Seattle Run

Chapter Twenty

“I apologize for my carelessness.”

“You’ve already apologized. A dozen times.”

“I allowed myself to be tricked,” Rikki said. “I was foolish.”

Blade sighed and glanced over his right shoulder at the martial artist.

“Would you feel any better if I agreed with you? You made a mistake. We all make mistakes. Now forget about it.”

“I am not accustomed to making mistakes,” Rikki remarked.

“I wish I could say that,” Blade said.

“Shut up!” one of their escorts barked. “Both of you!”

Ten Sharks were taking the Warriors to a meeting with Tiger. They had arrived at the cell minutes ago and announced that Tiger wanted the prisoners brought before him. The Sharks had prudently bound the Warriors and removed Blade’s Bowies. Four of the Sharks were walking in front of Blade, the rest behind Rikki. Six of the ten carried rifles.

Tiger wasn’t taking any chances.

Despite his predicament, Blade marveled at the outstanding artwork they passed in the corridors.

They climbed a short flight of stairs and entered an enormous chamber.

In contrast to all of the other rooms in the museum, this chamber was devoid of artistic masterpieces. It was filled with Sharks, standing room only. They were jammed into a compact mass surrounding a cleared space in the center. At the sight of the Warriors, the conversation level rose.

“Make way!” the head of the escort bellowed.

The throng parted to permit the escort to pass.

Tiger was awaiting them in the middle of the chamber.

his hands on his hips, a smile on his lips. To his right was Gar, to his left Fab, both bearing their shotguns. Fab also wore Rikki’s katana, the scabbard angled under her belt above her left hip.

“Welcome, contestants!” Tiger called out.

As they emerged from the crowd, Blade spied the arrangement behind Tiger and the twins. A long, narrow wooden rail had been positioned horizontally on stout upright posts. Under the 20-foot rail, and on all sides, projecting upward from the tiled floor, were dozens and dozens of sharp metal spikes.

Tiger scanned the Sharks. “Are you ready for a little excitement?”

“Yes!” they chorused back.

Tiger grinned at Blade. “I trust you will not disappoint them. Try to put on a good show.”

Blade nodded at the rail and the spikes. “What is this?”

Tiger chuckled. “I told you I need a workout. This is how I exercise, how I keep my reflexes at their peak.”

“What does all of this have to do with us?” Blade asked.

“Everything,” Tiger said. “You or your friend will be the featured attraction.”

“Doing what?” Blade inquired.

Tiger smirked. “Staying alive, I’d imagine.” He pointed at the rail. “Do you know what that is?”

“No,” Blade admitted.

“That’s a balance beam,” Tiger disclosed. “The exact kind they used before the war. You or your friend will be on the balance beam with me.

The object is to walk from one end to the other without falling off. One of us will, and one of us won’t.”

Blade stared at the spikes under the beam and encircling it. Some of those spikes were a foot in length, others slightly shorter.

Tiger gazed in the same direction. “Those spikes were extremely difficult for our metalworkers to construct. Imbedding them in the floor was nearly as hard.”

Blade looked at the Shark leader. “Don’t go through with this,” he warned.

“Why not?”

“You might die,” Blade said.

Tiger threw back his head and laughed. “I might die? Your fear is showing, Blade!”

Rikki glanced at the beam, then at Blade. “Permit me.”

“No,” Blade said.

“I am smaller,” Rikki stated.

“So?”

“My feet are much smaller than yours,” Rikki noted. “To me, walking on the beam will be like walking on a fallen tree. To you, it will be like walking on a toothpick. I am more likely to retain my footing.”

“I’ll do it,” Blade insisted.

Tiger leaned toward them. “Gentlemen! Please! This argument is unnecessary. Each of you will have the opportunity to show your prowess on the beam. One of you will try with me tonight, the other at a later date.”

“I will do it,” Blade declared.

