Prologue

The Man Behind the Curtain

Spending the night with Nàme was surprisingly more fun than I thought it would be. Errr... That sounds wrong... Anyway, we stayed at Raiyne's Neo Cafe until late into the night, or was it morning? Evil hag is actually a great dancer and tried, failed, but tried to teach me how to shake my tush on the dance floor.

She surprises me every day. From her usually formal dress, reclusive attitude, and nerdy behavior I would never have expected this from her. I expected the hassle she gave me about being impossible to teach and the desire to keep away from the other clubers, but... What I find the strangest thing of all was how cute she was in those moments when she got mad and flustered. Clearly I need to get some sleep and dump this clutter in my mind.

We were finally on our way back to her truck after the long night. My head is still throbbing from the overwhelming techno.

“Left over right. Left over right. How hard is it to understand?” she complains.

“I did!”

“Not your military left, your actual left!”

“Come on! Give me a little credit, I was getting better.”

“After you broke my foot a dozen times.”

“Yeah...”

“Oh, almost forgot the reason I came looking for you anyway!” She digs into her pants pockets and pulls out a small datacard. “Catch.”

She tosses it over and I fumble to keep it in my hands.

“What's on it?”

“If you want to keep investigating, against that drunkard's orders, this might help you out.” She winks and gives me the classic smirk.“Look over it tonight and get back to me. I want to see if you come to the same conclusions I did.”

I stop in my tracks, tightly griping the card. “What's wrong now?” she asks with a sigh.

“Thank you.”

“Consider it a gift from a genius to an idiot.”

“No, Nàme. Not just for the card...” My voice is cracking and I'm having a hard time looking for the right words. Words to express the confusion in my heart. “Just-”

“Don't say anything,” she replies. “I understand.”

There is an awkward silence as we turn to look at the other. Her blonde hair is caught by the light breeze and blows across her face. Words. My vocabulary is failing me. No words can describe the amusement drawn across her lips and happiness that glitters in her sapphire eyes. My heart wants me to accept that I might have feelings for this young vixen. That we might someday be more than colleagues.

“Are you Anton Lee Rogers?” a gruff voice directly behind me asks.

“Yeah, that's me,” I reply. I turn around and find myself looking down the barrel of a custom .357.

The next couple of seconds are a blur. I find myself being thrown to the ground by Nàme. Loud cracks of gunfire erupt from the black suit in front of me. Suddenly, more gunfire erupts from the parking lot. Another suit is charging out of a nondescript black van.

Blood splatters on my stunned face. Am I hurt? Am I dead? Where is she? A female black-winged Frikon, angel-like humanoid, charges out of the club, revolver blazing. More suits. Blood. Chaos. I should be going for my gun. I should do something to save myself. Yet my body responds to no command.

A bullet ricochets off the cement, a millimeter from my face. Someone is still trying to kill me. Yet I can't move. Gunfire has erupted in every direction around me. I know I hear at least one automatic weapon. Pain has driven a stake into my gut. Have I been shot?

Is this the end? Yeah, Komi, perfectly safe. Nothing to worry about with this new case.

I see a black suit holding an automatic rifle, a C-121O, leveling it towards my head. I see nothing other than that suit and that gun. So, this is what death is like. To have come so far. To die. To die. To die. In a matter of seconds, my future is gone.

I'm sorry, Syl, Yoi. I should have brought you along. Nàme... I wish I could have told you before we died. That I think I might ha-

Then everything disappears as my life is robbed from me.

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“Move. If you aren't moving in five seconds, you aren't moving ever again.”

Before I have a chance to respond, someone is violently yanking me along. I hurt. I hurt so very much and it's clear to me that whoever grabbed me doesn't care. I can't pinpoint what exactly hurts. Everything is in unending torrent of agonizing, ripping pain.

“Get in there!” a baritone bellows. With as much grace as a drunken walrus, I get tossed into some sort of room. I wish I could describe it better, but, thanks to mind-numbing pain and a burlap bag, I might as well have my eyes closed.

The door slams behind me and the world goes silent. Without fear, I ripped the bag from my head and do a head-to-toe scan of my body. My jacket is missing, my jeans are ripped to shreds and covered in my blood, and I have what appears to a quick bandage over the sharp pain in my abdomen.

“Don't fret, Commander Rogers, our medics have assured me you aren't going to die. Yet.”

“Commander Chadek?”

The old fart smirks at me and suddenly the danger in my life becomes so much more. That gray hair old fool has the Aggressive Diplomatic Resolution Agency under his command. I should have known that the ADRA and Chadek would be the only group who would attempt to take out the Katajion Directorship's Supreme Commander.

Chadek is watching me from one of two chairs in the room. “Please sit down, Commander. We have much to discuss before we move you again.”

“Again?”

The ancient midget motions to the barren room around him. “You didn't think this was DC, did you? I'll admit it reminds me of the room that I met Ex-Director Zealeuos in at Joint Central Command Center, but I regret to inform you we aren't on Earth anymore.”

I cautiously sit, despite the pain in my butt. “Then where? And better yet, why? Or how about explaining what you were doing with a traitor in the JCCC?”

“Because he wants you dead. I just want you out of the way.”

I point at the door behind me.“Is that why Chuckles out there gave me the ambassadorial treatment?”

“I never said comfortable, just out of the way.” He slowly rises from his chair, something that seems to visibly tire him. “If everything works out for us, you might just make it out of this, alive.”

“And if I fail to cooperate?”

“How so?” he asks with genuine curiosity. “We have you. Everyone, from Director Tsuku to your trusted lieutenant, Miss Nàme Wagner, believes you to be dead. Your trusted bodyguard, Agent Syl, is already setting herself up to take the blame. I've won, Rogers.” With him pacing around my chair, I feel the buzzards flying overhead. “What can you do to stop me? To stop Zealeuos?”

“Escape?”

I feel a sharp prick in my neck and my already blurry grip on reality begins to fade. Again. “Good luck and good night, Commander.”

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I wake on my back with a sudden start. Smoke billows around me, wrapping around me like a blanket and blocking my vision. I try to move, to stand up, but I can't. I can't seem to move anything. I feel weak, so very weak. My efforts to move have dampened my head with sweat. No, wait. That's not sweat. Sweat's not red and salty. I'm dying.

I try to scream out for help, but the fumes choke all attempts. All I can hear is what sounds to be fire roaring somewhere to the right of me. Maybe an electrical fire from the sparks I'm hearing not to far from my head.

The pool of blood is only getting bigger and bigger. I'm drenched in my own blood. I'm taking a bath in my own body fluids. At least I don't feel much pain anymore. Then again, I don't feel much of anything. Shock? Maybe I should elevate my legs and drink some water. Yeah, right. They never mention how hard it is to treat yourself when you are dying and have no resources.

As my mind slowly slips into that abyss for the third time in what feels like five minutes, I can't help but wonder if it will be nice and quiet on the other side. If maybe I can finally get some time alone with Nàme....