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Chapter -15- Past Regrets

February 3rd, 4pm EST Miami, Florida ...

** "Steven," Lance took the man's hand firmly,** clasped between both his palms, and shook with his old friend. "No, I didn't bring you any souvenirs from Turkey. I only stayed a single night. Thank you for picking me up at the airport."

Steven Milford brought his free hand up and placed it on Lance's shoulder. They exchanged a rather traditional custom, regardless of their American surroundings, by kissing each other on each cheek. "Don't tell me you went back to Göbekli Tepe. You know you should really curb your obsession with that place. It's akin to going back to a childhood home that was burned down. Leave it or it will eat away at everything you hold dear."

"Well ... that wasn't the reason for my trip," Lance said, releasing Steven's right hand. "But I did stop by briefly. It always fascinated me that Abel showed his followers the ways of..."

Steven cut his friend off. "...the first religious war we witnessed, Lance. It disgusts me. I do not see your fascination with it."

Lance shrugged. "Remembering our past keeps us grounded in our present, and reminds us of how to shape our future. Speaking of our memories roots us in who we are so we never forget. You told me that."

"Oh I remember it, alright. Were newly flailing from our home. We cried as it went to the bottom of the ocean. We lived in abject squalor after growing up in such luxury. And then we watched the world in chaos all around us. I remember those people being butchered because they sacrificed animals. I remember the farmers felt such emotion over their actions. I remember that they buried that place until it resembled a pot-bellied hill."

"Steven..."

Milford shook his head. "And after over 13,000 years, people still try to figuratively sweep their guilt under the proverbial rug the same way. As if they could hide their evidence from their god."

"Did I catch you in a mood or does the subject bother you more than I realized? And yes, those were sordid times but at least we didn't live in poverty." Lance eyed his friend, wondering if there was something Steven Milford wasn't telling him. "Are you all right?"

"Compared to coming from a city with electricity and plumbing, yes ... it was poverty. Poverty for the elite; we fooled ourselves into thinking that we weren't poor." Steven shook his head and released Lance's shoulder. "They were savages fighting each other over how to pray. I do not care how it is romanticized in religious texts. It was brutal and unnecessary. I put it out of my mind, but you obsess with that filthy hole; it should have stayed buried beneath the Turkish soil."

"It changed my life and made me into what I became for thousands of years. It wasn't until the turn of the 20thcentury that I realized I could live differently. Steven, it was the first time I witnessed brothers kill one another over religion."

"Yes. The textually immortalized believers of Cain. I remember. And I also remember that it was your friend Nathanial Carrington that helped you change who you were. He also saved Karla, the succubus. I remember it all."

"Do you?"

"Yes. Do you? Do you remember how we handled what we saw? How we processed such savagery? Do you remember how we fixed the world?"

Lance rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. He looked down with a thin smile of disgust. "I helped to partake in the worst crime imaginable, Steven."

Milford balked. "Writing baselines for organized religion was not a crime. You helped to save the world by helping to write the Old World Order of faith-based laws. And you'll help to save the world again before the end of the week. Let's talk about this in the car. Come with me."

They crossed a line of taxicabs to the next lane of cars, waiting in a line. Lance shook his head. "Steven, I'm sorry I brought it up. To be honest, I had no clue you bottled those memories. Perhaps you're right. Perhaps it should have stayed buried."

"Pardon me for ignoring your subtext. I merely meant to suggest I don't understand your obsession with Göbekli Tepe. Leave those memories buried with the rest of the archeological world. Let humans have fun in their historical sandboxes. I knew you'd come from Turkey and be brooding."

"I'm brooding?"

"Yes. You always stick your nose into archeological digs and watch, and reminisce." Steven offered a thin smile then motioned to the wall of taxi cabs. "Now, I went to great lengths to cheer you up, my friend."

"Oh?"

Steven stopped in his tracks and gave Lance's shoulder a pat. "I know your current penchant for shiny, sporty and ritzy things. Especially considering that silly little car you drive, I thought you might enjoy something more fun. But you have to promise you won't continue to dwell on events from thirteen thousand years ago."

