"Yeah. Him." Grizzly trembled for a moment. "So what do we do now?"

  Grizzly swallowed, his heart thumping loud enough to be heard for miles, his blood pulsing violently through his veins. He inhaled Athena's sweet fragrance, which was finer than any bouquet of flowers or the best perfume, and suddenly felt very, very hot, as if the temperature had risen 20 degrees. Staring into her eager, loving, moist eyes, he answered as his emotions dictated in full awareness of the consequences. "What do you think?" She melted into his arms and their lips fused in a fiery welding of mutual passion.

  Of all the stone edifices in Mesaville, only one reared ten stories into the air. Of all the homes lived in by the roguish inhabitants, only one had 30 rooms, a swimming pool fed by warm spring water, and a huge terrace that had been heaped high with dirt so flowers and trees could grow in profusion. The plants were nurtured by a staff of six who were as devoted to them as if their very lives depended on maintaining a flourishing garden, and they did.

  On this terrace stood the lord of Mesaville with his hands clasped behind his back. The scowl on his face accurately depicted his turbulent state of mind, and the gleam of hatred in his eyes reflected the state of his inner being. Surrounded by beautiful blossoms and shrubs, he cared not. He stalked to the railing at the end of the terrace and gazed down at the lovely woman swimming naked in the pool, and instead of being cheered by her vixenish figure his scowl deepened.

  "Death Master!" she said happily in greeting when she spotted him.

  "Is this all you have to do all day? Swim?"

  His tone sliced through her like a red hot knife, and she quickly swam to the side and climbed out. Her soaking raven tresses hung to the small of her arched back. She absently wiped beads of water from her pert breasts, then strolled nonchalantly up broad stone steps to the terrace, as unconscious of her nudity as the flowers of their delicate symmetry. "What has you so bent out of shape?"

  "Morons," Death Master replied vehemently.

  "Morons in general or specific ones?" she asked, halting beside him and placing her damp hand on his arm.

  "Slasher, Blackjack, and Garo."

  "What did they do now?"

  "They're dead, Lolita."

  "And you're upset?"

  Death Master tilted his neck and stared at the vaulted ceiling of the cavern far, far overhead. "I gave them a job to do, a simple job any imbecile could have performed, and they botched it."

  "What was this job?"

  "I instructed them to terminate three potential troublemakers. Instead, they got themselves terminated."

  Lolita smiled and ran her fingernails up to his broad shoulder. "Who would dare give you trouble?"

  "Blade."

  "Who?"

  He looked down at her and involuntarily felt a stirring in his loins. "Blade. Surely you've heard of the famous head of the Freedom Force?"

  "The what?"

  Resignation replaced the anger etching Death Master's visage. "How can one who possesses such beauty be such an airhead?"

  Lolita lowered her arm and pouted. "There's no need to be insulting."

  "I meant it affectionately," Death Master said and placed his left palm on her stomach.

  "So what's the deal with this Blade guy?"

  "From what I hear he's every bit my equal."

  "Impossible."

  Death Master smiled in appreciation and leaned down to kiss her on the neck. "I could have had him shot the moment I realized who he was, but I didn't."

  "Why not?"

  He kissed her on the ear. "Curiosity, my dear. I wanted to know the reason he came to Mesaville. I flattered myself that he was here to assassinate me, but then I learned differently."

  "What did you learn?" Lolita asked, as Death Master's hand started to work its way lower.

  "Apparently Grizzly and he are old friends."

  "You're kidding?"

  "No. And that's not all. Some of the customers at the Club Royale overheard an interesting conversation. The impression they received was the Grizzly and the woman accompanying Blade were once very tight."

  "Grizzly and a human? How kinky. Just like us. I love it."

  "I thought you would," Death Master said huskily, staring down at his hand. "Evidently Blade and this woman, Athena is her name, came here specifically in search of Grizzly. There's another man with them, a military type named Mike. Regrettably, all four of them must now be terminated."

  "What harm can they do? Why not just let them leave in peace?"