Tiger shrugged. “Suit yourself. Personally, I was hoping you would be the one.” He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

Blade extended his arms. “Am I supposed to do this with my wrists tied?”

“Not at all,” Tiger said. “I said I would be fair.” He stared at the burly head of the escort. “Untie him.”

Rikki held his wrists up. “What about me?”

“What about you?” Tiger retorted. “Your wrists stay tied.”

Fabiana frowned.

Blade studied the balance beam as the burly Shark untied him. When his wrists were free he rubbed them to fully restore his circulation.

“Any questions?” Tiger asked the Warrior.

“What are the rules?” Blade queried.

“Rules?” Tiger repeated, and laughed. “There are no rules. The contest is simple. You climb on one end of the balance beam, I climb on the other.

The first one to reach the opposite end alive wins.”

“There’s not enough room for us to pass each other without falling off,” Blade mentioned.

Tiger smirked. “Acute, aren’t you? You are permitted to do whatever is necessary to get past your opponent.”

“And the one who falls off lands on the spikes,” Blade commented.

“Exactly,” Tiger stated. “Only one of us will win. Only one of us will be alive when it’s all over.”

Blade looked at the Shark leader. “Whose warped idea was this? Yours?”

Tiger did a mock bow. “I claim all the credit. After I became leader, after I had silenced all my opposition. I became bored with the routine.

Without stimulation, without challenges, even a superior man languishes.”

“How many have you murdered on this thing?” Blade asked.

“I don’t murder anyone,” Tiger responded testily. “Everyone has a fair chance.” He paused, chuckling. “Of course, my reflexes and sense of balance are superb. Nature’s gifts, you might say. And I am not to blame if others are not so gifted.”

“You didn’t answer me,” Blade pressed the Shark. “How many have you… killed on this beam of yours?”

Tiger shrugged. “Who keeps count? Two or three dozen, I’d estimate.”

Blade stared into Tiger’s eyes. “Your reign of abuse and murder ends here and now.”

“Ohhhh! I’m trembling in my boots!” Tiger said mockingly.

Blade took a step toward the balance beam. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Hold it,” Tiger said. “Don’t you want your Bowies?”

“I get to use my Bowies?” Blade asked in disbelief.

Tiger nodding, glancing at the burly Shark. “Cover him. Then give him his knives.”

Five Sharks trained their rifles on the Warrior.

The burly Shark walked over to the man who had carried the Bowies from the cell, took them, and returned the knives to the giant.

Blade hefted his prized Bowies, smiling. “You just made a mistake,” he said to Tiger.

“Did I?” Tiger rejoined. His hands disappeared behind his back, and when they reappeared a moment later he held a gleaming dagger in each palm.

“Good,” Blade said. “I want this to be fair too.”

Tiger turned toward the assembled Sharks. “Are you ready?” he yelled.

“Yes!” they thundered.

“Then let the contest commence!” Tiger shouted. He nodded at Blade, then threaded a path between the spikes to the far end of the balance beam.

Blade wondered how the Shark leader would mount the beam. The top of the balance beam was about five feet off the floor.

Tiger paused, deposited his daggers on the beam, and quickly removed his boots and socks. He picked up the gold-handled daggers, took one step backwards from the end of the beam, then gave a little hop and a jump, placing his closed hands on the edge of the beam for support, the dagger blades pointing outward.

Blade was impressed. Tiger’s motions were fluid and graceful, his strength incredible. The Shark leader sailed up over the end of the beam, his body doubling in half, his feet alighting on the narrow beam as he straightened.

Some of the Sharks cheered.

Blade leaned toward Rikki and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I hate to sound like a sore loser, but if this madman should win, would you do me a favor?”

“Anything,” Rikki promised.

“Kill him,” Blade stated.

“Will you two quit arguing over which one is going to do this!” Tiger impatiently called out. “Blade, tell your little friend he can have his chance after I dispose of you, if he wants.”

Rikki smiled at Blade, then looked at Tiger. “Glad to!” he responded.