Two of the taxicabs pulled from the curb.

Lance shrugged and said, "Steven, had I known you needed so badly to forget the past, I would never have..." he trailed off. Another taxicab pulled away, revealing a gap in the line of cars. Lance widened his eyes at a Ferrari converted stretch-limo. "Dear me ... that's posh. I can't tell you how surprised I am that you would break your character and do this for me."

"Speaking of breaking character, Lance, it's not like you to be maudlin." Steven smirked. "You have a penchant to bring up places and people that remind me of my age, like the last time you brought up the dig on the Red Deer Cave People. I was prepared for you to bring up something off-cuff."

"With a stretch-Ferrari?" The mathematician couldn't pull his eyes from the gorgeous vehicle. "It's certainly blessed with an artistic quality."

"Mm, I thought today I would bring something to make us both feel young and childish."

"Much appreciated."

"Mm." He gave Lance a playful push towards the sporty limo. "Oh, and you're the driver today."

"Do such vehicles even serve any real purpose in the world?" Lance mused with a grin.

"The engine is _quite _loud, thus making it a mobile SCIF. We have to discuss things that cannot go beyond the two of us."

"Like?" Patterson furrowed his brows, interest piqued.

Steven handed Lance the keys, added, "Come along," then he took Lance's bag and moved into the backseat.

Lance looked down at the small key ring. He shook his head, moving to the driver side, and then slid into the seat. Patterson pulled down a racing style seatbelt harness over his head and fastened it.

Steven did the same, securing himself in the harnessed seat.

Lance reached up and pulled the lengthy door downward, closing the side of the car then he started the engine. "So what is this about?" Goosebumps textured his arms at the sound and feel of the large, powerful sports car motor.

"Do you remember what life was like before we left the confines of our city in the First Age?"

Lance frowned and shifted the vehicle into gear. "I remember being surprised that Homo sapiens-sapiens, as we're now named, was such a small population compared to Homo sapiens archaic, and the others, like the Neanderthal and Denisovian groups. And I remember watching the end of the race wars. You think me maudlin? I can be that. I remember feeling disgust at the way our people drove any group with breeding compatibility into extinction."

Steven gazed out the window. "Ironic that the genome for the supernatural line came from them. What if they unlocked their potential before we eradicated them? They would have evolved into the modern people. Their aggression would have brought wars far deadlier than any sapiens-sapiens have caused."

"Well they certainly had the largest brains." Lance rubbed his face then put his hands on the wheel and eased off the clutch. "I remember wanting to study them."

"It was unnecessary. Our finest scholars did that. The un-evolved potential they had with those enormous brains was what saved us from sapiens-sapiens ability to create deities with their faith. Can you imagine if we had no way to combat those freaks? It all worked out. But we had no way to control humanity until people like yourself came and created faith-based laws. And now you're the only faith writer left alive. So it's up to you to help bring order again."

Lance sighed in disgust. "Thirty-five thousand years of evolving just to become technologically advanced bigots and murderers. Non-enlightened modern humans caught up to us, and it only took them ten-to-seven thousand years. Their potential is greater than our own. So we should leave it up to them to write their own laws of the land."

Steven smirked. "I know you always had a soft spot for sapiens-sapiens born outside of our home. But you're right; they evolved a global network in half the time our city flourished. But they don't regulate breeding like our ancestors did. And they spread out around the planet instead of up, into the skies."

"Don't deny that they are impressive."

Milford shook his head, staring off into the distance as the limo moved further from the airport. "They're impressive. I'm concerned for them. I keep thinking about our invention. We created them to protect us from the deities created by humans. But we have the technology to protect ourselves from deities. The supernaturals are no longer necessary."

Lance switched on a blinker and glanced in the mirror. "What is on your mind? Why bring this up?"

"Because it's time to clean up behind ourselves, Lance. Our ancestors wanted to make the world better for our descendants. That needs to be considered."

