by Tim Waggoner
Unfortunately, Nicks—sunglasses on, wearing a hoodie under a black leather jacket—was one of the people on the wrong side of the rope tonight. But he was patient. He could wait for the right opportunity to present itself, and fortunately for him, it looked like it was on its way right now. For the last several minutes, he’d been watching a particularly edgy-looking guy who’d been giving the bouncers the stink-eye. The man wore only black jeans and a pair of boots, but he was covered with intricately detailed tattoos on every inch of his exposed flesh, including his face, so he looked not only as if he were completely dressed, but as if he were also wearing a mask. Tatman, as Nicks thought of him, was bouncing up and down with barely constrained energy, and Nicks guessed the man was psyching himself up to make a go at the door. He let out a series of short breaths—huh-huh-huh—and then he ran toward the club’s entrance.
Give ’em hell, Tatman! Nicks thought.
When the crowd saw what the man was doing, they let out raucous cheers, but Gossamer grabbed hold of Tatman and lifted him off his feet as easily as if the man weighed no more than a toddler.
Gossamer seemed more amused than angry. “Look, man, you want to get into this party, you either gotta break some bones or break some records.”
Tatman swore as he thrashed in Gossamer’s arms, and the man’s exertions drew the other guard’s attention. That was what Nicks had been waiting for. While the second bouncer was momentarily distracted, he slipped under the rope and hurried through the entrance before either bouncer could notice. He was in!
Valhalla’s interior was a riot of sight and sound, a relentless sensory onslaught so overwhelming that it felt as if his consciousness might flip the off switch to protect itself from the tsunami of input. Nicks, of course, loved it. In Norse mythology, Valhalla was the sacred realm where the spirits of dead warriors spent eternity in glorious battle. This Valhalla was a paradise for warriors too. Not those who fought with sword or spear, but rather those whose weapons of choice were bikes, boards, boats, skis, parachutes, and hang gliders. Music thumped and lights flashed as skaters and bikers took turns on a ramp, tricking over the bar, while a sexy MC amped the crowd up from the stage.
“You’re gonna have to get louder than that!” the woman shouted. “Okay, guys, are you ready for the main event?”
The crowd roared, and Nicks could feel the floor vibrate beneath his feet. He grinned. Now this was what he was talking about!
He saw superstar athletes in every direction he looked, and he began to make his way through the crowd, fist-bumping perfect strangers as if they were long-lost friends as he went. As he passed a Who’s Who of the most dangerous sports in the world, their stats ran through his mind.
Nyjah Huston. X-Games Gold Medalist. Thrasher Magazine Skater of the Year. 1.6 million followers.
He gave Nyjah a fist bump and kept going.
Nina Buitrago, aka The Burrito. BMX Metro JAM Champion. Broken jaw. Reconstructed shoulder. Quote: “Life is better on two wheels.”
Dani Windhausen, aka Dani Lightningbolt. BMX Ripper. Broken ankle, broken wrist, shattered knee. Quote: “Living the dream!”
Jamie Anderson. Snowboard shredder. Olympic Gold Medalist. Slopestyle World Record Holder. Broken collar bone.
He stopped to give Jamie a hug, whispered a quick joke that was extremely filthy, and she laughed and punched him on the shoulder. Grinning, he moved on, heading in the general direction of the stage. He felt an itching sensation on the back of his neck, which he took as a warning, and he glanced over his shoulder to see that the big bouncer was tracking him through the crowd. Unconcerned, Nicks looked forward once again and kept moving, passing more of the awesome and the famous as he went.
Chad Kerley. BMX Freestyle. X-Games Gold. Pro at 17. Fractured jaw. Six teeth removed. Quote: “I could ride from New York to China.”
Nicks saw a pair of security guards making their way through the crowd toward him, and he knew that the bouncer had alerted them to his presence. He continued on, weaving his way through the crowd, using the people for cover.
A beautiful brunette walked toward Nicks, probably on her way to the bar or the restroom, he thought. He recognized her, of course: Roberta Mancino. Skydiver. BASE jumper. Wingsuit flyer. Daredevil. International Supermodel.
