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So I couldn’t go the whole Advent without some Teaser of what’s to come!!

This particular scene is set in the next big Arc, which is still in the beginning stages of development.   I’m not going to explain exactly what’s going on, just let you enjoy the moment.

To fully get the impact of the scene, listen to this before, after or during.

This scene is a gift to Timothy Quinn – my partner in all of this.  Enjoy!

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He was going to kill Nico for this.

It was his crazy idea in the first place.

Take a stand for the common man!

By running through the streets of London, dressed like a madman, wearing long black coats, Guy Fawkes mask, black wig, and a Capotain hat, or something similar from the 16^th Century.

On the one side Driver Cloaks.  Hey, at least they formed to the body, which prevented the material from snagging on a chimney, fire escapes, or any other protruding items on a rooftop, but did the great Nico think about weapons – NO!

To stay anonymous everyone had to keep their weapons on the inside of their coats.

Problem, if they needed their weapons their coat had to be open, and when the coat was open, it became a cape.  Capes have a tendency to get caught on chimneys, fire escapes, or any other protruding items on a rooftop, which is a potential disaster when one is running across said rooftops being chased by the military.

And he won’t even mention the inability to see out of the damn mask.

But hey at least everyone looks the same, and can be anonymous.

John didn’t point out the 6’4″ guy standing next to the 5’4″ girl.

At least Evy was damn good at blending, despite her stature.  She’d been doing it for centuries alongside Jake, her brother.  He never knew how the two pulled it off, but they could easily be interchangeable while on a Hunt.

At the moment all of this was irrelevant, if he survived this, he was going to kill Nico.

Or let Harold do it.

Better yet, let The Machine empty his bank accounts!

***

It had been a simple patrol.  Check the abandoned areas of the warehouse district to check for citizens that were running from the Police.  It was fairly quiet, which should’ve been his first clue that the night was going to go straight to hell.

With The Machine in his ear, he located a small child who was hiding in a rat infested shithole.  He cursed at the society that allowed for this to happen.  He then bit back the anger at the government who thrived on it.  Not able to take off the mask to assure the young child, he motioned for him to come closer.

The boy reached out and laid his small hand in John’s large gloved ones.  He scooped up the boy, and headed for one of the safe houses.  He would drop the boy off with the underground, and let them get him out of the city.

Exiting the warehouse, he was blinded by headlights, even with the mask he found himself squinting as he held a hand over his eyes.

‘Three vehicles.’

‘Eighteen soldiers.’

‘Armed with military grade weapons.’

The kid pushed against his chest, jumping down before kicking him in the shin than ran towards the cops.   Once he was behind the larger burley one with a thick mustache, he yelled derogatory names that no ten-year-old should know.

He rarely resorted to hurting children, but if he saw the kid again, it was getting dunked into the Thames, after a good backhand to his smart mouth.

He lifted his arms, in the universal gesture for surrender.

‘Three.’

‘Two.’

‘One.‘

The whole area went dark, including the vehicle headlights.

John turned on his heel and was up the side of the warehouse before the explosion of bullets riddle the front of the building.  He ran full tilt for the edge, jumping onto the roof of next warehouse.

He smiled when he heard them cursing as the vehicles wouldn’t start.

They began to track him on foot.

‘Left.’

He turned, stumbled over the decaying roof, and with a silent curse launched over the large alleyway onto the next structure.

‘Third Warehouse.’ 

‘Skylight.’

He was moving on instincts, listening to the mechanical directions in his ear.  He had learned to trust it, over the past decades of saving Numbers.

The last jump was pushing the distance for any Assassin, but he closed his eyes, said a Hail Mary, and took the leap of faith.  He felt the skylight give, as he crashed through the glass onto the warehouse floor, landing with one knee bent, and hand resting of the dusty floor.

‘Two vehicles.’

‘Twenty-two soldiers.’

‘Armed with military grade weapons.’

Great they had back-up.

‘News media.’

John tapped the earpiece, hopefully it was enough to signal The Machine, that he wanted to know what was being said.  It was the only way he could communicate, the hard fast rule for any of them was not to speak.  It was how they stayed Anonymous.

And that was the key for Nico’s plan to work.

The Government News Network was broadcasting live.

‘The Armed Forces have the terrorist trapped, these hard working men have gone beyond the call of duty to keep us safe, by chasing down this criminal, putting their lives on the line.’

John rolled his eyes, snorting softly.