"Our ancestors drove Denisovia and Neanderthal into extinction. And we had the ego - the hubris to think it was okay. It most certainly wasn't."

Steven frowned. "Okay. Lance, please. We are friends. The last two of our kind. We are nearly extinct, ourselves."

"We deserve it. Just because our brains were designed with the emotional fortitude necessary to handle immortal, doesn't mean our kind deserves it. The technology we created to make us live forever is another example of hubris."

"Lance..."

"Steven, I know what you're suggesting." Lance slid his hands across the smooth leather-wrapped steering wheel. "You're suggesting we clean up our mess by killing off the last of the supernatural people before we die, so that they cannot ruin the world when you and I are not around to police the creation of our people. And now is our chance to do that because they're nearly gone."

"Yes, that is correct. Sadly there is only enough space in the world for the master race - homo sapiens-sapiens. If we're not around to police this world, we should clean up after ourselves. And we're the last two. It's too much. And we have to consider HSS. They have the technology to protect themselves from deities. They do not need the confusion of supernatural protectors who will abuse their powers. No one should have that power. They'll use it to control, and responsibility will be swept under the rug."

"Well you can stop acting this way. We're not going to die and neither are they. Is this what you wanted to talk to me about, Steven?"

"Not ... completely."

"Well let's talk about whatever else is on your mind. Our kind has killed off too many races. They destroyed nearly every last non-modern human back while they were learning how to smelt metal for weapons. They created biological human weapons to fight off deities created by their own dreams and faith."

"Lance..."

"No. It's disgusting to consider killing off another race, especially one created by our people at the technological height of their advancement. We deserved for our city to sink into the Atlantic. I will not slay another. I have been working to protect the survivors."

"Very well. You're right. It was merely an option."

"One I do not wish to entertain. What else is on your mind?" Lance asked.

"The seers. For as long as we've both lived, prophets have been fairly accurate," Steven began.

"Mm, yes. So long as several seers have a similar prophesy. It's like they verify one another. But their long-term accuracy has failed since the Battle of Tunguska."

"Yes. For over a hundred years, any prophecy that involves the world on a large scale has been wrong. Ever since the Esoteric Civil War."

Lance drove out onto the highway, headed north. "Steven, YiaYia is the most accurate we have. And she was very close to Nathanial. The two of them, together, managed to work together to make their prophecies come true. Are you obsessed with the inaccuracy of seers again?"

"I've been obsessed for decades. You know my belief on the matter."

Lance eased into the gas pedal picking up speed on the highway. "Yes, yes. Like the rest of the world, you've become addicted to the 'new world religion.' It's sad."

"Excuse me?" Steven leaned forward. "Do you care to explain that remark?"

"Aliens. Hidden Government. Illuminati. UFOs. They're all part of the new world religion. And, the god of all these things is 'conspiracy.' I call it a religion because people believe in it all in an attempt to explain the world around them. And they do so without any scientific evidence whatsoever. It is a belief. Just like your theory. It's a belief. You have faith in it."

"Lance..."

"Hear me out, Steven. Right now you believe something is causing the prophets to predict things inaccurately. You believe something powerful is working against reality to disprove the oracles. Am I right?"

"Perhaps I do. But if there really were such a thing as The Illuminati, Lance, it would be our kind. The two of us are the only ones left."

Lance glanced over his shoulder at Steven then back at the road. "We don't control the world."

"We did, once."

"Steven, we never controlled the world. We invented organized religion to make the world control itself. It was wrong. We were wrong."

"I disagree, my friend. I would like the chance to explain."

Lance shook his head with a sigh. "I would rather go into hiding than possess the world."

"All I'm asking is that you hear me out."

"Fine. We have a long drive to Jacksonville. So, by all means, explain."

X

X

February 3, 2024 - 4:40pm EST Middle of the Atlantic

" Where's the chop coming from?" Evan placed his hands on either side of a porthole and glanced down at the beach.

