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Book Ten

Washington, D.C.
The White House:  The East Room

         “Gentlemen, this is where we stand.”  A young man in a military uniform said.  He stood in front of a blackboard that had been hastily set up near the back of the East Room.  In the middle of the room was a large table, where many men – in and out of uniform – where sitting.  Present at the table were Secretary Skinner and Attorney General Erickson; they sat near the head of the table.  Around the sides of the room, several folding tables had been lined up around the perimeter.  Various different things sat atop them – from communications equipment to maps of New York City.
         “So far, things have been going according to schedule,” the man in the uniform said.  “But there are some potential problems.  As you can see, Zones 19, 25, 37, and 42 are quite large.  We anticipate that it may take longer than predicted to fully clear those zones.  Additionally, we are encountering problems with people who don’t want to leave at all, or are otherwise being troublesome.  Right now, we’re still on time, but if the current trends continue, we’re sure to fall behind before the deadline hits.”
         “What about additional support?”  A solider at the table asked.  “Aren’t we getting more transports and manpower from overseas?”
         “Yes; we did request help from all available resources, and we are expecting to get a few more ships and planes from across the ocean.  We have factored these contributions into our predictions, and even with them we’re still coming up a bit short.  We need to find a way to keep from slipping, or else we’re not going to make the deadline.”
         “And what if we don’t have everyone out of the city by the deadline?”  Another solider asked.
         The soldier at the chalkboard scratched his head.  “Honestly, I don’t know.  I’m told that, supposedly, whomever we don’t get out of the city will be killed.  I don’t know how realistic that is, but we have been given our orders and we have to try our best to follow them.”
         “Pfft.”  Skinner muttered under his breath.  “This is all a goddamned joke.”
         “Is there something you’d like to share, Secretary Skinner?”  The soldier at the front asked.
         Skinner looked up casually.  “Nothing much.  Just that I think this is all utterly ridiculous.”
         “Gah…” Erickson started, “Skinner, can you save your contempt until after the meeting?  This isn’t helping.”
         “I don’t care, I think this is all one big load of crap.”  Skinner said loudly.  “Some clowns come barging in here talking about some wild science-fiction nonsense, then this guy in a tin can and cape shows up and tells us to evacuate New York, and here we are bending to his demands.  I’ve never seen anything like this in my life!”
         “Look Kurt, I know how you feel.  I don’t understand all of this either.  Right now, we can only deal with what we have now, which is to get everyone out of the city safely.  Even if that Azrael-whatever his name is hadn’t asked for it, we probably should be doing it anyway.”
         “But why the hell are we bending over for this guy?”
         “There are six dead soldiers right now who’ll tell you that there’s more to this than we understand.  Don’t you remember?  Didn’t you see what happened?  Do you not remember how those bullets stopped right in front of your face?”
         “Of course I remember!”  Skinner snapped.  “Those three bullets I fired killed three of those soldiers!”  An awkward silence quickly filled the room.  Skinner sighed heavily.  “Look, I don’t understand what happened back there either.  But I do know this – the United States is the most powerful nation on Earth.  And we’re cow towing to one guy.  One guy!  I’m sick of hearing everyone talk about this bastard as if he controls us.  This Azrael…he’s a cowardly terrorist, nothing more.  America does not deal with terrorists.  We bring them to justice.  We’re going deal with him quickly and harshly, and by the time we’re finished he’ll be sorry he ever set foot on American soil.  I wish he were here right now so that I could tell that to his face.”
         “Careful what you wish for.”  A familiar voice said from behind the chalkboard.
         Everyone froze where they were, and looked at the small area of space near the front of the room where the voice came from.  Abruptly, Azrael decloaked.  He was standing against the table at the front of the room.
         “Jesus Christ!” Erickson exclaimed, as he jumped out of his seat.  “It’s Azrael!  Get security here now!”  He started for his gun, before remembering what had happened to the last soldiers to pull a gun on Azrael.
         Azrael looked directly at Erickson before averting his eyes to the door at the back of the room.  The double doors quickly swung shut, colliding into the frame with a loud thud.
         Outside of the East Room, a soldier who was on the verge of entering barely stopped himself as the doors shut in front of him.  Just before, he could remember hearing the voice, and Attorney General Erickson exclaim the name “Azrael.”
         “Damn, wasn’t that…that thing that killed those soldiers?  Is it back?”  The soldier thought to himself.  His heart was racing…but if that thing really had returned, he had to let everyone know what was going on.  He turned around quickly and sprinted down the hall.
         Meanwhile, Azrael slowly walked away from the front of the room, closer to where Skinner was sitting.
         “My apologies gentlemen.”  Azrael said.  “I have been observing your little meeting.  I didn’t mean to intrude…I was just curious as to how the evacuation was progressing.  After the good Secretary’s little…speech, I’m afraid I couldn’t restrain myself.”
         The eyes of every man in the room nervously wandered over to Skinner.  Skinner’s eyes had widened – he breathed heavily in his seat.
         “But anyway, I believe the Secretary here had something he wanted to say to me.”  Azrael continued.  “Well, what is it?”
         Skinner swallowed a huge chunk of air.  He could feel all eyes in the room on him.  Remembering his position on Azrael, he inhaled deeply, and turned around to face the cyborg.
         “Yeah, there was something I wanted to say to you.”  He said.  “I think you are nothing but a scumbag terrorist.  And we’ll deal with you same as we’ve dealt with all the other pathetic bastards.  You can’t bully around the United States of America.  You’re going to find that out the hard way.”
         Azrael looked at him blankly, his eyes slightly widened.  “Hmm.  That’s very interesting.”  He turned around, and paced a bit.  “Obviously, even after the last time we met, you are not taking me seriously.  I don’t really care about you individually, but I’m willing to bet that there are others who feel the same way you do.  Either way, I’m probably not going to find the information I’m looking for here.  Not anymore, anyway.”
         Azrael strolled over to the blackboard, and studied it for a moment.  “Very well then, I suppose I’ll just have to ask someone else.  You know…I already know how the next events will transpire.  But…for the record…I would like to say that what’s about to happen could have been easily averted.  I have absolutely no intention of attacking anyone.  I will only defend myself.  Please keep that in mind as you ponder today’s events.”  As quickly and abruptly as he had appeared, Azrael teleported away.