  "Because I run the risk of Blade returning with the rest of the Freedom Force or any army contingent to wipe us out. The Federation might be inclined to view us as a threat." Death Master let his hand drift across her thigh.

  "Oh!"

  "I'd like to simply toss him to my pets, but I don't have concrete evidence to convince our other visitors that Blade is who I think he is. Without it, some may suspect me of treachery. And never, under any circumstances, must the gangs receive the impression I'm not to be trusted. Follow me?"

  "Oh!"

  "Since Slasher and his two cretinous friends have failed, I've decided to try another tact. How does Cobra sound to you?"

  "Oh! Oh! Oh!"

  "I thought so," Death Master said, as he grinned and embraced her.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  What was that?

  Captain Havoc was seated on a chair on the balcony, his M-16 lying in his lap, when he heard a faint scraping noise from somewhere below. Somewhere nearby. He stood and stepped to the waist-high stone rail and peered down at the deserted avenue. When last he checked his watch, five minutes earlier, the time had been four a.m.

  An unnerving silence shrouded the subterranean city.

  Havoc scanned the shadows in all directions but saw nothing to rouse his suspicion. The lights downstairs were out, which meant Eric must be asleep. He returned to the chair, thinking of his friends inside. Blade had pulled the first shift on guard duty and was now slumbering in the bedroom to the right of the living room. In the other bedroom were Athena and Grizzly; she'd pulled the second shift and awakened him at three to do his.

  How could they? Havoc wondered, looking toward the room Athena and Grizzly shared. He tried to imagine what it would be like to make love to a hybrid. The very idea was repugnant. Give him a wholesome human any day.

  Again something scraped below.

  He rose slowly and moved stealthily to the top of the steps. No one was there. Puzzled, he walked the full length of the balcony and back again. Something was wrong; of that he felt certain. But what?

  From off in the distance came a boisterous cackle.

  Someone must still be partying. Havoc shook his head and leaned on the railing. He thought he'd seen it all in his time: strip joints, drug dens, topless bars, houses of prostitution. None of it compared to Mesaville, the mecca for vice and lust in the Southwest. The city was an abomination, its transient inhabitants diametrically opposed to every moral and ethical principle known to civilized man.

  Too bad the rest of the team isn't with us, Havoc mused. If Raphaela, Jag, Doc, Sparrow Hawk, and Lobo were there the Force could put a permanent stop to the vile operation. He knew Blade intended to try anyway, which seemed impossible, given the odds. But if there was one thing he'd learned about the Warrior—and he knew there was much he didn't know, it was never to underestimate the giant.

  All of which brought to mind the questions that would not be answered until they were back in Los Angeles. Would Blade permit him to remain on the Force? Would the Warrior press formal charges? Given the circumstances a court martial was a distinct possibility. And even if Blade let his betrayal and disobedience ride, what about General Gallagher? He'd betrayed one of the most powerful men in the Free State of California, a man not noted for his compassion. What sort of revenge would Gallagher take on having turned against him?

  Havoc decided he would face whatever came along with his head held high. He'd screwed up grandly, yes, and now he should own up to his stupidity and take his punishment like a man. He stretched, glanced idly at the steps, and froze in consternation.

  Someone, or more accurately some thing, stood at the top of the stairs regarding him with an amused smirk.

  Flabbergasted, Havoc hesitated, noting the creature's reptilian features. It resembled a walking snake: the body was no thicker than a telephone pole and covered with black scales; the legs were long and thin, the arms the same; and a cowl-shaped head perched on a ribbon-thin neck that barely seemed adequate to support its weight. Although the body was entirely black, the eyes glowed with a pale luminescence and slanted upward from the narrow nostrils toward the bald plate. Needle-like teeth were revealed when it grinned, although it sported a pair of two-inch fangs on either side of its slit mouth. The only article of clothing the creature wore was a black loincloth.

  A hybrid, Havoc realized, and desperately attempted to bring his M-16 into play even as he opened his mouth to shout a warning to his friends.