Silence.

He tilted his head and gazed astern. Waves lapped up against the aft section of the aircraft carrier. "At this angle, I can't see the gap." Evan glanced towards the water and gazed into the horizon. He sighed and said, "I don't see any ships and the sky is clear. I don't get it." Evan began pacing. "You see all those waves hitting the beach? That's not normal. We need to change the plan."

"What'cha have in mind?" Jules asked.

"Glass boat. If I have to, I'll create a glass propeller and Reno can give it a consistent flow of energy. We'll figure something out. But I have a bad feeling. We need to get back to Karla's yacht."

Reno rubbed his whiskered chin then gave a tug at the soul-patch growing beneath his lower lip. "Do you really think these guys came out here with no motorboats or life rafts? They definitely have room on this thing. We could search it."

Fox folded his arms. "Reno, Evan can shift the sand, push the back of the carrier back together, and you could use a huge bolt of lightning and weld it back together."

Jules quirked his brows. "Fox. I hope you're joking. You don't just melt the metal of a fracture and call it 'fixed.' There's a bit more involved in repairing something this size."

Fox furrowed his brows back at Jules. "So what would the United States Navy do besides welding it back together?"

Guillot chuckled. "Welding, of course, but they'd also use duct tape and paint. It's a delicate combination of the three that holds a ship together. Unless you got a roll of ducky tape in yer' pocket like MacGyver ... oh! That's right, you didn't watch TV - sorry, forgot about that."

Fox rolled his eyes. "Okay, I might not have seen any reruns but I know who MacGyver is."

Evan grinned. "Some cultural references transcend their source."

Fox shrugged and folded his arms. "So how do we get back to my sister?"

"We can't strand these men," Evan interjected. "They'll starve. There's not enough left of the island to sustain them once they run out of whatever is here on this ship."

Jules turned to the bars and gave a gentle tug on the aging metal poles. "I'd still like t' know how they got this-here thing so far up onto 'de sand without it capsizing. Can Karla move objects this big?"

"I don't think so," Reno said. "Maybe a sports coupe but nothing bigger than that."

Fox tapped his finger against his lower lip then rubbed his face with his palms. "She helped us birth the submarine on the island. Remember, Evan? You opened up the sand, she pushed it, with the water, into the space we made. Okay, birth wasn't the right word." He bit his lower lip.

Reno nodded in understanding. "She'll be fine. She's a tough girl. So, not an aircraft carrier? Even if Evan did his sand trick and we used the water?"

Jules approached the porthole and peered out at the beach and the ocean. "She's not here, mes amis. Let's focus on the here and nod. Anyone have abilities like her? Look, all we'd do is sink this thing. That doesn't help either."

Evan shrugged. "Johann was pals with the Justiciar. From what I understand, Karla was one of a handful of people with telekinesis. It's not rare, but her ability was supposed to be known for her accuracy. And she was one of a small group of people to be able to teleport things. And, she was unique in the fact that she was the only one with both of those abilities."

Reno shrugged. "I overheard that she was a curiosity for a different reason."

Evan tilted his head. "Like what?"

"I overheard that a succubus isn't immortal, just ageless. But she's way older than her kind. She's also the only person known to telegraph their abilities. Nobody else does the pink glow thing when they use their power, but you've all seen her hands and arms."

Fox cut in. "I over heard things, too. Apparently it came to light that the bad guys want to study an entirely different ability that Karla possesses."

"Oh?" Evan turned to Parker. "She has another ability?"

The thief nodded. "Topaz says that those immortal guys consider her important because Karla somehow has the ability of curing diseases within a sexual partner. And I think she has some sort of temporal thing, too."

"Damn Fox, seriously?" Reno cleared his throat. "I mean about the temporal thing. That's time control, right?"

"Temporal is time? I thought it was some sort of perception ability."

"I grew up on comic books, too, Fox. Temporal control is time."

Evan nodded, "Reno's right. Temporal is time. Temporal mechanics deals with sequential, chronological events and stuff like that."