         “What in the hell was that all about?”  Erickson asked.
         “Damn fool, next time he comes in here like this I swear…”  Skinner was still indignant.

         Outside of the doors to the East Room, Orchid, Jago, Thunder, President Harrison, and three soldiers – one of whom being the one that had the doors slammed shut in front of him, stood.  Jago and Thunder pulled on the doors as hard as they could, but it would not move.
         “It’s no good.”  Thunder said.  “It must be locked.”
         President Harrison reached into her pocked and pulled out a key chain.  She tried to unlock the door, but found that it wasn’t locked to begin with.
         “No, it’s not locked.”  Harrison said.  “Try it again.”
         Thunder and Jago tried again, but once more, the door did not move.
         “It’s like the door is stuck or something.”  Jago said.  “I don’t think we’re going to be able to open it.”  He tapped it lightly with his fist, in what appeared to be a futile gesture.  However, the door opened slightly at this.  Jago turned around and looked at the others – thoroughly confused, before returning to the door.  He paused for a moment, collecting himself, then pushed the door open and looked inside.  He could see Skinner and Erickson, as well as a number of other soldiers, but no Azrael.
         “What’s going on in here?”  Orchid pushed her way through, inside the room.
         “That tin can thinks he can just come and go as he pleases.”  Skinner responded.
         Erickson sighed.  “Azrael appeared,” he explained.  “He said he had been observing us, wanting to see how the evacuation was progressing.  Skinner lost his temper and mouthed off to him, then he said something about having to ask someone else.  And then he left – disappeared in a flash of blue light.”
         Jago and Thunder exchanged nervous glances.
         “So then, what’s happening now?”  The President asked.
         Orchid crossed her arms.  “This incident isn’t over.  Not yet.  But for now, all we can do is wait and see where Azrael shows up.”

Downtown New York

         “Blasted thing.”  Lt. Samuel Preston grumbled underneath his breath.  He held a standard issue rifle, which he looked at with disdain.
         “Still not working?”  A soldier to his left asked.
         “No, this thing hasn’t been working all morning.”  Samuel sighed, letting his arms go limp.  “I don’t know what to do anymore.”
         “Well, we’ve already evacuated this zone, and there aren’t any charlie around, so it’s not like you need it now.”
         “I know.  I just hate it when things don’t work.”
         Samuel, along with a number of other soldiers from his unit, was standing under a large canopy that had been set up along the city street.  There was a large folding table with chairs set up in the center, as well as smaller tables around the perimeter of the canopy.  Various maps and drawings had been set up on the tables, and pieces of equipment were lying about.  In the center of the street, there were a number of large carrier trucks, along with two tanks.  In front of the tanks, Captain Bartlett stood.  He was talking into a radio, seemingly giving orders.
         “So, we’ve evac’ed all the people in this zone,” a solider who was standing near the front of the canopy said, “when do we get to pull out?”
         “I think that’s what the Captain is talking about on the radio now.”  Another soldier, who stood next to him near the front, responded.  “I hear ya though, I sure do want to get the hell out of here.  I’ve got a really bad feeling about this one…”  His voice trailed off, as he caught sight of something distant, far off down the road.  A look of mild concern spread across his face.  “Say Bernie, do you remember that brunette that briefed us back at the White House?”
         “Yeah…man, she was hot.”
         “Yeah, I know…but do you remember what she was saying about our enemy?”
         “I dunno…something about robots or something like that.”
         “Yeah…do you remember what she said about the main one?”
         “The main one?  I don’t know…something about a ponytail, and a red cape.  That’s all I remember.”
         “Red cape huh?”  The soldier’s expression completely soured.  “Well then, that’s probably him.”
         Bernie’s eyes widened.  He looked confused for a moment; then, he looked up at the other soldier, and followed his line of sight down the street.  Sure enough, there stood a figure – not clearly visible from this distance, but with certain defined features.  Including a ponytail and a red cape.
         “Holy Jesus!”  Bernie exclaimed.  “Captain!  Captain!  We have a positive ID on the enemy!”  He pointed down the street.
         Captain Bartlett looked up.  Sure enough, there was a figure standing a distance down the street.  His features were difficult to make out...but he was draped in some sort of red cloak.  As Captain Bartlett remembered, that red cloak was a distinguishing feature of their primary enemy.  He was not completely sure of what he was looking at, but either way, it was out of the ordinary and had to be reported.
 

         In the East Room back at The White House, Skinner and Orchid were the only ones standing.  Jago, Thunder, President Harrison, as well as the other soldiers in the room had taken a seat at the table.  However, Skinner paced back and forth in agitation, while Orchid stood, her arms crossed as she stared blankly ahead.
         "So that's it, huh?"  Skinner said, annoyed.  "We're supposed to just sit here and wait it out?  And what are we waiting for anyway?"
         All eyes in the room darted towards Orchid.  Yet she still stood, unmoving.
         "Uh...well..." Jago cut in, breaking the silence, "we think that Azrael is going to - "
         Jago was cut short by the squawk of the radio transmitter across the room.
         "Come in...come in HQ..."  Captain Bartlett's voice strained through from the transmitter.  "This is Captain Joseph Bartlett, of the 431st unit.  We have a positive ID on the enemy."
         All eyes, save Orchid's, exchanged nervous looks.
         "What enemy?"  President Harrison said, uneasily.
         As if in answer, Captain Bartlett's voice came through on the transmitter.  "We have the unauthorized presence of a civilian, of a pronounced build, wearing a red cloak of sorts, with some sort of light brown costume over the head and hands, as well as a single ponytail.  Suspect that this civilian is the one we were lectured about...the one called Azrael."
         "By the Tiger..."  Jago whispered.  "Why?"
         President Harrison looked up at the chalkboard.  "The 431st?  That's in the middle of the city..."
         "That zone has already been evacuated."  One of the soldiers added.
         "Thank goodness."  Thunder whispered.
