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Issue #5 March 2010	“An Upwind Stench” Written By Brent Lambert

Bullet Biker turned around a corner to find four men with assault rifles staring right at him.  Before he had time to erect his force field, they opened fire and began to litter him with bullets.  The bullets tore into his bike, but luckily not through him.  His blue, red, and yellow biker suit had a low power force field that was on at all times.  It was easily able to deflect the bullets being hurled at him.  Pushing himself off of his bike, he let it crash into the four men, but as he fell he activated one of the bike’s defense systems. 

Before the bike crashed into the men, dozens of high-speed metal ball bearings came spewing out of the motorcycle ripping into the men and turning them into Swiss cheese.  As the men screamed their last, Zarro rolled to his feet and ran to check on the damage done to his bike.  

“Whew that was close,” Zarro mumbled to himself as he saw that nothing vital had been hint.  The biggest evidence of damage was that his paint job was screwed.  With the money he was going to be getting from Dr. Black it would be more than enough to fix it.

He was only a floor away from the laser and he had no intention of failing.  The idea of a few more zeros being added into his bank account salivated his thoughts.  Soon he would be a very rich man and far away from this desert wasteland sipping on margaritas surrounded by beautiful women. 

Just one more floor away.

Jason and Billy’s bikes came to a screeching halt in front of the complex.  Crane’s gunships were circling the building and Jason found himself a little in awe at the firepower his best friend had at his command.   As their bike tops pulled back to reveal their encapsulated bodies, Jason stood up and asked, “How many of those babies do you have?”

Billy gave one of those arrogant smiles he always gave when he knew he had impressed someone.  “Enough to take over Phoenix if I wanted.  Of course, then I’d have SHIELD on my ass and I don’t have anything that could handle their full hammer coming down on me.”

“Still man, its a lot of shit,” American Eagle said suddenly very happy he had Billy backing him up.   Billy had always supplied weapons and vehicles to him, but he never had a real understanding of just how much inventory that the man had.  Seeing the dozen gunships and the large complex in the middle of nowhere, Jason was starting to get a good idea.  “So did your boys give you a status report?”

“Apparently, the attacker is one floor away from the laser.  I have a lot of men posted outside of the door, but this guy has proven to be pretty effective at taking out my men thus far.  We need to get there before he does.”

The answer seemed to be a simple one for Jason.  “Ok well the idiot is running around the building in his bike.  We can just take the elevator and beat him to the punch.”

“Elevators weren’t in the floor plans.”

Cutting his eyes at his friend, he said, “Who the hell doesn’t build elevators in secret little bases?”

He never heard the answer to his question as the roar of a gunship descending down upon them made enough noise to drown out Billy.  Crane simply pointed at the vessel and American Eagle knew he was suppose to hop on.  It wasn’t close enough to the ground for any normal person to actually get on, but Jason already knew Billy’s drift.  He walked over to his best friend, grabbed him around the waist, and leapt into the air landing right in the gunship.

“Was hoping you would get the hint,” Billy said as he was let go.

“So I take it that this is part of your plan?” American Eagle asked.  He wasn’t sure what angle his friend was working, but he was willing to let him take the lead.  After all, this was his facility being attacked.

“Of course it is.  We’re going to get up close and personal and then do a lil cannonball surprise.  My men should be able to hold our attacker off until then.”

“You better hope so.  Cuz otherwise I don’t think Christos will be getting any new shoes for a while.”

“Just love the optimism there buddy.”

Minneapolis, MN

Whitecrow brought the disoriented Patriarch into his room and sat him down on the bed that was probably in need of a more thorough cleaning than the maids provided.  He looked the man in the eyes.  “Do you remember who you are?”

The man stumbled to answer.  “I think.  I’m not sure.  Can you tell me?”

“You are Patriarch, one of The Blood.”

Patriarch put a hand to his forehead as if a giant headache was about to crash on him like a wave.  “Please.  Tell me more.”

Whitecrow honestly wasn’t sure how much the man was ready for, but time wasn’t a luxury that he had.  Jericho knew that The Shaman Society was hunting him down even now.  His time was drawing short and he needed Patriarch back to full speed if his chances for survival were going to increase.  The things that Patriarch could offer him would make him more than able to fight the power of The Shaman Society.