Nicks knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t resist. He removed his sunglasses, stepped up to Roberta, and gave her a quick kiss. At first she looked upset, but then he smiled sheepishly and shrugged, and she laughed, shook her head, and moved on.
The bouncer and the security guards were closing in on him. He’d better haul ass if he didn’t want to get tossed out on it. As he drew closer to the stage, his mouth dropped open when he saw who was standing there, waiting for the next set to begin. Tony Hawk. The Birdman. Nine-time X-Games Champion. First inductee to Skateboarding Hall of Fame. Vert God. King among men.
Then he imagined what his own stats might be: Nicky “Nicks” Zhou. Just some guy. No known records. No known injuries. No known anything.
He laughed and kept moving toward the stage. As he did, the MC shouted, “You ready for the main event?”
The crowd cheered.
“I don’t know,” the MC said, sounding doubtful. “It doesn’t sound like you’re ready…”
The crowd screamed, louder and louder, stomping their feet so hard that the entire building shook. The MC grinned, clearly enjoying bringing the crowd to a fever pitch. The crowd knew she was working them, and they ate it up.
“Maybe I should just tell him to skip his set tonight,” she said. “How ’bout that?”
Louder, louder, louder…
“Maybe we should all just go home…”
Louder yet, the noise so intense now that it rolled over Nicks like a physical force. Without anywhere else to go, Nicks hopped up onto the stage.
The crowd went silent then, confused, and then the MC shouted, “Show him the love! Give it up for… The Hood!”
The crowd exploded into thunderous applause, and Nick pulled up his hoodie face mask and turned around. Spotlights moved to focus on him, giving the crowd its first good look at the Hood’s “face”—a bald, somewhat alien-looking visage with shadow-shrouded eyes. In the audience, the bouncer and the security gazed up at him, confused. Nicks thought about flipping them the bird, but then decided against it. The guys were just doing their jobs, right?
The MC approached Nicks and handed him the microphone. She gave him a peck on the cheek—or rather, on the mask over his cheek—and winked.
“What took you so long?” she said.
“You know me. I like to make my entrance.”
Nicks jumped behind a set of turntables and dropped a massive beat. Impossibly, the crowd’s cheers became even louder, and Nicks wouldn’t have been surprised if the sound caused the building to collapse. Talk about bringing the house down, he thought. New stats flashed through his mind then:
The Hood. 100,000,000 streams. 100,000,000 likes. 100,000,000 followers. Quote: “I don’t party. I live.”
* * *
“So what’s his specialty?” Marke said, clearly irritated. “What’s he do?”
Xander smiled. “Mostly he’s just fun to have around.”
RAF WELFORD, BERKSHIRE
Xander stood in the Globemaster’s cargo bay as three Suburbans pulled onto the runway. The bay door was open, and Xander watched as the vehicles stopped at the rear of the plane and their passengers disembarked. He grinned.
“Look who it is,” he said. “The good, the badass, and the completely insane. Now this is a team I can get behind.”
Adele, Nicks, and Tennyson walked up the ramp to greet him.
“Read a rumor on PsiOps you weren’t really dead,” Tennyson said.
“Did you?” Xander said.
Tennyson looked back and forth, as if to check if anyone was listening. “How many lives you got?” he said, his voice low. He sounded as if he seriously believed Xander had somehow been resurrected from the dead.
“Depends on
who’s counting. Good to see you, Tennyson.”
Xander gave the man a hug. When the two men pulled apart, Nicks moved in to snag a hug of his own.
“You still partying?” Xander said when Nicks stepped back.
“Always,” Nicks said with a grin.
Adele came forward then.
“Ho, so you’re counting lives now? How many do you owe me?” she asked. “Two, three?”
“I’m not counting Sri Lanka,” Xander said.
“How you gonna not count Sri Lanka? One, two, Sri Lanka.”
“I count this way,” Xander said. “One, two…” He turned the back of his hand toward her and held up the first three fingers. “Read between the lines.”
“I swear, you—” She drew her fist back as if she intended to punch him, but instead she laughed and went in for a hug instead.
“Oh, see? This is what I miss,” Xander said.