  In an inhuman display of dazzling speed the creature flowed across the balcony and leaped, pouncing on the officer and sinking its wicked fangs into his soft throat. In the blink of an eye it backed away, its mouth curving in the sinister smirk.

  Havoc felt no pain. He was utterly bewildered. Although he wanted to yell, he couldn't. His vocal chords wouldn't function. Neither would his arms or legs. A terrifying numbness radiated outward from the puncture wounds in his neck with startling rapidity. His heart hammered crazily. Both legs began to buckle.

  A toxin! The snake-man had injected poison into his system!

  Havoc looked at his adversary and saw certain death in the hybrid's eyes. Fear swelled within him. In moments he would be dead, hurled unprepared into the void beyond this earthly existence. What should he do? Pray for the deliverance of his soul? He'd never been overly religious, and now it was too late to ponder matters of eternal importance. A phantom cloud nipped at his consciousness and he knew the end was near.

  Funny.

  He'd envisioned being killed in a variety of ways—it came with the job. But never in his wildest dreams had he thought he would be taken out by a humanoid snake. What was it? Part cobra? Did it even matter?

  No.

  Suddenly his brother's face floated in the air before him, and he longed to cry out, "Jimmy!" At last he would get to see his brother again. They'd always been the closest of all the Havoc clan, although his younger brother Stephan came in a tight second. Seeing Jimmy again might make dying worthwhile.

  Provided there as an afterlife.

  Provided he possessed whatever trait was required to make the passage to the far shore.

  And provided, in the ultimate analysis, some form of Supreme Spirit existed.

  Then, at the instant the cloud swept him into the great beyond, in the fraction of a millisecond before his body slumped lifeless and inert, he perceived the truth and felt his soul soar.

  The hybrid stepped forward and nudged the corpse with his foot, perplexed by the smile on the human's face. Not one of his many victims had ever smiled at the moment of dying and he was mystified. Contemplation of the mystery was shelved for the time being so his assignment could be carried out.

  One down, three to go.

  Pivoting, the creature crept to the doorway and paused to sniff the air and strain its circular ears for sounds. He heard someone snoring off to the right and low breathing to the left. One must be the giant, the other the woman.

  He took several strides into the darkened living room, his tongue flicking out repeatedly, and abruptly halted when he detected a familiar scent lingering in the air. As Death Master had informed him would be the case, Grizzly had been there. But was the bear-man still there? The creature couldn't tell and that worried him.

  Grizzly shouldn't be taken lightly.

  When Death Master had instructed him to make the kill, he'd almost refused. He knew Grizzly too well, knew the inherent ferocity and uncanny ability of his fellow hybrid, and he didn't know for certain if he would prevail in a contest between them. But then that constituted the appeal. Grizzly was the supreme challenge, a foe worthy of his own unique talents. Slaying helpless humans in the arena had become a boring charade; no worthy opponents had fought him in ages.

  The snake-man moved tentatively toward the bedroom on the right. The snorer must be the giant. A quick bite and all he would have to worry about was Grizzly, since the woman constituted no threat whatsoever. At the threshold he paused, his keen senses probing the room, distinguishing the outline of a huge body on the bed. He lifted his right foot to glide within when a barely audible whisper startled him.

  "Cobra."

  He spun and hissed, more in anger at himself for being so careless than in anything else. "Grizzly," he said softly. Awakening the giant would be foolish. One adversary at a time was enough.

  The bear-man glanced at the entrance, his eyes narrowing when he spied the form slumped on the balcony. "You killed Havoc, you son of a bitch."

  "And you're next."

  Grizzly looked at him. "Don't flatter yourself."

  "First you, then the big jerk and the woman."

  "You'll never lay a fang on her."

  Cobra cocked his head and snickered. "Why Grizzly, old chum, is that a note of affection I detect in your voice?"

  "Up yours."

  "I do believe it is. Odd. I never thought you were very fond of humans."

  "I'm less fond of hybrids who are traitors to their entire kind."

  "What in the world are you babbling about?" Cobra asked, inching slowly forward. Stall, he told himself. Keep the fool talking until he was within striking range. Once his fangs injected the poison, Grizzly was history.