         Suddenly, Orchid moved.  She forcefully blew past everyone, straight over to the transmitter.  "Captain, listen carefully."  She said, very flatly.  "This is Orchid from the White House.  Under no circumstances are you to fire upon or otherwise show aggression to the enemy?  Do you understand?  Do not fire upon him."
 

         Orchid's message could be clearly heard from the radio equipment inside the tanks on the scene.  Inside one of them, the navigator, a young officer named Presley Weston, scratched his head in response to the message.
         "Do not fire?  That's odd.  Maybe I'm mistaken, but there's only one guy out there.  You see anything else, Matthews?"
         Matthews, the gunner, gripped his controls tightly.  "I don't need to see anything else.  I've got that SOB locked in my sights."
         Weston's eyes widened.  "Hey hey...you heard her...ease off man...I know how you feel, but - "
         "You don't know how I feel!"  Matthews snapped.  "One of the six guards he killed at the White House was one of my friends!  We went through basic together!"
         "Settle down son."  Captain Bartlett said through the radio.  "A hot head isn't going to accomplish anything."
         The Captain looked back down the street.  The...thing...in the red cloak was starting to slowly walk forward.  His hands emerged from the cloak in an outward gesture.
         "Greetings!"  Azrael said.  His voice carried throughout the street, but he did not seem to be yelling.  "I am Azrael, of the Fulgore Nation."
         At The White House, Azrael's voice could be heard through the transmitter.  Orchid's right upper lip slid upwards in a fierce snarl.
         Captain Bartlett turned fully towards him.  "M'name's Captain Joseph Bartlett, of the 431st.  Is there anything we can help you with?  You are aware this is a restricted area..."
         "Captain, what the hell!"  Matthews exclaimed.  "This bastard killed six soldiers, and you're being friendly with him?!"
         "Like I said, keep it cool..."  Bartlett said over the radio.
         "Ah yes, that is true."  Azrael said.  "My apologies.  I don't mean to intrude...I merely have a question to ask, that's all."
         "A question?!"  Matthews was very upset.  "He's here to kill us all!"
         "Stay cool, damn it.  That's an order."  Bartlett shot back.  He turned to Azrael again.  "Well, I don't know that I'm the fellow you want to be talking to.  I'm sure there are others who could answer your question far better than I."
         "Well, I tried that."  Azrael said, still advancing forward.  "They...they weren't too helpful.  Therefore, I'm here now."
         Matthews gripped his controls even tighter than before.  "I've got a clean shot at him."
         Weston grabbed his shoulder.  "Jesus Christ Matthews, you're going to get us killed!  Calm down!"
         "You were at the briefing, weren't you?  Don't you remember what that brunette chick said?  This thing wants to kill us.  All of us - she said he wanted to exterminate humanity!"
         "She said probably man.  Probably.  You need to settle down..."
         "No!  He killed my friend...and he won't stop there.  Don't you remember Weston...I've got a family now...Cynthia and I just got married not even two months ago...and we think she might be pregnant...she goes to the doctor next week, but man...I might be a father...and this bastard wants to kill us all.  How can I go to sleep at night knowing I've got him in my sights and I didn't do a damn thing about it!"
         Over the transmitter, everyone in the East Room could hear everything.  Orchid listened intently, her eyes narrowing.  "Captain, I repeat, do not fire upon the enemy."
         Azrael continued to advance.  "All I want to know is how the evacuation efforts are proceeding.  That is all.  A simple status update is all I desire."
         Captain Bartlett eyed Azrael carefully.  "A status update?"  He said to himself.
         "Don't listen to him Captain!"  Matthews pleaded.  "He's here to kill us all!"
         Captain Bartlett felt his heart pounding within his chest.  "We don't know that."  He whispered through his radio.
         "Then...why don't we ask him?"  Weston suggested.
         "Not a bad idea at all."  Bartlett thought to himself.  "All right, fair enough."  He said, addressing Azrael.  "But I have a question for you, if you don't mind."
         Azrael stopped, his eyes widening.  "A question for me?  Ah, I see.  Ask not that which you aren't willing to receive.  Fair enough.  What would you like to know?"
         "Damn, don't do this."  Orchid said weakly through the radio.  "No good can come from this."
         Bartlett cleared his throat.  "Well, we don't exactly know why we are evac'ing the city.  We have been told that, at one time, you were planning on killing of the entire human race, to clear the way for an Earth ruled by robots.  I just want to know from the horses' mouth...why are you here?"
         Azrael smiled.  "A valid question.  Very well then, your answer.  I have called for the evacuation of this city because the presence of humanity here is of great inconvenience to me.  I need...room...space with which to work.  Rather than flatten the city, I thought it prudent to allow you the chance to safely get your citizens out of my way."
         Within one of the tanks, Matthews bared his teeth.  His chest heaved up and down with heavy breaths.
         Bartlett looked at him oddly.  "You need space to work...work at what?"
         Azrael began to advance again.  "Well...you see, what you have heard so far is, basically correct."
         "He's coming towards us!"  Matthews yelled.  "Don't you see, he's heading straight for us!  We have to take him out while we have the chance!"
         "Dammit, this is not the time or place!  At ease!"  Bartlett said forcefully through the radio.
         "Truthfully, this evacuation is somewhat of a futile effort."  Azrael continued.  "My race, the Fulgore race, is now beginning to rise upon this planet.  Unfortunately, this planet is already inhabited by your race, humanity.  Sadly, thanks to the violent nature of humanity, our two peoples cannot share this planet in peace.  Therefore, in order to clear the way for a new genesis of life on this planet, humanity must die."
         Matthews bared his teeth again.
         "Sweet merciful Jesus."  President Harrison said, within the East Room.  "Is he serious?"
         "I told you, this guy is a nutcase."  Skinner spat.
         Orchid calmly put down the microphone for the transmitter, and turned away from it.  "I already know what's going to happen from here," she said, as she started to leave the room, "I can't listen to this."
         Jago, Thunder, and the others watched her leave.  Jago knew what she meant, but desperately hoped against all hope that she was wrong.
