by Stan Lee
Roxanne rose to her feet, still screaming. Got to maintain the assault. I’m rusty with the Zodiac power, but so is she!
Josie struck a punching bag and rebounded, landing on the hard floor. Roxanne paused to take a breath—and in a second, Josie was on her feet again. Roxanne whipped her head back and screamed, the Rooster avatar crowing in time with her powerful cry.
Josie recoiled, but she held her ground. With great effort, she moved one foot forward. Then the other. Slowly, she began to advance on Roxanne.
Impossible, Roxanne thought. Nobody’s ever resisted my sonic cry before. How is she doing that?
“Determination,” Josie gasped, as if she’d heard the question. “You might want to learn about it, girl. If you want to be a hero.”
Roxanne opened her mouth wider. She called on the Rooster power, all she could marshal—every bit of will and determination inside her. The scream rose in pitch, shattering lightbulbs on the high ceiling.
Josie didn’t stop. She pushed her way forward, step by step, through the searing wall of sound. The Horse reared, front hooves clawing at the air.
She’s almost here, Roxanne realized. And she’s right; she’s stronger, better trained, and physically larger than me. I can’t beat her.
But I didn’t come here to beat her, did I?
Josie reached through the sonic wall and punched Roxanne in the stomach. Roxanne gasped as the breath was forced out of her. The noise stopped, the Rooster faded, and Roxanne fell to the floor.
She managed to roll onto her knees. But Josie was right there. She grabbed Roxanne and clamped a hand over her mouth. Then she slammed Roxanne down on the floor and laid her other arm tight across Roxanne’s windpipe.
“Like I said,” Josie hissed, “you’ve got one trick. And you can’t use it if you can’t catch your breath.”
Roxanne twisted and struggled. The Rooster flickered and flashed on and off above her. But Josie’s grip was like iron. Roxanne couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.
“Give up,” Josie said. “Now.”
Roxanne nodded quickly, frantically.
Josie released her. Roxanne tumbled away, coughing and gasping.
Josie dropped to all fours, breathing hard. “That trick of yours,” she said. “It’s not a bad one.” She collapsed to the floor.
Roxanne lay down beside her. “You’ve got some moves yourself.”
For a moment, the only sound in the room was the two women’s labored breathing.
“You”—Josie gasped—“you didn’t ask me here so you could kick my butt.”
Roxanne said nothing.
“You knew I wasn’t myself,” Josie continued. “You thought you could snap me out of it.”
“Busted,” Roxanne admitted.
“Did Nicky put you up to this?”
“Not exactly. I just…I knew you weren’t the woman I fought last year.”
“My dad died.”
Roxanne propped herself on one elbow. Josie lay on her back, eyes closed.
“I didn’t like him much. He wasn’t nice to my mom, back when she was alive.” Josie sighed and opened her eyes. “But he was the only family I had left.”
“I’m sorry,” Roxanne said.
“And I wasn’t there for him. I was wasting my time in a jail underneath Maxwell’s Aussie complex.” She shook her head. “Alpha, the Vanguard agent, he didn’t know. When he mentioned my dad, down in the volcano, I almost killed him.”
“I get it. When I first got my Zodiac powers, my maman—my mother—she threw me out of the house. I was devastated.”
Josie just stared at the ceiling.
“I’ve been playing again,” Roxanne blurted.
Josie turned to look at her. “Music?”
“Yeah. Privately, in my quarters. Just started a couple weeks ago, after Maxwell stole our powers.” She closed her eyes. “I haven’t told anyone.”
“Electric guitar?”
“Just acoustic. Noodling around, really. But I wrote the beginning of two songs.”
“Your usual save-the-whales crap?”
Roxanne looked over sharply. But Josie was smiling. “I checked out your stuff online.”
“Music used to be my whole life,” Roxanne said. “The Zodiac power ruined all that….It was too dangerous for me to perform in public. I missed that, more than anything.”
“So with your power gone, you thought you might be able to get back to playing music. But now your power’s back.” Josie frowned. “Why didn’t you tell anybody?”