Blade nodded at Rikki, then faced the balance beam. His stomach muscles tightened as he moved to the beam. There was scarcely room to place his boots between the spikes, and he couldn’t help but notice their razor points.

“Don’t take all day!” Tiger taunted the Warrior.

Blade reached the near end of the balance beam. He rested his Bowies on top, then emulated Tiger’s example by stripping off his boots and black socks.

Tiger folded his arms across his chest.

Blade gripped the Bowies, carefully rested his wrists on the top of the beam, then bent his knees and vaulted upward. He nearly missed. His buttocks came down on the very edge of the beam, and he would have toppled backwards onto the spikes were it not for the pressure of his wrists against the beam. He righted himself with a supreme effort.

Tiger laughed. “Inferior genes at work!”

Blade ignored the barb. He slowly brought his feet onto the beam, then, with his arms held out from his body to increase his balance, he stood.

“Bravo!” Tiger cried, clapping with the daggers in his hands. “Bravo!”

Blade gazed down at the spikes. There seemed to be a sea of them forming a wide circle around and under the beam. He hadn’t realized there were so many! One slip would be fatal!

“Shall we dance?” Tiger said to the Warrior.

“I’m not here to dance!” Blade snapped.

“Pity.” Tiger took a casual step forward and performed a remarkable maneuver. He leaped into the air, a good two feet above the beam, executed a 360-degree turn, and landed lightly on his feet, grinning.

Blade’s astonishment showed.

Tiger strolled toward the center of the beam. “Tell you what I’ll do. I’ll meet you halfway. If you can make it.” He walked to the middle and halted.

Blade shuffled toward the center. His feet felt slippery and he wobbled as he moved.

Rikki was watching with worry in his eyes.

Fabiana sidled next to the man in black.

Gar edged closer to the balance beam, his finger on the trigger of his shotgun.

The Sharks were vociferously encouraging their leader.

Blade took all of this in out of the corner of his eyes. He concentrated on maintaining his balance as he neared Tiger.

The Shark leader was waiting with an amused expression.

Blade stopped when he was three feet away. He held the Bowies in front of him.

“Finally,” Tiger said sarcastically. “I was beginning to believe you might have become lost!” He cackled.

“Do you fight with your daggers or your mouth?” Blade retorted.

Tiger scowled and crouched.

Just as a commotion erupted at the entrance to the chamber. There was a lot of yelling and shoving.

A lean, bedraggled figure burst through the crowd and raced toward the beam. He halted, inhaling deeply, out of breath from his strenuous exertion.

Tiger straightened. “Collins! What are you doing back? I sent you to investigate that fire.”

“We did!” Collins mumbled, having difficulty in speaking. “We’re under attack!”

“What? By the Brethren?”

“No,” Collins said, doubling over.

“Look at me, you fool!” Tiger roared.

Collins unfolded with a grunt. Sweat caked his face.

“If it’s not the Brethren, then who?” Tiger inquired angrily.

“Don’t know,” Collins replied breathily.

“How many are there?” Tiger questioned urgently.

“One,” Collins said.

Tiger’s slanted blue eyes narrowed. “One? Did you say one?”

Collins nodded.

“How dare you! You violate the sanctity of the contest because of one man!”

“You don’t understand!” Collins exclaimed. “We can’t stop him!”

“Tell me everything!” Tiger commanded.

“We went to north Seattle,” Collins detailed. “And we found the cause of the fire. Someone had piled paper and a lot of other flammable junk in the street, then lit it. That’s when we saw him.”

“Who?” Tiger queried.

“The big guy in the dark blue clothes,” Collins said. “He came out of an alley and told us to take him to our leader.”

“You refused?”

“Yeah. He said he was looking for his friends, and he suspected we knew where they were,” Collins detailed.

“What happened then?” Tiger inquired.

“I told him he was coming with us and to drop his weapons,” Collins answered.

“And?”