         "You can't be serious!"  Bartlett exclaimed, a little surprised.  "All of humanity?  You plan to murder all of humanity?"
         "Yes."  Azrael answered.  "Every single human."
         Matthews could listen to no more.  With Azrael directly in his sights, he clenched down on his trigger, firing at his target.
         "Damnit!"  Bartlett swore, as he ducked away, running away from the tanks and towards the sidewalk.  "I told that fool not to fire!"
         The tank shell barreled directly at Azrael; however, it stopped only a foot from actually making contact with him.  The tank shell exploded in a burst of crimson flame, engulfing Azrael and the area around him.
         "What the hell was that?"  Skinner asked.
         Thunder looked up, dejected.  "They fired."
         Matthews grinned, barely containing his excitement.  "Yes!  I nailed him!"
         Weston immediately turned to his consoles.  "Jesus man, you were supposed to hold your fire!"
         "What?  You heard him, didn't you?  Is anyone really going to blame me for blasting that scumbag back to hell?  C'mon, we got him!"
         "Well, I hope that - what?!"  Weston discovered something disturbing on his display.  "I don't believe it!"
         Matthews glanced back at him, then returned to his scope.  Outside, the smoke that billowed from the point of impact cleared unnaturally, as if a controlled gust of wind had been ordered to clear it away.  Azrael stood, completely unfazed by the attack, in front of a black crater where the shell had exploded.  His eyes had narrowed, as he stared intently at the tank.
         "What the hell?!"  Matthews exclaimed, in disbelief.  "I must have missed somehow!"  He gripped his controls again, and fired another round directly at the cyborg.
         The shell proceeded straight for Azrael, but once again stopped directly in front of him.  Azrael casually raised his right hand, next to the suspended shell.  Suddenly, he tossed his arm forward - following suit, the shell reversed course, heading back to the tank.  It happened so fast, neither Matthews nor Weston could react.  The shell went back into the barrel of the tank from where it had emerged - not even a second later, the tank exploded in a great, outward force.
         At the East Room, without warning, the radio fell silent, as communications were lost.
         "What happened?"  President Harrison asked.  "What's going on?"  She looked towards Jago and Thunder.
         Jago dropped his head.  Thunder looked up - his eyes caught the President's briefly, before he turned away.  President Harrison got the message.
         Back at the newly turned battlefield, the other two tanks, witnessing the destruction of their allies, immediately fired at the enemy.  Exactly as it happened before, the shells stopped directly in front of Azrael.  Again, they reversed course, plowing back into the tank barrels, and destroying the two tanks.
         "Goddamnit!"  Bartlett swore as he slid under the canopy, next to Lt. Preston.  "I told him not to fire!"
         Samuel, much like the other soldiers on the battlefield, was more than a little flustered.  "Captain, should we open fire?"
         Bartlett held up a hand, gesturing for silence.  "No...do you hear that?  The air units are coming in."
         Samuel half-smiled.  "The air units?  That's good!  ...Right...?"
         Bartlett shook his head.  "I'm not too sure about that."
         Azrael continued to stand in the center of the street.  His head was bowed, and he appeared to be looking down, not paying attention to the surroundings around him.  Suddenly, a missile streaked downward from the sky.  Azrael still didn't move - as if he was completely unaware of it.  Nonetheless, the missile stopped roughly a foot away from the back of Azrael's neck.  Finally, Azrael turned his head slightly, acknowledging the intruder.  As soon as he did, a hailstorm of bullets rained down upon him, from snipers in the adjacent buildings.  Azrael's eyes flattened, as if annoyed.  The bullets stopped a few inches away from the cyborg, then immediately reversed course, flying into various upper level floors of the two buildings.  Subsequently, there were no more bullet storms.
         Turning his attention back to the missile, Azrael turned around.  Without word or gesture, he flew straight up, taking the missile with him.  A few hundred meters above, a black Apache assault helicopter hovered.  Azrael stopped directly in front of it, much to the horror of the three pilots of the chopper.  The cyborg then reached up and grabbed the missile...he looked at it for a moment, as if examining it...then he nonchalantly threw it towards the chopper.  The missile crashed through the front windshield, and subsequently exploded.  The chopper, bathed in flames, fell slowly down to the street below.  Silently, Azrael watched as it fell.
         His soliloquy was rudely interrupted by another two intruders - two more missiles closed in on him, this time from behind.  Azrael stopped them again, this time exploding them as they stopped just a few inches away.  He turned around just in time to see an F-16 fighter jet race past him.  A terrific gust of wind followed, which caused Azrael's cloak to whip forward, however the cyborg remained unaffected.
         Within the cockpit of the jet, the pilot and the gunner, whose call-names were Zero and Vulture respectively as indicated on their helmets, studied their instruments.
         "Did we get him?"  Zero asked.
         "Damn...no...he's still on radar!"  Vulture responded.  "That was a direct hit!  What does it take?"
         "I'm coming back around," Zero said, "prepare Fox 4 and 5."
         "Roger!"  Vulture armed the missiles for another attempt.
         Zero turned the plane around to face the enemy again.  He had moved - he was no longer floating in mid-air...he had settled down on the rooftop of a nearby building.  Vulture lined the cyborg up in his sights, and gripped his controls."
         "Lock confirmed!"  He said.  "Fox 4 and 5, fire!"
         One missile from each wing of the F-16 fired from the jet, piercing the sky as it traveled towards Azrael.  Azrael looked up and smiled, slightly.
         "Got him."  Vulture whispered as the missiles closed in on Azrael.  Suddenly, everything changed.  More specifically, everything went blue at first.  Then, everything changed.  Vulture could no longer feel the G force pressing him down in his seat.  He wasn't breathing the compressed cockpit air.  He wasn't even sitting anymore.  No...strangely, he was standing outside now.  Vulture could only vaguely sense where he was standing...on a rooftop.  A sudden horrible queasiness gripped him - he looked up to find two missiles - the very two missiles he fired - coming straight at him.  Vulture did not even have the chance to scream, before the missiles slammed into his position, causing a great explosion.
         "Yeah!"  Zero exclaimed, seeing the missiles hit the rooftop.  "That got him, didn't it?"