‘We bring to you live, the capture of this ruthless terrorist who has killed hundreds of our people, destroyed our heritage.  But we will not succumb to fear, we will fight.’

This time he snorted loudly.

Hundreds was pushing it, maybe less than ten, though he would admit there were at least a good dozen or so that would need knee replacement surgery.  And he wasn’t the one who destroyed the Tower of London.

He pulled his two weapons, each loaded with 16 bullet clips.  Thankful Harold had confiscated Croft’s automatic reload and designed a set for him, giving John an additional four clips.  It was decent ammo for a small shootout, but not one for this many enemy soldiers.  He would have to be precise in his shooting.

‘Tracking.’

Over the last decades, he had gotten used to the mechanical voice, the Machine would use when they had needed information instantly and didn’t have time to read a text, or Jarvis to translate.

John had developed a system with it.  The Machine knew how he moved, how he fought, and would set the parameters to fit his style.

‘Lights shut down in …’

‘Three.’

‘Two.’

‘One.’

As the warehouse went dark, he felt a sense of calmness surround him.  He sent assurance down the Bond to Harold, then took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and trusted The Machine to be his eyes and ears.

‘Four man team, entering warehouse.’

‘Spread at 10, 12, 1 and 3 o’clock.’

He raised his weapons, and without hesitation, began firing.

‘Move to your left, 3 spaces.’

‘1 dead, 2 wounded.’

’11 and 10 o’clock.’

He eased to his left, shifting slightly to take out the next targets.  He heard the grunts and clatter of weapons to the ground.

‘3 dead, 1 wounded.’

‘Second – Four man team entering warehouse.’

‘Burst of fire from 9 to 1 o’clock, while moving four spaces to your right.’

John felt the metal shelving on his shoulder, forcing him turn to his left until his back braced against it.  He dropped the clips and grabbed the next set.  He eased down the shelving, using it as a shield, ignoring the bullets as they pinged off the metal.

‘Step out.  Turn around. 9 and 3 o’clock.’

A calm breath, before he stepped out, turned and fired off four shots

‘6 dead. 2 wounded.’

‘Three man team, entering warehouse.’

They were trying to wear him down, while making themselves less of a target.  John was pretty sure, the government was starting to get horrified at the fact their soldiers were dying, or they were using it as a rating ploy, at this moment anything was possible.

He wondered if they were even televising anymore.

He chuckled.

Of course they were, The Machine would make sure of it.

‘Four steps forward.’

‘Burst fire directly in front of you.’

He heard bodies hitting the ground, yells coming from outside.  The unit was starting to crack around the edges.  They didn’t know how to handle the situation. They were losing control fast.

‘Drop.’

John went down, just as a hail of bullets went over his head.

‘Stand.  Shoot.  Run 6 feet to your left.’

He sighed in relief, when his back hit a concrete wall.  He couldn’t tell the layout of the warehouse, but it had a distinct smell of tobacco and alcohol.  It wasn’t a modern building, at least a hundred or more years old, likely filled with crap left behind decades ago.

He dropped the clips from his weapons, and slammed in the last set.

’12 dead. 2 Wounded.  There are two, four man teams waiting.’

John let his hearing adjust to the warehouse, listened carefully to the sounds the soldiers were making, and with a smirk he stepped out from behind the concrete wall, fired four shots.

’14 dead.’

‘Showoff.’

John chuckled, he still had some of his own skills.

‘Three man team coming into the warehouse.’

‘Two man team coming in from the back.’

‘Potential crossfire.’

With him in the middle.

John ducked down as a hail of bullets slammed into the concrete wall.  He ran along it until the the end, pulling his weapons and fired in the direction the barrage was coming from.

‘1 dead.  1 wounded.’

‘Stay down, move ten paces forward.  Fire at 8 and 5 o’clock.’

Seriously!  If he could send a death glare towards a working camera he would.  He was pretty damn flexible, but that was going to be tough shot.  Maybe on a good day, he would hit both targets, but today wasn’t a good day.

With a dark chuckle, he stood and followed the directions exactly, placing his arms at 8 and 5, and fired off the rest of his ammo.  Time felt as if it slowed down, as he felt bullets fly by him.  He slid and ducked behind a set of wooden pillars, they were taller than him, and from the smell and feel they were at one point in time rail ties.  He dumped the empty clips, putting the guns back into the holster.

’17 Dead.’