Fox rubbed his face. "You guys and your smart words."

Reno laughed. "Fox, you're smarter than you give yourself credit for. I love action and sci-fi shows. So what is it that Karla can do?"

"I don't know how it works, exactly," Parker replied. "Topaz says she can perceive things that happen faster than the human eye can register. Perhaps that's why she's always so hyper. In her world, everything is slow and calm, including herself. I don't know."

"I don't think it works exactly like that," Reno said with a grin.

"Too bad she's not telepathic," Evan said. "We could simply think about needing help."

Another wave hit the ship, causing it to list slightly.

Jules shook his head and glanced back out the porthole again. "Enough with the scuttlebutt, gents. We have to talk about options. We can gossip about Karla later. Or better yet, you boys can just ask her this stuff in person if we get out of here."

"Okay, no more playing around." Fox reached up into his hair, pulled out a piece of metal and eased it into the lock. "We've got to explore the carrier and figure out our options."

The tumbler slid out of place and the cell opened.

"Do you seriously keep bobby pins in your hair?" asked Reno.

"No, man, I keep lockpick tools clipped in my hair. Bobby pins suck for this sort of stuff - this isn't Hollywood." He ran his fingers back up through his short brown hair and the lockpicks disappeared back into their hiding place. "Dad made them years ago back when slick hairstyles were in. It's become a staple of the family, now." He pushed the gate wide open and gestured. "Let's get going."

Evan, Jules and Reno stepped out into the hallway in silence. Fox closed the cell then moved to take point.

Parker approached a door leading out to the main corridor. He held a finger up and everyone stopped. Parker went back and grabbed a plate of food. He scooped up a plastic packet of butter and went to the door then used the butter on the hinges.

Fox opened the door in silence, coming up behind the guard. The young thief slipped his arms around the man from behind. Making it seem effortless, Fox brought the man to the deck.

With help from the others, Parker dragged the guard into the detention area and handed the assault rifle to Jules. "There, now you have a super power, too. Is everyone ready?"

"What'd you do to that guy?" asked Evan.

Parker smiled. "Pressure points to keep him from struggling and fingers against the right part of his neck cuts blood flow to the brain. I made him faint. The more they struggle, the faster they go down." He checked the man's clothes for anything else that would be helpful.

"Anything good?" asked Reno.

"Nothing. Just the cuffs we wore, earlier. Okay, let's get going." Fox checked the man's chest for dog tags but didn't find any. The thief stood up and took point again, leading the group out into the hall.

A man came around the corner with a hurried pace. Fox reacted before anyone else saw the soldier. He sprinted forward, ran up the bulkhead with carefully placed footfalls, put his left foot on the ceiling and brought his right foot down across the man's face. Parker wrapped his left leg around the gunner's neck.

Fox threw his hands outwards to catch the ground in silence and tightened his left leg around the man's throat. A moment later, the guard became calm.

Fox rolled off, slid his hands beneath the man's arms and dragged him back towards the detention area. "Let's get him in with his buddy. Seems neither of these guys have radios on them like the dudes from the beach - that's a little weird. Jules, grab his handgun - right hip."

"Oui, I've got it." Guillot took the weapon, checked the clip, the chamber, then set the safety and pocketed it. "Most impressive, mon ami." The aviator took the man's legs and helped Fox with the unconscious body. "A'ite. This rust bucket's full'a twists and turns. But our big problem, now, is that it's shifting."

"From the waves that just started?" asked Evan.

"Oui. I'm thinking we must be sittin' all precarious-like in the sand.." As if to punctuate his statement, the ship shifted again from another large wave. A loud metallic groan was the broken carrier's reply. "Ta gueule, y'old salope!"

Fox's brows rose. "I thought bitch was pute?"

Jules grinned and pointed to one of the unconscious men on the floor and said, "Fils de pute." Then he lifted his hand and motioned to the ship. "Salope." He bowed towards Evan, both arms fully extended. "My apologies, mon ami." He turned back to Fox and asked, "Y'speak my bastardized French?"