         "It most certainly did."
         Zero's eyes widened.  That was not Vulture's voice.  He glanced backwards in his seat - to his amazement, he found the enemy, Azrael, sitting in the gunner's seat.
         "What?!"  Zero exclaimed.  "What in the world...?!"
         "Greetings!"  Azrael said lightly.
         Zero turned back around in his chair, breathing very heavily.  "It can't be.  It just can't be.  No way."  He thought to himself, repeatedly.
         "Rogue 9, come in, this is Rogue 3, do you read?"  A voice chimed in through the radio.  "Confirm that target was destroyed, over."
         Azrael smiled again.  "Aren't you going to answer that?"
         Zero took a very large breath.  He still couldn't believe what was happening.  But that was not important.  He had duties, responsibilities.  He pressed his radio button.
         "This is Rogue 9...target has not been destroyed.  Confirm: target has not been destroyed.  Target is...in my cockpit."
         "What?  Please repeat, Rogue 9."
         "I said...target is in my cockpit.  You know what to do, ace.  Over."  Zero closed the communications channel.
         Within Rogue 3, the gunner shook his head.  "That's...that's impossible!"
         "You heard him."  The pilot said.  "I don't know how...but you heard what he said.  You know what we have to do."
         "I can't!  I can't fire on our own guy!"
         "You're going to have to.  This might be our only chance to get a clean shot at the enemy.  I'm coming around - ready your missiles."
         "Damn it!"  The gunner slammed his fists down on the console.
         Zero released his hands from the control stick.  The plane leveled out, and went into a coast.  Zero glanced back at Azrael.  "You've made a big mistake now.  I'm not going to eject - you won't be able to get out of this cockpit."
         Azrael raised an eye.  "Don't tell me...your own allies are going to fire on you?"
         Zero glanced back at him.  "I'm just doing my duty."
         A steady beep filled the cockpit.  It was the indicator that a missile lock had been obtained on the aircraft.  Zero tried to ignore it the best he could.
         Azrael leaned forward.  He noticed something - a small picture taped to Zero's controls.  It was Zero, plus a young woman, and a little girl.
         "Is that your family?"  Azrael asked.
         "Yep."  Zero responded coldly.
         "So tell me...how do you think they'll feel when they hear that daddy is dead?"
         "They'll be sad, of course...but they'll move on.  They will understand that I did what I had to.  What I had to do to protect them."
         "See, this is my dilemma."  Azrael sat back in his seat.  "I have been saying all along, you just can't underestimate humanity.  You people are violent and selfish, for the most part...but every now and then, one of you seems to transcend the limitations of your species.  This is why you are so dangerous."
         The beep turned into a steady warning hum.  It meant that the missile lock had turned into an actual missile fire.
         Azrael leaned forward again.  "However, I feel you should know...that despite your valiant efforts here...I'll live."
         Zero's eyes widened.  Then, two missiles slammed into the side of the jet, destroying it completely in a ball of flames.
         The pilot of Rogue 3 lowered his head.  "God bless him."  He said softly.
         The gunner looked away, unable to acknowledge his console.
         The radar boldly butted in.  It gave off its steady, slow beep, indicating the presence of a nearby target.  The gunner looked down at it.
         "What?  I don't...I don't believe it!"  He exclaimed.
         "What?"  The pilot glanced backwards, then looked out his cockpit windshield, back to where the other jet exploded.  He could not believe his eyes; the smoke was clearing unnaturally, as the remains of the debris tumbled down from the sky.  Within the center, Azrael floated, completely unaffected.
         "He survived?  How?"  The gunner asked, frayed.
         "You mean Zero just...damnit!  I'll get him this time!"  Upset, the pilot grasped the controls and turned the plane around sharply.  He flew straight at Azrael.  "Fire everything we've got."  He said through his teeth.
         "Right!"  Not even bothering with setting up a weapons lock, the gunner lined Azrael up in his sights and fired wildly.
         Azrael ignored the bullet and missile barrage, as they slowed to a stop moments before hitting him.  The pilot of Rogue 3, still determined, continued his dead-on course towards the cyborg.  The plane barreled towards him, stopping immediately just a few feet away.  It stopped as if it had hit a brick wall, and exploded instantly.

         President Harrison looked at both Jago and Thunder.  "You mean that thing is attacking those men out there?"
         She was again answered by silence.
         "This is absurd!"  Skinner said.  "But if he wants a fight, let him.  We'll show him what we're made out of."
         "It's not that easy."  Thunder said softly.  "If it were, do you think we would be going through all this trouble?"
         The radio squawked again.  Another voice came through.
         "Home base, come in.  This is Captain Thomas Cannon, of the 65th."
         One of the soldiers looked up at the map.  "They're right next to the 431st!"
         "We have been picking up signs of a battle taking place very close to our position."  The Captain continued.  "We believe that the 431st is under attack, which is stationed next to us.  Do you know anything about this situation?  Our evac efforts are still in progress, but we would like to spare some manpower to the situation if possible."
         Everyone in the East Room looked around nervously.  Skinner began to make a move to the radio, but Thunder shook his head.  Skinner glared at him; sighing, Thunder stood up and went over to the radio instead.
         "Captain Cannon?"  Thunder said.  "This is home base.  We confirm that the 431st unit is under attack."  He swallowed hard, searching for the words.  "Under no circumstances are you to proceed to the battle zone.  Remain where you are."
         At the location of the 65th unit, Captain Cannon looked oddly into his microphone.  He was standing next to a hummer, using the unit's radio.  The driver of the vehicle also had an odd look on his face.
         "'Remain where we are'?"  The driver repeated.  "I dunno 'bout you, but that sounds pretty serious over there."  As if to confirm what he said, another explosion went off a few blocks away.
         The Captain nodded in agreement.  "Home base, please repeat that last instruction."
         "I repeat - you must remain where you are."  The voice on the radio said.  "Whatever you do, do not approach the battlefield."
         The driver shook his head.  Yet another explosion mildly shook the ground beneath them.  "The hell?  I think our guys are getting killed over there!"