“I’m not sure. I guess maybe I thought the music would go away on its own. That circumstances, or my own lack of inspiration, would take away this precious gift.” She laughed. “That sounds tres pretentious.”
“You are pretentious, little Rooster. But you’re pretty inspired, too.”
They lay side by side. On the ceiling, a broken bulb crackled and went dark.
“Do you have any happy memories of him?” Roxanne asked. “Your dad?”
“He taught me to rotate the tires on a Jeep.”
Josie’s jaw clenched reflexively and her eyes lost focus for a second. She shook her head, stood, and brushed off her uniform.
“If I can’t quit,” she said, “neither can you. Not now, anyway.”
She reached out a hand. Roxanne took it and allowed the larger woman to pull her to her feet.
“Deal.” Roxanne frowned. “Five days in the jungle? Really?”
“I cheated a little. Smuggled in some Cajun fries.”
Roxanne laughed.
Josie clapped an arm around her shoulders. Roxanne winced under her grip.
“That Nicky,” Josie said. “He’s got a big mouth. Let’s go find him and kick his doggie butt.”
Josie nodded. “Then Maxwell.”
“Yeah. Then Maxwell.”
They walked out of the training room, arm in arm.
WHEN STEVEN LEE WAS SIX, he liked to pretend he was sick. Even at that age, he knew it wasn’t a nice thing to do. But it got him a lot of attention from his grandfather, and it was practically the only way to get his parents to notice him at all. So he heated up thermometers to make it look like he had a fever, and practiced fake-coughing until it almost became real.
One day little Steven doubled over in pain, clutching his stomach. Grandfather glared at him, convinced that the boy was faking again. But when the spasms continued, Grandfather rushed him to the hospital. The doctor said they’d arrived just in time: Steven’s appendix was about to burst.
The pain was almost unbearable. The doctor fit an anesthetic mask over Steven’s face. The last thing he remembered was his grandfather’s calm eyes gazing at him. Then the world dissolved into a dreamlike haze.
Jasmine’s machine reminded him of that. He was sitting in the cold medical bay, fitting the electrodes onto his temples. He glanced over at Jasmine, who’d pulled up another chair on the opposite side of Carlos’s bed. She wore the second set of electrodes, and she’d attached a third set to Carlos.
Jasmine grimaced, nodded, and activated the machine.
At first, Steven couldn’t tell if anything had happened. There was no flash of light, no blurring of vision, no clear barrier between the outer and inner worlds. Just like in the hospital years before, one moment he was in the medical bay; then he was somewhere else.
Loose soil crunched beneath his feet: brown, rocky, devoid of vegetation. The sun burned blood red, low in the sky. The air smelled of sweat, smoke, and spices.
Steven felt a touch on his arm and whirled in surprise.
He knew instantly that the four figures facing him were Zodiacs. But if he’d had any doubt that he was in another world, now he knew for sure. They possessed the same powers as the Zodiacs, he knew, but they were different people entirely.
A withered man with a scarred neck staggered toward Steven. Above his head, an emaciated Snake crawled low, eyeing Steven with suspicion.
A large woman with tired eyes followed Snake. She sported a Ram avatar with a cracke
d horn.
A tall lanky man stared at Steven with concern. A blind Rat rose above him, its eye sockets bare.
And then there was Dog. But this Dog had dark fur, matted and patchy. The avatar above him was missing several teeth. Its tail was a stump.
With a shock, Steven realized: This isn’t a vision—not exactly. It’s a memory. One of the other Tigers, centuries ago, lived through this. This was his team.
“Boss?” Dog growled. “This don’t look good.”
That wasn’t English, Steven thought. It wasn’t Chinese, either—at least not the kind Grandfather used to speak. But I understood it.
Dog pointed off into the distance. Steven turned to look—and saw a low village made of timber and mud-brick huts, a few kilometers away across the rocky plain. Several of the huts were on fire, flames rising in the fading light.
Then he saw the riders—three of them, horses galloping away from the village.
Heading straight toward us.