"Let's uh ... let's just say I've been to the Louvre more than once." Fox offered a cheesy smile. The ship shifted in a matter that seemed rather violent. Everyone braced against the bulkheads. "Well. That was sobering. I thought we were going to flip over for a second, there."

"We'd fall onto our side before we capsize the way you thinkin, Fox. C'mon, gents. Let's get up on outta here, find the gals then find Falcon. We all know that weirdo's involved in all'a this. That cocky abruti needs ta brûle en enfer. I'm tired of this drama."

The group made their way out into the corridor and headed back the way they were led during their capture, earlier.

Reno leaned close to Fox and asked, "What'd he say about Falcon?"

Parker grinned. "He said, 'that moron needs to burn in hell.' I'm all for it."

Evan whispered to Reno, "When Jules gets excited or tired, he seems to forget English."

"I noticed," Nevada replied softly. He cleared his throat and said, "Jules, Evan says you can cuss in English from here on out."

"Hey, I..." Evan paused, having everyone's eyes on him. He shrugged and chuckled. "I guess what I mean is, I'm just curious because I don't know what you're saying half the time."

Fox grinned. "If he says 'sacré blue,' that means sacred blood. It's kind of like swearing to God. If he says..."

Jules nudged Fox in a playful manner then turned to Evan. "Why would'ja wanna hear a foul mouthed sailor like me? Here's one fer you to learn in French, kiddo," Jules said with a grin. "Don't forget it, now: Zut." He gave Evan a pat on the shoulder then continued up the hall, taking point. He shouldered his assault rifle and withdrew the pistol, keeping it pointed downwards as the group proceeded.

Evan moved adjacent to Fox and whispered, "What's it mean?"

Parker offered a grin. "It's okay, you can say it."

"Okay," Evan murmured in hushed tones, "So what's 'zut' mean?"

Fox's grin broadened into a smile of amusement. "Something akin to 'dang' or 'darn.' Let's keep it down and keep moving."

The large carrier shifted again with a metallic grunt.

Evan bit his lower lip. "Zut."

X

X

Meanwhile...

** Eric reached out to tuck a lock of blond behind Karla's ear.**

"I'm going to be sick," Karla muttered in disgust. "C'mon, I'm pregnant and all but ... what kind of storm out there can rock a ship like this?"

Eric glanced out the porthole and frowned. "Karla, the sky is completely clear."

"What do the waves look like?"

"At this angle, I can't really see the water. Although I have to say, I'm glad you're not as upset as you were, earlier. I wish you'd tell us why you were upset."

"Eric ... maybe one day I will. Right now, not so much. I just need to put that in the past right now. I'm not even sure if it really happened. Looking back on it, it feels like I had a nightmare instead of a daydream. Did I say anything while I was having my headache thing?"

"Just a date, hon. December 19th, 1997."

She took a long, deep breath then sighed. "Yeah. Anything else?"

"Sire's name. And then you cried yourself to sleep. I think you needed that nap to reset your emotions."

"Hmm. Alright, I need to go for a walk so I can clear my head. Being in this cell with all of you is making me feel a little claustrophobic right now. Something about my daydream made me feel ill at the thought of being in a tight space with a bunch of people while there's pandemonium going on outside that window."

Without warning, a wave slammed into the side of the porthole causing everyone to back away from the small round glass. Everyone put their hands out to help one another from stumbling.

"That was most unexpected," Eric muttered. "What about Dramamine? It should be safe for pregnancy."

"I already told you, the only thing I'm taking while I'm pregnant is a vitamin. That's it and that's all, sweatpea."

"Which vitamin are we talking about here, Karla?"

"The kind that doctors suggest for babies. The jury is still out on that synthetic one, and I'd appreciate it if we kept these kinds of talks private."

"You're absolutely right. My apology. I don't think right when the conversation involves your health."