         "My apologies," the Captain said, "but with whom am I speaking with?"
         "My name is Thunder."
         "I'm sorry, but I'm not familiar with you."
         "I'm one of Orchid's friends...the woman who briefed you all on the evacuation."
         "If that's the case...you don't have any authority to give me orders."
         Thunder frowned.  He turned around, and looked at Skinner and President Harrison.
         "Well, what's wrong?"  Skinner asked.  "Why don't we send more troops to the situation?"
         "You don't understand!"  Thunder said.  "Azrael cannot be beaten by conventional weapons!"
         Skinner growled.  "If the 431st unit is under attack - if those men are being killed, why the hell aren't we trying to help them?!  You people have done nothing but sidestep the real issue here!  It's about time we started taking the fight to him!"
         "Damnit, don't you get it?  I wish we could help those soldiers too!  But there's nothing we can do about it!  Conventional weapons do not work against Fulgore technology!  Think about it - if one cyborg - one individual, is fighting against an entire unit, and killing them, what difference would two units make?  Three?  Four?  Send all the troops you have out there, and the end result would still be the same!  Any more men you send...you will be ordering them to their deaths.  It's as simple as that.  I...I want to help them too...but we can't help them by sending more men to die."
         Skinner glared at him.  He seemed ready to explode at Thunder.  However, before he could, President Harrison quickly stepped in.  She gently took the transmitter from Thunder, and looked at both men before using it.
         "Captain Cannon?  This is President Patricia Harrison.  Do you read me?"
         The Captain and the driver exchanged glances.  "Yes madam president, Sir."  The Captain said.  "I read you."
         "Captain Cannon...I hereby order you to remain at your current location."
         "What?!"  The driver exclaimed.  "What is going on?"
         "I understand..." the Captain said, "...but can you at least tell me what is going on?"
         "The enemy...the enemy known as Azrael did appear at the location of the 431st unit.  We cannot confirm, but we do believe that he did in fact start an attack against them."
         "Azrael?  That's...that's..."
         "Yes, he is.  He is extremely dangerous, and you must not engage him."
         "But...what about the 431st?"
         "I repeat...you are ordered to remain where you are."
         "Our guys are getting killed..."  The driver whispered.
         "Madam President...why can we not join the battle?"
         There was a momentary pause on the radio.  "That order is given...for the safety of everyone in the 65th unit, as well as the citizens that have not yet been evacuated from your zone."
         "Madam President, with all due respect, my men are ready and willing to walk into any battle, especially if it means helping out our comrades."
         "I realize that.  What you have to understand though is...the 431st unit is already dead."
         "What?  Madam President, I don't want to contradict you, but we can still clearly hear shots being fired...the battle is still going on..."
         "What I mean is...there is nothing you can do for those men...if you proceed to the battle, you will only go to die, nothing more.  There is...there's nothing you can do for the 431st.  Therefore, you are ordered to remain where you are, and proceed with your evacuation efforts.  President Harrison out."
         Captain Cannon held his transmitter tightly.  His eyes were bulged, as he breathed heavily.  "Nothing...we can do?"  He said softly.  "Those men are already dead...?"
         "Captain..."  The driver said.  "Ok, this is ridiculous.  We have to go.  If those men are in trouble...we have to go.  Damnit, I'll go."  The driver prepared to start the hummer.
         "You heard her."  The Captain reprimanded the soldier.  "We are ordered to stand by."
         "Captain...what the hell do those pencil pushers know?  No disrespect, but the President is a politician...she has spent her life behind desks and papers.  She has no idea what it's like out on the field.  She might not think it's worth the risk to send us, but if we do anything, if we can save even one soldier...we have to go.  I don't care if I get court-martialed."
         "The President ordered you to stay where you are and so am I!"  Captain Cannon suddenly yelled.  "Look, I understand what you are saying.  I agree with you.  But...those pencil pushers are also our superiors.  There is such a thing as a chain of command, and as soldiers, we have to obey it.  Our job is to follow the orders we were given.  We just have to trust that up in the offices, our superiors are making the right decisions.  In the same way they trust us to follow their orders.  If we start breaking that...how can they trust us?  So...we hold our positions.  Besides...something...something's not right.  Something's not right about this whole situation.  I can feel it."
         The driver looked at the Captain for a moment, and then slammed his palms down on the steering wheel in frustration.

         "Jesus Merciful Christ, of all the times..." Samuel muttered to himself, as he desperately tried to fix his assault rifle.  Azrael was standing in the middle of the street now.  The other soldiers, both in the canopy and now positioned up the street, were steadily firing at him.  Azrael was still completely unaffected.  The bullets, as usual, were stopping just under a foot away from the cyborg.
         Samuel still had his sidearm, but he did not think that it would be potent enough to have an effect on the enemy.  Not that the rifles were faring any better.  But it was the best thing he had.
         Captain Bartlett was the only other soldier not firing.  He could sense that something was definitely wrong about this situation.  These bullets, the tank shells, and all the missiles that had been fired before...never even touched Azrael.  He was controlling them somehow.  Captain Bartlett could sense that their weapons, crazy as it sounds, would not work here.
         "Hey Lieutenant," Bartlett turned to Sam, "do you remember the briefing on this Azrael...y'know, back at the White House?"
         "Um...yeah, sort of."  Samuel responded.
         "That Orchid woman...something she said...didn't she say that the best chance we have against a Fulgore is hand to hand combat?"
         "Yeah...yeah, I think she did say that."
         Bartlett looked up - the collection of bullets that hovered around Azrael continued to grow larger.  "Well, even if she didn't...it's not like what we're doing now is working."  He stood up and held out both his arms.  "Men, cease fire!  Do you hear me!  Cease fire immediately!"
         After a few seconds, the attacks stopped completely.  Azrael looked up, apparently interested.  He held out his right hand - all of the bullets that hovered about him now moved into his hand.  The sum was larger than he could grasp, but the excesses seemed to stick to the other bullets.  There was a sudden blue flare from his hands, and the bullets quickly disappeared into nothingness.
