.