  "I'm talking about you and me, sucker. We sold out. We let our animal heritages get the better of us."

  "I like my animal half," Cobra said.

  "And do you like being Death Master's flunky?"

  "Why shouldn't I? He pays well. I get three squares a day and all the whores I care to bed, even if they are human trash. And all I have to do is waste a few bozos now and then."

  "Your wasting days are at an end." Grizzly crouched and his hands came up, his fingers stiffening. Out slid his ten claws, the reason no one in Mesaville would tangle with him no matter what the provocation.

  Cobra knew all about those retractable claws. They'd been designed in a laboratory and genetically encoded into the bear-man's physique when Grizzly was still an embryo in a test tube, all part of a scientist's plan to produce the perfect genetically engineered assassin. Housed in internal sheaths behind Grizzly's huge knuckles, they automatically slid out from under the flaps of skin above his fingernails whenever the bear-man locked his digits at full extension. They could slice through flesh and bone as effortlessly as a sword through a melon; they could even cut through wood. Only two limitations restricted their use. First, they would break if he tried to hack through metal. Second, Grizzly couldn't grip a thing so long as the claws were out. To use his fingers he must relax his entire hand.

  A different scientist had created Cobra, but his abilities were no less lethal. He possessed all the attributes of a true cobra: speed, power, heightened physical senses, and above all the same deadly venom. But unlike true cobras, which either administered their venom through bites or by spitting at an enemy's eyes, he could do both, a fact which only one other person in Mesaville knew. And Death Master wasn't about to tell anyone.

  Now Cobra moved slowly toward the bear-man, trying to get close enough to make his move. "Did you know your friend Blade is the head of the Freedom Force?" he asked to distract his foe.

  "Of course. I was on the Force once."

  Cobra stopped in surprise. "You were? Death Master will be interested in the news. He'd heard about your buddy from various gang members who regularly raid southern and western California, but they must not have mentioned you."

  "I wasn't on the Force long enough to be as famous as Blade," Grizzly said idly, still keeping his voice down so as not to wake up Athena. He didn't want her blundering in during the impending fight; he couldn't properly defend himself and simultaneously protect her.

  "So why did you come here? As a spy for the California authorities?"

  "No."

  "Why don't I believe you?"

  "I don't give a damn what you believe."

  "Death Master will feed your carcass to his pets after I'm done," Cobra said, easing ever forward. He couldn't believe how easy this was. Apparently he'd vastly overrated Grizzly's prowess.

  "There's something I'd like to know."

  "What?"

  "Who is responsible for engineering you?"

  Again Cobra paused for a second. "What a strange question," he commented, and continued ever-so-gradually narrowing the gap. Soon. It would be soon.

  "I'm curious, is all. The Doktor created me and hundreds of other mutations. I didn't know all of them personally, but I saw all of them at one time or another. I remember several snake-men but none exactly like you. So I figure someone other than the Doktor is responsible for your existence."

  "How clever of you."

  "Am I right?"

  "Yes."

  "Then who?"

  Cobra saw no reason not to divulge the information. In a few moments Grizzly would be dead. And the conversation was enabling him to draw ever nearer. What a chump this bear-man was! "The scientist who created me is named Dr. George Herbert Wells."

  "Is? You mean he's still alive?"

  "Yes, and producing many more hybrids all the time."

  "Where is his laboratory?"

  "Guess," Cobra said. He was now six feet away. Perfect.

  "Did he breed you to be an assassin like the Doktor did with me?"

  "You ask too many questions," Cobra said, then abruptly tilted his head back, opened his mouth, and let his venom fly straight into Grizzly's eyes.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The jet of poison arced through the air in a twinkling, and had Grizzly been a human his eyes would have been seared and permanently blinded, leaving him virtually incapable of warding off Cobra's attack. But his bearish reflexes served him in good stead. The instant he realized Cobra's trick and saw the acidic toxin streaming at his face he darted to the right, and so quick was the coordination between his brain and his muscles that he was a full stride away when the poison passed through, the space he'd just occupied.

 

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