         Captain Bartlett took a few uneasy steps out into the street.  He took out his sidearm and dropped it on the street.  "All right, you've proved your point."  He said to Azrael.  "Guns don't work on you it seems.  In that case, why don't we settle this like men?"  The Captain raised his clenched fists in front of him.
         Azrael's eyes widened.  "Well now, a fighter.  What a pleasant surprise!  Very well, let us do battle."  Unlike the Captain, he continued to stand straight.
         Bartlett moved in using succinct steps.  The soldiers all watched intently, seemingly holding their breaths.  Bartlett was now within striking distance of Azrael. He expected his opponent to, at the very least, go into some sort of stance, but Azrael continued to stand as is.  Hoping he could capitalize on the situation, Bartlett threw a quick jab at the cyborg.  Azrael dodged it by simply tilting his head, immediately restoring it to the upright position.  Bartlett seemed jarred by the adept evasion, but collected himself and threw a quick set of punches.  Azrael again dodged by moving his head, nothing more.  The Captain frowned, then tried something new - another set of head jabs, followed by a body shot.  Azrael moved his head once more - but when the body shot came, he sidestepped out of the way with time to spare.  Like his head movements, he immediately returned to his former position after the attack finished.
         Captain Bartlett looked at the cyborg in amazement.  His opponent had dodged all of his attacks, without having to actually put up any defense.  He was not moving at some sort of super speed - he just seemed to be able to react very quickly, and even anticipate the next move.  Bartlett shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.  He took a deep breath - then rushed in for a wild flurry of attacks.  He threw anything and everything as randomly as possible - head jabs, hooks, fierces, elbows, chest shots, gut shots, and forearms.  Azrael dodged them all swiftly, moving from one evasion to another seamlessly, as if it were a dance.  Bartlett took a wide hook at Azrael; the cyborg took a small dashing step backwards, then went back to his standing position.  Bartlett paused to catch his breath.
         "Hmm."  Azrael started.  "I'm disappointed.  I thought you were a fighter.  Instead, you're just a brawler - a simple street fighter.  No form or discipline."
         Bartlett frowned.  As a response, he made a very quick motion, grabbing an attack knife from his right hip, and almost in the same motion, flinging it at Azrael.  The knife cut through the air, but much like everything else today, stopped a few inches short from hitting Azrael in the head with the tip of the blade.  Azrael raised his right hand, and in a very similar motion, yet without ever touching the object, he sent the knife flying back at the Captain.  The blade buried itself into Bartlett's forehead, until only the handle was visible.  Bartlett's eyes rolled into his head, as he tipped over backwards.
         The soldiers watched the scene in horror and silence for a moment.
         "He just killed the Captain!"  One soldier exclaimed suddenly.
         Immediately, the gunfire resumed, louder and more passionate than it was before.
         Samuel ducked behind his table again, desperately pounding on his rifle.  He could feel emotions surging up from his stomach, but he did not have time for that now.  All he wanted to do was fire his gun at the intruder, and hope beyond hope that at least one bullet made it through.  Silently, he hit the weapon repeatedly, tired of reasoning with it.  Finally, the locking mechanism fell into place - the rifle was ready for use.
         "Damn!  Finally!"  Samuel spun around and sprung up quickly, getting ready to fire.  As he spun around, he barely caught sight of Azrael - his right hand emerged suddenly from his cape, and flew outward.  The bullets that had been fired also flew outwards, away from Azrael and back towards their point of origin.  Acting on instinct, Samuel dropped back down under the table again.  Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, with only the sound of his heavy breathing.  Then, there was a significant thud.  Then another.  And one more.  Samuel looked to his right; the soldier who had been positioned next to him fell to the ground dead.  Another thud.  Samuel looked to his left; he could see four soldiers falling, their bodies horribly contorted, already dead before they stopped moving.  More thuds.  Samuel breathed harder now.  And then, once more, his breathing was all that was left.
         Samuel stood up again.  He looked around the canopy - all of the soldiers had fallen dead to the ground.  He could feel his heart racing now.  He turned and looked down the street - all of those men were down too.  There was nothing but silence.  No more gunfire, no more yelling.  Even the cackle of the fire caused by the wreckage of the helicopter and the tanks on the street seemed to have faded away.
         "Oh God...am I the only one left?"
         Unwillingly, his eyes turned towards the middle of the street, where Azrael stood.  The cyborg's arm had retreated back inside of his crimson cloak.  He stood straight still, but now with his head bowed.  But Azrael lifted his head, and slowly, his eyes met Samuel's.  Samuel recoiled, as if he had been struck.  Involuntarily, he looked away, and then back again, but now the cyborg was gone.
         Samuel panicked.  He looked down the street, and up in the sky, but nothing was there.  In his frenzy, he looked to his left, which bore nothing, and then to his right.  And his heart nearly jumped out of his chest upon seeing Azrael, standing underneath the canopy, just a few feet away.
         Without thinking, Samuel raised his weapon.  He pointed it with shaking hands at his adversary.  He wanted to fire, but his heavy breathing kept his finger stiff.  Azrael started moving forward now.  Samuel felt himself turning inside out now.  He wanted to fire, but somehow he could not.  His mind kept flashing back...back to the numerous bullets and missiles that had been stopped in their place.  His mind jumped to witness Azrael reversing their own weapons against them.  The dead men that surrounded them were killed by the bullets they fired.  Somehow, even in his current state, Samuel knew that the bullet he could feel lying in wait inside of the gun would eventually end up in his own body.  And as his finger trembled on the trigger, all he could think of was his wife and his daughter.  He wanted to see them again so badly.  He did not want to die here.  He resolved to himself that, if he was going to die here, it wasn't going to be by his own bullet.
         Samuel dropped his gun.  Azrael, who had closed in to only a few inches away from the barrel, stopped, with his right eye rising slightly.
         Breathing hard, Samuel looked up at Azrael, avoiding his eyes.  "The...uh...the evacuation...the evacuation is going well."  He remembered the question that the cyborg had asked at the beginning of this entire ordeal.
         Azrael's eyes widened.  Then, they curved upwards, and unexpectedly, Azrael began to laugh.  A full, hearty laugh.  Samuel looked at him oddly, in complete disbelief of the response.