“He refused,” Collins said. “We tried to take him! We did! But he killed all the others!”

Tiger’s eyes widened. “I sent fifteen Sharks with you. He killed them all?”

Collins nodded, looking as if he wanted to cry.

“How is it you are alive?” Tiger asked.

“He… he stuck his machine gun to my head and made me bring him here!” Collins declared. “I didn’t want to do it! Honest!”

Tiger’s jaw muscles twitched. “If I wasn’t on this beam…” He glanced toward the doorway. “Where is this man in blue now?”

“Outside. Can’t you hear it?”

Tiger raised his head.

Man in blue? There was only one man in Seattle answering that description. Blade cocked his head, listening. From the distance arose the faint chatter of automatic gunfire.

“The guards tried to stop him from entering,” Collins went on. “He blew them away. Reinforcements showed up, but I don’t know how long we’ll be able to hold him! I got away when he was fighting the others.”

“This is only one guy!” Tiger remarked.

“You haven’t seen him!” Collins responded. “He’s not human! He just wades into us like we don’t even exist! He’s not afraid of anything! And he’s even taking guns from those he kills and using them against us!”

“Calm down!” Tiger directed. “I’m certain you are exaggerating to cover your miserable failure.”

“I’m not lying!” Collins cried.

“Then show your mettle! Take twenty others with you and stop this bastard!” Tiger instructed.

“Can’t I take more than twenty?” Collins asked.

“Certainly not,” Tiger stated. “It’s bad enough the twenty you take will miss this contest. I don’t want to deprive the rest of the spectacle of my victory.”

Collins frowned. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He turned and hastened to the entrance, indicating Sharks with a jab of his finger. He departed with 20 armed men and women on his heels.

“The fool!” Tiger hissed. “The miserable cur! First Oakes and now Collins! Cowardice must be contagious.”

“You don’t believe him?” Blade asked.

Tiger snorted. “How stupid do you think I am? He probably fled back here at the first sign of your friend in blue, and your friend simply followed him. I will tend to this man in blue after I deal with you.”

“You’re lucky you’re dealing with me instead of him,” Blade said. “You wouldn’t last two seconds against him.”

Tiger sneered and crouched. He inched forward, his daggers extended.

Blade held his right Bowie next to his abdomen and his left out from his chest.

“I’m going to enjoy this!” Tiger said wickedly.

“You’re going to enjoy your own death?” Blade rejoined.

Tiger was within two feet of the Warrior when he went into action. He suddenly spun, his right leg flicking up and out, his instep catching Blade’s left wrist and jarring the arm aside. As the Warrior’s arm was deflected, Tiger stabbed inward with his right dagger.

Blade threw himself backwards to evade the stroke, his left foot slipping out from under him. He tottered on the beam, his arms waving, trying desperately to regain his footing.

Tiger pressed his advantage, closing, slashing at the Warrior with his left dagger.

Blade felt the dagger bite through his right thigh. He swayed to the right, about to go over.

Tiger speared both daggers toward the Warrior’s chest.

Blade did the unexpected. He deliberately dropped from the beam, releasing his Bowies, and twisted his body toward the beam as he fell. His hands closed on the narrow rail, clamping with all of his prodigious power, and he wrenched himself upward, tucking his body against the underside of the rail. His legs swept up and around, his left leg wrapping over the beam, his right driving into the Shark leader’s midriff.

Tiger almost went over. He stumbled backwards and dropped to his left knee, clutching at the rail with his fingers.

Blade scrambled on top of the beam, his arm muscles bulging. He managed to perch his body on the rail, but with one problem.

He was facing away from Tiger!

Blade glanced over his right shoulder. The Shark leader had recovered and was slowly rising.

“You really are clever,” Tiger muttered.

Blade crawled a few feet from the Shark, then gingerly stood. He turned on the rail, knowing he was dead if he kept his back to his foe.

Tiger was advancing with his daggers at the ready.