“The Blood was formed in the time before Atlantis.  They were a group dedicated to battling a powerful demon called Zatharos, the demon that today is now part of the creature known as Ghost Rider.  Your people made it their mission to keep Zatharos from destroying the world and you were part of that group that initially succeeded in that effort.”

The man shook his head.  “Before Atlantis…how long ago was that?”

“My friend you are easily over twenty thousand years old,” Jericho said.

His revelation caused the man to pass out.  Patriarch’s body fell into Jericho’s arms and all he could do was sigh.  This was going to be a long process.  That much was obvious, but he was determined that The Patriarch of old would be the one to walk out of this hotel. 

Jericho knew that he didn’t have time to wait for the unconscious Patriarch to pull himself together. Reaching inside of his jacket pocket, he pulled out a bag of brown dust.  Employing a bit of TLC, the shaman poured the dust in his palm.  Making sure not a drop of it fell from his hand; Jericho moved his palm over Patriarch’s head.  Closing his eyes, Jericho said, “Great Spirit open this man’s eyes and give him the strength to endure revelations big and small.”

The shaman dropped the dust onto Patriarch’s face.  He began to cough and rose up from the bed smacking dust from his face.  Looking like a man just finding his way out of the wild, he stared at Whitecrow and said, “What happened?”

“I used a tiny spell to prompt you to wake up.  We still have much to talk about.”

“Like me being twenty thousand years old?”

“That’s really one of the smaller details.”

“Smaller?  I’m almost scared to ask what the big ones are.”

“You say that, but I can tell that a part of you is curious.  Give in to that.  I can tell you what you want to know.”

Patriarch hesitated because while he was curious there was a part of him that was scared to see where that curiosity would take him.  He felt like it was the first step on a dark road, but the man was right.  He did want to know.

“How did I die?” Patriarch asked feeling the weight of the question.  How many men could ever seriously ask such a thing?

“You died by a sword.  Its deliverer was a vampire slayer by the name of Blade.”

Patriarch’s breathing became heavier and the muscles on his face quivered as memory struck him.  “Justicar.  He killed me with Justicar.”

“Because of your new alliance with Zatharos.”

“Zatharos…yes that’s why.  The bastard!  I will have his head.”

“In time my friend, but there are other matters that we will need to address first.”

The ageless man’s hand reached out and wrapped around an unsuspecting Jericho’s throat.  “No little mortal.  My vengeance comes first!”

Whitecrow might have smiled if the life wasn’t being choked out of him.  It seemed the Patriarch of old was back and Jeremiah had achieved his goal.  Now he just had to get out of the man’s vise grip.  He managed to utter, “Let go.”

Patriarch released the shaman without hesitation and looked down at his hand.  ‘I didn’t want to do that.  What have you done to me?”

“Just a little something to ensure your obedience,” Whitecrow said as eh fought back a fit of coughing.  He knew drinking anything was going to be a bitch.

“What do you want?  Who are you?”

“I want my enemies destroyed.  You help me with that and I will free you to pursue whatever revenge you want.”

Aami stood in her underwear with her high heels on surrounded by five men.  Only one of them wasn’t gawking at her for obvious reasons.  She had no intention of being just mere eye candy.  Four of the five men were here to put her six feet under, but she had no desire to meet the undertaker today.  She cursed them for their inconvenient timing because now Christos would have all the confirmation he needed.  That was dependent on if either of them walked away from this alive.

Staring at the chilly, hooded warrior she said, “The North Wind I presume.”

The hooded assassin nodded and charged at Aami.  He thrust his icy sword forward attempting to gut her straight through her chest, but Aami leapt right above the blow.  She kicked her leg out and stuck The North Wind in the face with her heel.  Given the fact she was wearing stilettos she fully expected to rip through flesh, but when she pulled her heel back it was only covered in ice.  Landing on her feet, Aami was thrown flat on her back by her frozen heel cracking into pieces.

Damn it, Aami thought as she kicked off her other heel and back flipped away from The North Wind’s crashing sword.  The ground it struck turned to ice and gave off the same winter smoke that The North Wind’s body did.  It was becoming clear to Aami that she was going to have to not touch him.  She was already outnumbered the last thing she needed was an opponent that she couldn’t touch.  If she got out of this she had a dozen different ways that she was going to kick Jason’s ass.