* * *
Xander asked Becky to come down to the cargo bay and show his friends some of the cool toys they were going to have a chance to play with. Becky joined them and immediately began opening equipment lockers containing a cache of high-tech gear and weapons, as excited to show them off as the others were to see them. Tennyson and Nicks stood in awe, while Adele stepped forward and began pulling everything out to examine it. Xander stood back and watched with amusement while his friends acted like kids in a candy store—and a very lethal candy store, at that.
Becky removed a box with a pair of metallic gloves, and Nicks gave a low whistle when he saw them. “Whoa, I’m gonna need a minute. This is mine!”
“These are my favorite, too,” Becky said. “They’re called Exo-Gloves. They’re DARPA’s new ground combat technology. Pneumatic pistons drive the gears and quadruple the speed and power of your punches.”
Tennyson picked up a metal box from a nearby steel table a little too roughly, and the sides fell away. An alarmed look came over Becky’s face, and she thrust the box containing the Exo-Gloves into Nicks’s hands and rushed toward Tennyson.
“No, no, no, no! That’s a multi-stage signal disruptor. It’s very, very breakable.” She took the device from Tennyson and gently put it back on the table.
Tennyson looked around, then leaned in close to Becky and whispered, “Can you tell me the real reason behind the crash of Pan Am 103 over Lockerbie?”
“No,” she whispered back.
Tennyson frowned. “You can’t or you won’t?”
“Yes,” she said, and then added, “Aliens.”
Tennyson’s eyes narrowed, and he looked at her for a long moment. Finally he said, “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”
Becky smiled. “If I was, I wouldn’t tell you now, would I?”
Nicks had put the box containing the Exo-Gloves on the floor, removed one, slipped it on, and now he started air-boxing with it. Becky saw what he was doing, and she turned away from Tennyson, no longer smiling.
“Hey, easy there, Rocky,” she said, sounding nervous. “Those things have enough force to—”
Nicks’s movements somehow activated the glove, and the pistons ratcheted back and slammed forward, causing the glove to slam into a bulkhead with tremendous force.
“—punch a hole in the frickin’ plane,” Becky finished.
Startled, Nicks stepped back and looked at the damage he’d caused to the bulkhead. “I can fix it,” he said.
“Don’t worry about it,” Becky said. “It’s not like there’s anything expensive here. Just keep screwing around. What could possibly go wrong?”
Nicks removed the glove and handed it back to Becky. “But that’s my style, though.”
She gave Nicks an uneasy smile. “Good. I’m glad. Good, good.” She returned the glove to its box and then put the box back in the locker it had come from. Then she noticed Adele assembling a next-gen sniper rifle on the table. Becky started toward Adele, panic on her face.
“I’d really rather you didn’t…” Becky began, but then she trailed off as she watched Adele’s hands moving with smooth, confident precision. “Oh, you actually know what you’re doing. That’s refreshing.”
Adele didn’t look up as she worked. “That’s what she said.”
“Speaking of what people said…” Becky stepped next to Adele and lowered her voice. “You and Xander seem… close. How did you two meet?”
Adele finished putting the rifle together, and she lifted it into firing position, getting a feel for the weapon. “My back was against the wall, two bullets in my leg, and I was surrounded by insurgents. Then Xander Cage comes out of the smoke, machine gun in one arm, rocket launcher strapped to his back.”
“Wow!” Becky said, wide-eyed. “That’s frickin’ amazing! Only Xander Cage could pull that off. Where was it? Syria? Lebanon? Afghanistan?”
“Nuketown,” Adele said as she looked through the rifle’s scope. “Call of Duty.”
Becky frowned. “Like the game?”
Adele lowered the rifle and looked at Becky, her expression deadly serious. “Like the way of life.”
Xander grinned. This mission was going to be fun.
* * *
The Globemaster took off not long after that, and while Adele, Nicks, and Tennyson were getting a tour of the Command Center, Xander and Becky were alone in the cargo bay. Xander had his shirt off and he was trying on an armored vest, attempting to get the fit just right, but he couldn’t quite—
He heard Becky come up behind him, felt her reach around his body.