Blade tentatively retreated, wishing he hadn’t let go of his Bowies.

“I must admit,” Tiger said, “you’ve put up a better fight than I expected.”

Blade didn’t respond, focusing his energy on backing to his end of the beam.

“In honor of your prowess, I’ll have your body buried instead of fed to the animals,” Tiger offered.

Blade looked over his left shoulder. The end of the beam was six feet off.

Time for his big move.

Blade halted.

Tiger also stopped, eyeing the Warrior suspiciously. “What are you up to now?”

“Nothing,” Blade lied.

“Why don’t you jump and make this easy on yourself?” Tiger asked.

“Why don’t you shove those daggers up your ass?” Blade countered.

Provoked by the affront, Tiger came on.

Blade estimated the Shark leader was five feet from him. He stared at the beam between them, his arms and shoulders tensing. He would have one chance, and one chance only. Tiger would be unlikely to fall for the same strategy twice. His mind flashed back to his teen years, to the rigorous exercise regimen he had adopted to develop his physique. Part of his regimen had involved calisthenics and basic gynmastics; he had improvised a makeshift set of rings and parallel bars, using photographs in a sports book in the Family library as his guide. Additionally, one of his favorite exercises had been a modified handstand. He would push himself into a vertical position on his hands, then do push-ups while in the handstand posture. So perhaps he could utilize his skill at standing on his hands to his advantage.

The gambit was worth a try.

What did he have to lose?

Other than his life?

Tiger was smirking, savoring his impending triumph.

Blade made his move. He bent over sideways, his left side toward Tiger, and gripped the rail with both sturdy hands. His forearms swelled as he applied his entire weight to his arms, and in the next instant he was doing a handstand on the balance beam.

Tiger checked his advance, his features registering his consternation.

“What the…!”

Blade’s confidence was growing with each passing second. He found, as he had hoped, that it was much easier to balance on the beam on his hands than it had been on his feet. His hands took up less space and could grasp the rail tightly, whereas his feet were hampered by the limited gripping ability of his toes. On a flat surface he could walk on his hands for an indeterminate distance; he didn’t see any reason why he couldn’t do the same thing on the balance beam.

“Have you flipped?” Tiger queried, snickering.

Blade twisted his head so he could stare up at the Shark leader. “I haven’t got all day!” he said derisively.

Tiger stepped toward the Warrior, his daggers outstretched to maximize his range. He was three feet from his adversary, eager to draw blood, when the tide of battle turned.

Upright on his massive arms, watching Tiger’s every move, Blade abruptly whipped his right leg down.

Tiger retreated a stride to avoid the leg. His forehead furrowed. He looked at the Warrior for a moment, then tried to get within striking distance.

Blade swept his leg down a second time, forcing Tiger to stop in his tracks.

Tiger was frustrated and stymied. Blade’s legs were longer than his arms. He wouldn’t be able to get close to the giant without risking a blow from one of the legs. And although he might score a hit with his daggers, just a glancing blow from those legs would be enough to topple him from the rail and onto the spikes. For the first time, a hint of self-doubt crept over his face.

Blade detected the transformation. He began to slide his hands toward the Shark, one after the other, his body upright, prepared to swing his legs at any hint of an attack.

Perplexed and thwarted, Tiger retreated toward the far end of the balance beam. He considered dropping the daggers and adopting a handstand himself, but he hadn’t practiced a handstand in years. None of his previous opponents had ever employed such a strategy.

Inexorably, Blade herded the Shark leader toward the far end of the beam.

“My compliments,” Tiger spoke up. “This is most unorthodox.”

Blade continued to slide toward the Shark leader.

“It seems I have underestimated you terribly,” Tiger said. “I won’t make this mistake again.”

Hand after hand, Blade drove the Shark toward his doom.

Tiger frowned as he backed up another step. This was getting him nowhere! He needed to do something, and to do it now! His own words rang in his mind: “You are permitted to do whatever is necessary to get past your opponent.”