She offered him a soft smile then kissed the corner of his mouth. "I'm about to go up on deck and find out what the hell is going on in a minute. I'm starting to get curious about what could be rocking the boat like this. And they better not let anything happen to my yacht or I'll be pissed."

"It's our only way home, not counting the Coast Guard," said Topaz from the adjacent cell. "This is insulting. I could probably pick the lock faster than you could teleport out of here."

"Yeah," Karla chuckled. "Good luck with that. Be right back, gang." And, to prove her point, she disappeared.

Eric glanced over at Topaz who, as if to prove her own point, used her toe to nudge her cell gate open, having already picked the lock earlier. It swayed ajar. Parker offered a sly smile. "She's cute when she's keyed up."

Loupe sighed. "Yeah. Real cute."

Meanwhile...

Karla appeared above the ship then materialized down on the deck and stretched. People rushed about to secure various equipment. She watched the busy crew with amusement.

The succubus made her way to the front of the ship then, in the blink of an eye, she made her way to the back and peered over the aft lip.

"You! How'd you get free?!"

Karla turned about and tilted her head. She smiled, face to face with an officer she'd seen earlier in the day.

"Hands behind your..."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, don't posture. We both know if I can escape, I'll just do it again. Did you know you're being boarded?"

"What?" He blinked then leaned over the rear lip of the ship. "What?!" He pulled his gun and pointed it at Karla then pulled out a satellite phone and thumbed a number. A moment later he said, "Who's on the bridge right now...? Well tell them we've got unknown hostiles coming up the aft section. Hard astern, now and get a team down here!" He shut the phone's lower hinge panel then turned back to Karla. An alarm began blaring over the PA. "These your buddies to rescue you?"

"Tsh. As if." Karla leaned over the side again, watching the propeller change direction. The water spit up in protest, churning hard. Karla narrowed her eyes. "God dammit. Sire. Backing into them won't help."

"Excuse me?"

She saw a brief flit of a past memory - Sire standing on the side of the river in Indonesia, with a satisfied smile on his face. Karla clenched her hands into fists, overcome with disgust. "That son of a bitch is here."

"What? Shut up and get on the deck, now."

"You have bigger problems. Sire is a terrorist. He goes beyond anything you've ever seen. That guy can't be shot at. You're safer throwing the gun overboard so he can't use it against you. Shit. Sire." She ran her hands through her hair, pushing a lock out of her face and began pacing. "Shit. Sire St. Leonard is here, right now, coming up over the side. That guy needs to die. You don't even know."

"What're you talking about lady? Who is Sire?"

Karla grimaced from a brief recollection of her past. "December 19th, 1997. That bastard used me ... used me to force down SilkAir 185 because one of the passengers - I don't know which - was the Asian Justiciar."

"What the hell are you talking about? I said get on the ground."

Karla pointed astern, her eyes glistening in the light. "There were one hundred four people aboard. Political cover up. Allegations of a pilot murder-suicide. Broken hearts and broken families and dead children. That man is a menace; he's beyond my ability to fight and he's coming up over the gunwale right now." Karla bit her lip. "I've never told anyone that. It bothers me. I've repressed it for two and a half decades. Goddammit, I can't let him do that to me again. I've got to go." She vanished without another word.

A man came up over the edge with two escorts. He gestured to the officer with the handgun, brought his right hand up to his head like a marionette, and cocked his thumb. The officer put his weapon against his own head and cocked the hammer on his Sig Saur.

Sire smirked and brought his thumb down firmly the way a child would 'shoot' a finger weapon. The officer followed the wordless instruction. The gun fired, but the officer was, quite suddenly, nowhere to be found.

The discharged handgun dropped and clattered on the deck. Sire narrowed his gaze and looked around then clenched his jaw. "He's disappeared. She must be here. Somewhere. Find her! I want the succubus brought to me immediately. She'll prove a valuable tool, so don't engage her. I want her rendered unconscious. Subdue her with a flashbang; cover her eyes and ears. Move!"