         "Finally..." Azrael said, finishing his laugh, "finally...one of you understands."
         Samuel glared at the cyborg.  Azrael straightened himself and stood erect.  Suddenly, Samuel's world was engulfed by blue light.  His heart jumped, as he believed that this was the end of his life.  Strangely, it did not hurt at all.  He wanted to close his eyes, but found himself too frozen in tension to move.  The blue light faded away, and reality returned to him.  No longer was he outside, on the burned out city street.  No, now he was somewhere different...somewhere familiar.

         "The hell?"  Skinner exclaimed, as the teleportation energy appeared next to him.  He jumped backwards, out of the way.
         When the blue energy faded, it revealed Azrael, and a young soldier holding a rifle.  Everyone who had been seated in the East Room now jumped out of their seats.  They looked nervously first at the soldier, then at Azrael.  Azrael never took his eyes off the young soldier, as the teleportation sequence faded.  The energy flared up again, this time enveloping only Azrael, and when it faded away, the cyborg was gone.  The young soldier looked around with wide eyes, and obviously very frayed.
        "Hey...are you all right?"  Jago asked.
        The soldier continued to look around.  "Is this...is this the East Room...in the White House?"
        President Harrison walked over to his slowly.  "Yes, yes it is.  Do you know what happened, soldier?"
        The soldier ran his hands through his hair.  "Madam President....Madam President!  I...uh...Lt. Samuel Preston, of the 431st."
        Everyone looked around at each other again.  The 431st.
        "We're you attacked?"  Skinner asked roughly.
        Samuel nodded weakly.
        "What happened?  What happened to the other soldiers?"  Skinner pressed on.
        "...Dead.  All dead.  Even the air units were destroyed."
        A somber silence filled the room.  President Harrison put her hand on Samuel's shoulder, and led him over to a seat, where he sat down shakily.
        "He didn't kill me...he didn't kill me..."  Samuel whispered to himself repeatedly.
        "What happened out there?"  Skinner asked again.
        Samuel looked up at him, feeling a very heavy sickness at the bottom of his stomach.  This seemed to be something other than reality somehow.  "We...we ID'ed the enemy, Azrael, at our position.  He and Captain Bartlett were talking about something...and then one of the tanks fired.  But nothing happened.  The tank fired again...he...he...he just stopped the shell, and sent it back into the tank.  The other tanks fired...but the same thing happened.  The air units attacked...and we...we tried to shoot...but just...nothing happened."
        "He destroyed all the units...the tanks, the jets?"  A soldier asked.
        Samuel nodded.
        "Why did Azrael bring you back here?"  Another soldier asked.
        "I don't know."  Samuel responded.  "I was trying to fix my gun...it hadn't been working all day...and before I knew it, everyone else was dead.  I was going to fire...but I just couldn't bring myself to do it.  He said something about 'finally...one of us understands' or something...and now I'm here."
        Jago's eyes widened for a moment, then he looked down.
        Skinner frowned deeply.  "What kind of weapons was he using?  Can you tell us about his offensive and defensive capabilities?"
        Samuel stared at the floor.  "Not really.  He never fired anything at us.  He just...he...he turned our own weapons against us.  Our own bullets...our own bullets..."
        Thunder could see just how hard the young soldier was struggling.  He could also see Skinner's face twisting, already formulating another question.  Quickly, he slid over to Skinner, and put his hand on his shoulder.
        "I'm sure the Lt. here will be able to answer questions later."  Thunder said.  "Right now, he just watched his own unit get killed.  This isn't the time."
        Skinner frowned at Thunder, then glanced over at the President.  She shook her head silently.  Skinner folded his arms in compliant protest.
        Thunder turned to Samuel.  "Is there anything you need?"
        Samuel looked up at him, directly in his eyes.  "I...I'd really like to contact my family.  They were evac'ed first...they should have reached their destination by now.  I have a phone number..."  He began to search the pockets on his uniform.
        "Hey, don't worry about it."  Thunder said softly.  "We'll take care of it."
        President Harrison walked away from Samuel, back towards Jago.  Thunder and Skinner followed.
        "I just don't understand - what the hell just happened here?"  She asked.
        "Azrael did this to prove a point."  Jago said, without looking at anyone.
        "The hell?"  Skinner said.  "A point?  What point could he possibly..."
        "Hey...what did you say Azrael said right before he left here?"
        Skinner's eyes widened.  "I don't know...some garbage about asking someone else about the evacuation...he said something about only defending himself."
        Jago shook his head.  "Don't you see what just happened?  Azrael did not attack those men.  He used their own weapons against them.  That soldier did not fire at him, and he's the only one to have survived.  Do you get it?"
        President Harrison looked at him oddly.  "Are you trying to say that...if those men had not fired at Azrael..."
        "They would still be alive."  Thunder finished the sentence, realizing the situation.
        Skinner looked as if he was ready to blow up, but checked himself.
        "I'm tired of this."  President Harrison said.  "I want some answers.  Now.  Too many good men have been killed.  We need to get to the bottom of this now."
        "That's fair enough."  Thunder said.  "We'll tell you everything we know.  We don't mean to hide anything from you...it's just that the evacuation efforts are first right now."
        "And I want increased security," the President continued, "we can't have that thing waltzing around the White House as he pleases."
        "To be frank with you," Thunder said, "we don't have the ability to keep Azrael out of here.  He'll come and go as he pleases.  If you don't want him to come to the White House, you need to empty it of anything of interest, which includes us and our makeshift base of operations.  I don't know if Orchid has already mentioned this, but she said that we should set up a base on the outskirts of New York.  To allow us to get as close to the city as possible without actually going in.  We should probably try to do this as soon as possible."
        "Well then, Miss Orchid can find me to talk about that matter.  There's a lot I want to discuss with her right now."
        "I'll try to find her."  Jago cut in.  "Excuse me."  Keeping his head down, he quickly exited the room.  As he walked past, Thunder could sense the heaviness in his heart.  He wished he could say something to ease the young warrior, but Thunder found himself wishing he had words to soothe his own heart.