Whatever was necessary.

Eight feet separated Tiger from the end of the beam.

Blade’s face was red, his veins protruding, his arm muscles rippling like living steel.

Tiger abruptly realized the chamber was hushed. Every eye was on him.

His followers sensed his demise was imminent.

He had to prove them wrong!

He had to show them who was the master!

Tiger grinned as he suddenly raised his daggers, reversing his grip on them, rotating them in his palms so he could grip the tips, so he could throw them.

Blade saw Tiger’s hands come up, saw the daggers beginning to swivel in Tiger’s palms, and he knew what Tiger was doing. The Shark leader was planning to hurl the daggers into his body!

No way!

Blade arched his superbly conditioned frame downward, sweeping his feet onto the balance beam and releasing his hands in one smooth flow. He came erect, taking a stride toward Tiger, closing his left hand into a compact fist and sending his fist into Tiger’s startled face with a speed belying his huge size.

Tiger was caught off guard. He saw Blade execute the flip, and he was crouching to defend himself when the Warrior’s calloused knuckles slammed into his nose, crushing the cartilage, flattening his nostrils. He reeled, dazed, striving to bring his daggers into play.

Blade delivered a devastating right uppercut on Tiger’s jaw.

Tiger felt his feet leave the balance beam. The entire world appeared to be moving in slow motion. He glimpsed the shocked faces of the Sharks, then the ceiling overhead, and then he was crashing to the floor and he felt like his body was being torn apart. The last sight he beheld was the giant on the balance beam, gazing down at him with an oddly sad countenance.

Why was the giant sad?

Blade’s mouth curled downward as he saw the spikes tearing into Tiger and spearing out his body. Blood gushed everywhere. One of the spikes tore through Tiger’s heart.

Tiger’s eyes glazed over and he died with a puzzled expression on his face.

The chamber was deathly still.

Blade forced himself to look away, to see how the Sharks were reacting to the death of their leader.

They were paralyzed. Some were gaping at Tiger’s body in manifest horror, while others were gawking at the giant on the balance beam in awe, astounded speechless.

Blade perceived he was still in danger, still on the balance beam with the spikes all around, unarmed in a chamber full of enemies. He decided to get off the beam and retrieve his Bowies.

Rikki-Tikki-Tavi was standing calmly, his bound wrists in front of him.

The twins exchanged nervous glances.

“He killed Tiger!” a woman abruptly wailed.

“The son of a bitch killed Tiger!” chimed in a male Shark.

There was a rustling among the crowd and audible mumbling. Several of the men moved toward the balance beam.

“Hold it!” Gar shouted, raising his right hand for silence. “Listen to me!”

The Sharks shifted their attention to the man with the white hair.

“Listen to me!” Gar reiterated. “We must think before we act!”

“What’s there to think about?” a man asked. “We should waste the scumbag!”

“No!” Gar yelled. “Think about this! Tiger took him on in a fair fight!

You all saw it! The giant should be allowed to live!”

“Live? Are you crazy?” someone rejoined.

“He won fair and square!” Gar declared. “He has earned his life!”

“The son of a bitch has earned a bullet in the brain!” a Shark responded angrily.

Arguments broke out. Some of the Sharks wanted to spare the giant; others wanted him dead.

Blade reached the far end of the balance beam. He stared at the spikes, pondering how best to dismount without being impaled.

Over a dozen Sharks, led by the burly man who had been in charge of the escort for Blade and Rikki, started to converge on the middle of the chamber, fingering their weapons.

“Wait!” Gar called out. “We must talk about this!”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Gar!” the burly man retorted. “We want his hide!”

“He should live!” Gar insisted. “He came here in peace!”

“Then he can leave here in pieces!” the burly Shark countered.

Blade glanced at the Sharks. Violence was on the verge of erupting and he was stranded on the end of the beam! He was about to try and drop between two of the spikes when tempers flared and bloodshed ensued.