“Tiger?” Rat touched his shoulder, an oddly gentle gesture. “What’s the plan?”
Steven turned to look again at the unfamiliar Zodiacs. They seemed ragged, injured, exhausted. Something terrible had happened to them.
“Rabbit’s gone,” Ram said, her voice filled with despair. “Monkey, too.”
“Pig?” Snake asked.
“She was in the village.”
The hoofbeats grew louder. The riders wore gold armor, and even at that distance, Steven could make out the quiver of arrows on each one’s back. Again he remembered the words of the ancient Tigers: “Even the memories…of ourselves, of the friends we cherished in love and in battle…all this was lost.”
The lead rider drew up, pulling on the reins of his horse. The animal’s forehead was covered with a close-fitting, intricately patterned plate of armor. The warrior’s helmet matched his steed’s and was fastened to tight chain mail covering his torso. His shield bore the crest of some long-forgotten kingdom.
The rider signaled with one hand. His two companions moved forward in formation, flanking their leader. They stared down at the Zodiacs.
They’re going to kill us, Steven realized. This is for real. It all actually happened, long ago. I can’t stop it.
A cruel smirk stole over the lead rider’s face. He raised a thick weapon, a high block of wood crisscrossed with metal and cords. A bow and arrow?
Somewhere inside Steven, an ancient voice explained: A crossbow. Semiautomatic. It fires projectiles called bolts.
Before the Zodiacs could react, the rider notched three bolts and fired them in quick succession. The first shot struck Dog in the heart; he howled and collapsed. The second and third shots took down Snake and Ram.
For the rest of his life, Steven would remember the noises they made as they died.
Rat’s touch brought him out of his shock. The tall man moved up to whisper in his ear, eyeing the riders fearfully.
“We’re the last two left,” Rat said.
Steven looked up at the warrior. Their gazes met, and Steven shivered at the raw cruelty in his enemy’s eyes. The man spat on the ground and hissed: “By the Emperor’s command: no more Zodiacs. No more.”
The other riders fanned out, moving to surround the two survivors. Rat looked at Steven with fear in his eyes—and something else, too. Something Steven couldn’t quite read.
“What do we do?” Rat asked.
“Run for it,” Steven said.
He broke and ran, the Tiger rising above his head. He zigzagged around the three riders, pausing only to leap over Ram’s body. Rat grabbed on to his hand and followed.
The village was three kilometers away, maybe four. But Steven knew they wouldn’t make it. The riders were already on their heels, laughing as they gained on the two running figures.
I could lose them on foot, Steven thought. The Tiger is fast. But I can’t leave Rat alone. They’ll slaughter him!
Then he realized: That’s what happened, centuries ago. He—the other Tiger—he couldn’t leave his teammate to die.
Clouds swept in to cover the sun. The world seemed locked in twilight, darkening fast. Even the fires raging across the village seemed dimmer than before.
“My Tiger,” Rat gasped, puffing and falling behind. “It’s over.”
Steven skidded to a stop and turned to face the approaching riders. They were hanging back, taking their time. They knew there was no escape.
To Steven’s surprise, Rat stumbled into his arms. There were tears in the tall man’s eyes.
“If this is the end,” Rat said, “then know that I have always loved you.”
Steven heard the snap of the crossbow. Rat arched, gasped, and spasmed in his arms. The point of the bolt appeared, thrusting out of Rat’s chest.
Steven closed his eyes in horror, waiting for the end—for the bolt that would take his own life. The Tiger roared, a howl of pain that seemed to shatter the world.
When he opened his eyes, that world was gone. No plain, no horses, no warriors calling for his death. No dead and dying teammates. Just utter blackness, thick and warm, stretching all around.
Steven paused, struggling for breath. He shook his head, trying to process what he’d just seen. The death of the Zodiacs. The end of a cycle. The fate that awaits my team, too?
Plus, I guess that Tiger was a girl. Or maybe he was gay?
It was all very confusing.
Darkness surrounded him like a shroud. I’m lost, he thought. All alone in this limbo. After the ordeal he’d just been through, it was oddly comforting.