Stepping away from The North Wind exposed her back to The West Wind.  Brushing his long white hair out of his face, he pointed one of his arms at her and unleashed a localized cyclone at her.  Napkins, forks, and tables were tossed to the side as the air tore its way towards Aami.

“Watch out!” Christos said as he pushed Aami to the ground and was struck by The West Wind’s gale.  He was lifted into the air and flung clear across the restaurant like a rag doll.  Carried by the gale wind, he crashed through the swinging metal door that served as the entrance to the restaurant’s kitchen.

Aami jumped to her feet and her eyes were glowing lime.  Veins of the same color pulsated across her body.  “Bastards!  I promise you will pay for that!”

Leaping to her left, The East Wind flung his star daggers at Aami.  To his surprise, she caught all four of them and threw them back at him.  The assassin leapt into the air, spun himself to his side, and avoided the attack by his own weapons.  He had expected this fight to go easily, but apparently Mother Matrix really had understated the potency of her creation.

As soon as Aami had let loose The East Wind’s star daggers, The North Wind charged forward and struck Aami across the back.  His sword had seared its way across her flesh and cleaved her spine.  Crashing to the ground, Aami was unable to feel the lower half of her body.  She was bleeding profusely and her body was shaking like it had been dunked in subzero waters.

“Finish it North Wind!” West Wind commanded.  It wouldn’t be long before local authorities would arrive.  They didn’t need that kind of coverage.

Raising his sword into the air, The North Wind was about to strike when a man-sized fireball struck him and sent him crashing into The West Wind.  Their entangled, singed bodies rolled across the linoleum floor an cracked the revolving door entrance.  Standing at the kitchen entrance with a smoking hand was a bloodied Christos.  His clothes were tattered, but that smug smile wasn’t.

“Won’t be having any of that today fellows.”

The South Wind charged at Christos despite The East Wind’s protestations.  “Wait!  We need to get out of here!  Police are coming!”

Sirens could be heard from afar, but The South Wind didn’t care.  No one attacked his teammates and walked away with everything attached.  He wasn’t going to let some lil fancy, prancy boy tag them and not be properly thanked for it.  Running with his sword to his side, he charged at Christos, every square inch of his face outlined with rage.  He was gong to savor this man’s last expressions as his word dug into this heart.

Christos, for his part, didn’t appear the least bit scared by the charging South Wind.  He simply pursed his lips together and blew out the smallest of breaths.  The South Wind was struck by a terrible gust that sent him flying clear across the restaurant and crashing not too far away from The North Wind and South Wind.  They were just starting to get up from Christos’ first attack.

“You bastards aren’t the only ones who can throw some wind around.”

The East Wind looked back at his partners and cut his eyes at Christos.  “This isn’t over.  We’ll kill you free of charge.”

“Look forward to it.  We’ll make it a date.”

Walking over to the fallen Aami, Christos winced at the wound inflicted by The North Wind.  Miraculously, her body was stitching itself together like two busy hands working on a quilt.  She would survive and when she woke up the two of them were going to have a long talk.  He knew he was right.  When someone kept secrets it was easy to pick out another person doing the same thing.

“This might hurt a bit,” Christos said as he knelt down and wrapped her arm across his neck.  He stood up and Aami gave a sharp moan.  “Sorry.  Sorry.  I know that hurts, but we got to get out of here.”

The last thing he wanted to have to deal with was the authorities.  Billy would end up finding out and then there would be hell to pay.  He could just imagine the grilling his boyfriend was going to give him in such a situation.  A fight with those four killers would have been a preferred option over that.  Either way he would have been looking at being skewered.

He dragged Aami to the back of the restaurant where his limo was waiting for them.  The driver looked at him worried, but Christos quickly shook his head.  The driver just nodded and Christos knew that no questions would be asked.   The people that worked under Billy were discreet so he knew that nothing about this incident would be said.  He was honestly surprised the man had just waited outside while people were screaming and running out of the building.  Part of him wanted to ask about that, but he didn’t have time.  Aami needed to be attended to.

He could only wonder the story he would hear once she was better. 

Author’s Notes

Ok so the mystery got kicked up a little bit this issue.  Things are definitely building up on the horizon.  Trust that this is far from the last of The Four Winds.   And I have big things on the horizon for Patriarch and Jeremiah Whitecrow.  Remember the name Justicar.  So stick around.  The fun’s just started.

-Brent

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