Perched on the beam, he was compelled to witness everything from his vantage point.

The burly Shark and his companions suddenly roared and surged forward.

Gar blasted the burly Shark in the chest, the shotgun blowing the man’s torso apart.

Blade’s eyes narrowed. Rikki had told him a little about the twins, but nothing which would explain why they should side with him against their own kind.

Half a dozen Sharks closed on the twins and Rikki. One of them snapped off a shot from a revolver.

“Rikki!” Blade yelled in alarm, knowing his friend would be unable to fully use his martial arts skills because of the rope binding his wrists.

Or so Blade thought.

Rikki’s hands came up to his chest, the rope sliding to the floor, even as the woman, Fabiana, drew his katana.

Fab tossed the sword, hilt first.

Rikki-Tikki-Tavi caught the katana with his right hand and spun, a black streak as he slashed into the charging Sharks, his sword a gleaming blur. Two men and a woman fell in the blink of an eye.

Fabiana opened up with her shotgun, her shot striking a Shark in the forehead and exploding his cranium in a spray of brains and crimson.

Gar moved to his sister’s side, his shotgun booming.

For a moment the outcome was in doubt. Many of the Sharks were frantically endeavoring to remove themselves from the line of fire. Others wavered, uncertain which side to take.

Rikki decapitated a skinny man wielding an axe.

Fabiana fired into the face of a woman with a revolver at point-blank range.

Gar took down two Sharks with a single shattering shot.

More Sharks, though, were joining the fray against the trio. Close to two dozen were pouring toward the center of the chamber.

Rikki, Fabiana, and Gar were on the verge of being overwhelmed.

Blade prepared to jump, to go to their assistance.

But aid came from another quarter.

A woman near the entrance abruptly screamed, an ear-piercing shriek of deafening intensity. Her screech carried over the general din and was punctuated by an explosion from the corridor outside the chamber, bringing all conflict to an unceremonious halt as all eyes focused on the entrance. The Sharks nearest the doorway scurried to put as much space as they could between themselves and the source of the explosion.

The double doors were wide open, and whitish-gray smoke swirled into the chamber.

A man materialized out of the smoke, standing in the entrance, a big man in a dark-blue uniform, a man with silver hair and a silver mustache and blazing blue eyes. His uniform was covered with soot and splotched with blood. For a moment he was framed in the doorway as the smoke billowed about him, rearing grand and terrible in the flickering light of flames in the hallway to his left.

Somewhere, another woman screamed.

He raked the chamber with his gaze and spied his companions.

A second detonation rocked the building as he stalked into the chamber.

Stupidly, four of the Sharks endeavored to stop him.

He shot them with his Wilkinson, with a speed and accuracy uncanny in its lethal efficiency.

The rest of the Sharks wanted nothing to do with this dispenser of death and destruction. They hugged the walls, afraid to intimidate the man with the silhouette of a skull on his broad back.

Rikki-Tikki-Tavi was wiping his katana clean on the shirt of a dead Shark when Yama reached him. Rikki looked up, grinning. “About time you got here. What have you been doing, goofing off again?”

“Sorry. I had a hard time getting directions to this place,” Yama quipped.

Rikki smiled and placed his right hand on Yama’s left shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Never been better,” Yama stated. He nodded his head toward Blade, who was still poised on top of the balance beam. “What’s he doing?”

Blade mustered a sheepish grin.

Rikki smiled. “Blade is teaching us a new fighting art.”

Yama appeared perplexed. “A new fighting art? Is it related to karate or kung fu or jujitsu?”

“No,” Rikki answered.

“What is this art called?” Yama asked.

Rikki’s eyes twinkled as he solemnly responded. “It’s called the how-to-survive-a-battle-while-standing-on-a-beam-with-a-stupid-expressi on-on-your-face art.”

“Ahh. I see.” Yama nodded. “I hope he’ll teach it to me someday.”