‘Two steps to your left.  Use barrier to cover approach.  Enemy is 6ft, side exposed.’

He slid down the dagger from the holster inside his forearm.  What he wouldn’t have given to have his hidden blade, but again that was too noticeable.  He slumped down lowering his face to make sure the white of the mask wasn’t seen in the pitch blackness.  He could hear the soldier’s heartbeat it was beating fast and hard.  Using his Assassin instincts he reached out with his left hand to cover his mouth as his right slammed the dagger below the Kevlar, straight into the soldier’s liver.  He pulled him behind the pillars and dumped the body, taking any and all of his weapons.

‘Warning! On your left.’

Without hesitation he threw the dagger at an upwards angle, followed by four bullets from the confiscated pistol.

’19 Dead.’

‘Weapons out of ammo.’

Wait. What?  John pulled the clip of the automatic weapon and felt along the top, the chamber was empty.  He tossed it, and grabbed the secondary handgun, only to find the same.

They wasted their ammo, trying to hit him instead of aiming for him.  Stupid move that left them defenseless, and now he was totally unarmed, and there were at least three more.  He needed back up, and he wasn’t sure if any was coming.

‘Three man team moving in.’

He was a sitting duck where he was located.  They could easily move around each side of the barrier and catch him in a deadly crossfire.

‘Option: Jedi.’

John froze for a split second in shock, but then he really shouldn’t have been surprised, The Machine had put a name to it.  It had watched him for decades, and knew what John was capable of and wait he would do to protect Harold.

Though it was wrong on one aspect.

Not a Jedi.

He stepped away from the pilings, turned around and faced the oncoming threat.  He took a deep breath, centered himself.  He felt the anger rise with in him, at the inability to stop the government from destroying the country.  From the horrors of what he had seen done to the citizens.  From the deaths he couldn’t stop.

And pushed out.

The pile of wood exploded outward, taking out one of the soldiers.  The other two dove away from the falling timber, pulling up their weapons.

‘Incoming.’

He lifted his hands palms out, feeling the pressure against his body as the sheer power of the bullets slammed against the barrier.  He closed his fists and threw his hands down, sending them harmless to the ground.

He lifted his left, hand gripping tightly.  He heard the soldier drop his weapon, gasping for air, without thought he tossed him towards his comrade slamming both of them into the wall.

‘All clear.’

‘Admin needs you.’

John felt the power flow threw him, he knew if anyone was to see him now, his eyes would be glowing yellow, with a hint of silver.  His hands flexed at his side, as he tried to get it back under control.  The Machine helped him navigate out of the building, and as he stepped outside, he was faced with a single reporter and cameraman.  Both looked terrified and in awe at the same time.

“Who are you?”  She yelled out to him.

He held out his hand and with two fingers, their symbol.

V

And with a sadistic smirk, that no one could see, he flung both arms out, clenched his fists then pulled downwards.  The warehouse groaned then collapsed, nothing was left but a pile of rubble.

The reporter startled, jumping backwards.

John ran across the open area, and then shimmied up the opposite warehouse, he took the offered hand and let his fellow vigilantes pull him up.  He didn’t need to see his face, to know it was Nico, who held his hand tightly.  With a quick nod, he pushed past them and headed for their safe house.

He needed to get to Harold.

***

In a galaxy far far away …

Obi-Wan Kenobi argued with the Council, to allow him to travel to Earth.  Master Nico was in danger, and he was needed there, not standing arguing the finer points of Jedi involvement in ‘undeveloped’ worlds.

Yoda had tuned out most of the argument, knowing full well that Kenobi, now a Jedi Master himself, would follow his heart and go to Nico.  And if he didn’t, his chosen lover, Master Qui-Gon Jinn, the more rebellious of the two, would drag Obi-Wan to Earth just to annoy the Council, despite his own personal feelings towards Nico.

The sudden shock wave through the Force hit him straight on.  His small body rocked backwards in his seat, causing Master Windu to focus on the older Jedi.  His ears folded back, as he shifted through his own memories, trying to place the familiarity of what he had just felt.

His eyes snapped open.

That was a presence he hadn’t felt in years gone.

“Finished discussion it is.  Master Kenobi and Jinn take me to Earth they shall.”  He eased off his seat and made for the door.  “Leave now we must.”

The green troll ignored the incredulous stares from the council, the suspicious ones from the two Jedi Masters, and the all-knowing smirk from Windu.

Padawan he had to find.