“You, um, need to… fix this strap. Here, I’ll do it. I just need to get a little closer to see. Not a lot of light here.”
She pushed close to Xander and tightened the straps of the vest around his torso. When the vest was snug, he turned around to face her. She didn’t back away, but she swallowed nervously.
“So what are you?” Xander said. “My handler?”
She reached out to finish the vest’s upper straps and cinched his torso tight, the motion a little more forceful than strictly necessary.
“Whatever you need,” she said, her voice throaty. “I can handle anything. I got a firm grip. Or so I’ve been told.”
Xander raised his left arm. Becky’s hand was clamped around his wrist.
“I can see that,” he said.
“Sorry.” She let go of his wrist and took a step back. “There’s something I should tell you.”
Xander raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“It’s nothing like that,” she said. “. Just so we’re clear: I don’t get off the plane. Don’t even ask. It’s in my contract.”
“You know, outside is where all the fun is.”
Becky spoke fast then, even faster than she usually did. “Fun scares me. People scare me. Guns scare me. People with guns scare me. If I’m scared, I can’t do my job. And if I can’t do my job, people die. And if everyone dies, who am I tech supporting? Literally no one. But I’ll make sure to keep you safe.”
A tension-filled silence fell between them then, one that Xander finally broke with a laugh.
“Keeping me safe ain’t easy.”
He took off her glasses. She was beautiful with them on, but without them—without the barriers between her and the world—she gained an added vulnerability that was almost irresistible.
She stepped closer once more and leaned forward, as if she might kiss him. But instead she said, “Challenge accepted.”
* * *
By unspoken agreement, Xander and his team had made the cargo bay their headquarters, so when it came time for Marke to brief them, she did it there. Everyone gathered around a monitor mounted on a wall, and Becky brought up images of the thieves who’d broken into the CIA installation and stolen Pandora’s Box.
“I’ll make this easy for you,” Marke said. “These four assholes: very bad guys. Pandora’s Box: very bad thing. We’ll land in Manila, and you will requisition your own transportation to the island where they’re currently hiding out.”
“Yo,” Nicks said, “why don�
�t we just nuke the bitch from orbit and call it a day?”
Marke bristled at Nicks’s less-than-professional tone, but she said, “Pandora’s Box is one of a kind, and it must be recovered intact.”
Tennyson scowled. “Why? What’s it do? Brainwave scrambler?” He thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, it’s a brainwave scrambler.”
Marke tightened her lips in irritation. “It killed Gibbons is all you need to know. The rest is classified.”
Adele tilted her head back and sniffed a couple times. “What’s that smell? Oh, I know.” She lowered her head and fixed her gaze on Marke. “Same old shit, different suit.”
Marke responded with barely restrained anger. “You think a dog knows how to work a Frisbee? Master says fetch and the bitch listens.”
Adele held her newly acquired rifle. In fact, she’d barely let go of it since putting it together. She now slotted a round into the rifle, raised it into firing position, and looked through the scope, the weapon’s barrel pointed directly at Marke. Marke held her ground, but it was clear from the uncertain expression on her face that she wasn’t sure how to react.
“I know that game,” Adele said, “except usually I’m the master.” She lowered the rifle and looked at Marke as if truly seeing her for the first time. “You know, I think you’d look really hot with a Frisbee in your mouth.”
“I’m not here to play,” Marke said, regaining some of her composure. “The point is, you are all my soldiers now.”
“I’m a baller, not a soldier,” Nicks said.
“Oh, hell no,” Adele said.
Xander had remained quiet up to this point, but now he was getting pissed. “I dropped your soldiers over Eastern Europe.”
Adele jerked her chin toward Marke. “Why’d you leave Lassie behind?”
Marke’s eyes blazed with fury. “This is my operation, and you will listen to me!”
This situation is about to go seriously off the rails, Xander thought. “Guys, come on. Fall back.”
Marke didn’t say anything for a moment, but when she finally spoke, most of the anger had left her voice. “Yeah, take a breather.”
Xander’s team glanced at him and then walked away, pointedly not looking in Marke’s direction. When the three of them were out of earshot, Xander turned to Marke.