Then a wheel appeared. It glowed in the air, many times Steven’s size, pure white against the blackness. He took a step toward it.
He’d seen the wheel before. It was a graphic depiction of the Chinese Zodiac, with stylized images of the twelve animal signs arrayed along its rim. Long before Steven’s time as the Tiger, his grandfather had taught the boy about his heritage.
Or tried to, anyway. I didn’t listen to him much when he was alive. For the second time that day, Steven grimaced at a memory. He loved his grandfather; he wished he could express that to the old man one more time.
As he stared at the wheel, he noticed something odd. The animals along the rim looked strangely mechanical. The Rooster’s legs were stiffly jointed; the Dog had a hinged metal jaw. The Tiger’s tail looked like a computer cable, and its fangs sparked like open circuits.
Carlos, he remembered. We’re inside his mind. And this is how he sees the Zodiac powers. To me, to the rest of us, they’re almost mystical—creatures from ancient mythology. But Carlos is a scientist. He sees them as patterns of energy or marvels of engineering. As natural, as rational, as gravity or electricity.
He reached out and spun the wheel a quarter of the way around. The Dragon locked into place in the top position: a fierce robotic construct with sharp metal talons and electric breath.
“Carlos?” he called.
The wheel began to turn again. Animals flashed before his eyes, each swooping to the top of the arc and then spinning down again. Snake, Horse, Ram. Monkey, Rooster, Dog. Pig, Rat, Ox, Tiger, Rabbit.
Faster and faster they whirled. As the images began to blur together, a voice filled the void. It was loud and insistent, as if desperate to communicate something.
The Dragon
The Dragon is order
“Carlos? Is that you?”
I thought I understood
Thought I knew him
Thought I knew the Dragon
“Jasmine, can you hear me?” He stared out at the blackness. “Are you in here?”
No answer.
“I think I found him,” he continued. “I found Carlos!”
So I helped him
Helped Maxwell
At the word Maxwell, the world seemed to ripple and shake.
“Carlos,” Steven said, turning back to the spinning wheel. “We’re here for you. We came to find you.”
I helped him
Because only Maxwell could do t
his
Only he could tame the Dragon
The wheel spun even faster. The signs formed a long continuous image, like all the Zodiac animals blended together: RatOxTigerRabbitDragonSnake…
Steven felt a rising panic. Again he recalled the words of the ancient Tigers: We all lived through the cycle—
But he failed
Maxwell failed
“Jasmine?” Steven looked around, frantic. “I need help. I don’t think I can do this alone!”
The wheel lurched and wobbled, threatening to spin out of control. He reached for it with both hands. The edges whirled past, cutting his fingers. He cried out and shrank back. “Jasmine!”
Then she was there, grabbing his hand. She wore civilian clothes, just as she had in the medical bay. Her grip on his hand was almost solid.
“Where have you been?” she asked.
“You don’t want to know.” He shook his head, trying to banish images of Mongol warriors on horseback, of bolts plunging through helpless Zodiacs.
Now the Dragon is free
The Dragon is unleashed
“Is that really him?” Steven looked up and around, at the void beyond the wheel. “Carlos?”
“I think so.”
“What do we do? How can we talk to him?”
“I’ve been trying. But I can’t reach him.” She tapped her temples, the spots where—out in the real world—the mind weapon was attached to her head. “Carlos invented this gadget. He’s the only one who really knows how to use it.”
Only Maxwell can leash the Dragon
But the Dragon cannot be leashed
Steven frowned. “I think he’s trying to tell us something—”
That is the error
That is the fallacy
“That’s it!” Jasmine exclaimed. “That’s what’s wrong with him—what he was trying to explain, back in Australia. Maxwell invaded his brain, convinced him that only he, Maxwell, could control the Dragon. But Maxwell failed. The Dragon took him over, instead of the other way around.”
“And Carlos is a rational person. His whole life is logic, order.” Steven nodded. “Now he’s got two completely contradictory ideas in his head—”