A DANGEROUS GAME

How do I get myself into this shit? One minute I'm eating breakfast -- the next I'm running through the jungle, being chased by four super-freaks. God, I’m tired. This Jack of all Trades schtick is exhausting. And I don’t have any goddamn super-powers to help me, like the others. I'm going to kill Feldon when this is all over!

Pulling his metal helmet off, he flipped a few switches on a tiny control panel set into the inside of the faceplate. He put the helmet back on and squinted into the computer scanner superimposed on the eye viewer. Wiping the dampness from his hands, he focused the readout. Four tiny flickering blips illuminated on a computer-projected map. One of the blips was nearby, and approaching fast.

Loup Garou, right on cue. Better take him out quickly. The bastard can smell me. One of my standard surprise maneuvers should do the trick..

Switching off the computer readout, Jack knelt even closer to the muddy rocks and peered upstream, waiting. He slowly and silently pulled a weapon from a shoulder holster, and loaded a clip into its pommell.

After a moment the hunter, Loup Garou, came into view. Hunched over, his face was almost at ground level. His brown fur was dripping in the rain. Sniffing at the ground, he growled. He knew his quarry was near. The werewolf slowly scanned the surroundings, looking for Jack.



Slowly, stealthily, the wolf crept steadily toward Jack, until only the stream and the shadows separated them. Jack knew that the only thing saving him from being sensed by the wolf’s super-sensitive sense of smell was the pouring rain. He pressed himself further back into the crevasse, hoping the shadow would conceal him for a few moments more. Leveling his weapon at the feet of the werewolf, he waited...

Loup Garou crept out to the very edge of a rock protruding out over the stream. He searched the other side of the stream, sniffing the air. Another low growl escaped from his throat. He crouched down on the rock and peered intently at the shadow under the rocks across from him.

A bright flash of light pierced the grayness. The rock under the werewolf's feet exploded into a thousand tiny fragments, showering into the jungle in all directions. His footing vaporized, and Loup Garou fell awkwardly into the water below with a tremendous splash. Howling, the creature gasped and sputtered for breath as he tried to regain his footing.

Jack sprang from his hiding place. The stream was no impediment to him. In an instant he was upon the werewolf. A lightning kick to the head, then one to the midsection. Loup Garou reeled back and slammed into the shattered rocks behind him, the wind escaping from his lungs on impact. Pressing the attack, Jack followed, raining punch after punch into the staggered creature. His hands flew so fast they were invisible. Finally, the werewolf coughed a mournful howl and collapsed, blood trickling from his mouth and face onto the bank of the stream.

Putting his boot across the werewolf's throat, Jack opened one of the waterproof compartments on his belt. He pulled out a small metal device, like a round, shiny coin. The device had three tiny clasps on one side, and Jack clamped it firmly to the cloth of the tattered pants the creature wore. As Jack pressed the control on the other side of the device, the werewolf's form began to shimmer. He became translucent, and eventually disappeared entirely, with a strange humming sound. Only the impression of his body in the muddy ground remained.

Jack looked up to the heavens and sneered.

One down - three to go, Feldon.

A crackling bolt of lightning split the grim skies above the jungle.

The victor disappeared into the dense foliage, moving swiftly, yet silently.

Well, that eliminates the major threat to my ability to proceed undetected. Let's see what the three stooges are up to.

Crouching behind a thick tree trunk, he flipped the computer map back on. The remaining three blips were far away. Two were moving quickly, criscrossing the map in obvious and unimaginative search patterns. The other was stationary, near one end of the map.

Typical. Moe and Larry search, while Curly waits at the finish. This is going to be easier than I thought.

Quickly calculating the paths of the moving indicators, Jack moved to intercept the closest one. The dense foliage barely moved as his lithe form weaved in and out between the leaves and trunks.

Moments later, his helmeted head was pressed against a thick trunk, peering intently at the sky. Again, Jack was forced to wipe the rain from his eyes.

Feldon's a goddamn nuisance with this pissing rain!

The helmet scanner indicated that one of the blips was closing in on Jack's position, just as he had predicted. Quickly, he pulled his weapon from its holster. Flipping open another of the compartments on his belt, he slipped in another clip. He pushed until the weapon clicked, waiting as he concentrated on the incoming blip.

Suddenly, there it was, a streak of flame across the sky.


You know, sometimes those mutations make my skin crawl.

The streak of flame was Thermo, a mutated human with the paranormal ability to control temperatures around him. Jack had to admit that, even though he was a freak of genetics, Thermo was powerful. Even in the downpour, he had ignited the air around his own body, creating an aura of flame and a thermal updraft, and was using his power of flight to search for Jack. Jack knew that Thermo could create either flames or ice, but it was apparent that he had opted this time for the former. Jack couldn't help being momentarily impressed. It probably took a lot of concentration to keep flames lit in the rain. From the ground, the mutant looked like a shooting star with a vapor trail of flame and steam.

As Thermo passed quickly overhead, Jack rolled out of his hiding place and took aim at the receding fireball. He waited just an instant, then calmly squeezed the trigger. With a bright flash of light, the laser bolt sprang from the barrel of the gun.

It sounded like a bolt of lightning when the blast struck its target. The flame sputtered, and the flying figure lurched and tumbled in the sky, enveloped by a smoky haze. He fell, spinning and crashing down into the jungle below.

Jack sprang to his feet and rushed to finish the fallen foe. His thoughts raced faster than his feet.

Well, I’ve knocked him out of the sky, anyway. Better finish him fast. A wounded animal is the most deadly kind.

Jack couldn't see where the fireball had landed, but his scanner told him where to go. A second later the sound of a scream pierced through the beating rain as Thermo impacted with the ground, or a tree, or something nasty. Jack broke into a laugh as he dodged through thick foliage.

Breaking out of the dense underbrush, Jack almost lurched over the edge of a small cliff. Grabbing a tree branch, he managed to regain his footing, and step back from the edge. About forty feet below him, he could see a smouldering patch of ground next to a tree that looked like it had been hit by a buzz saw. Thermo was lying there, clutching his stomach. He was no longer aflame. The crash and the rain had obviously doused him, and he now looked quite like a soggy rodent. Grabbing a vine, Jack leapt from the precipice and swung toward the ground below, wasting no time in attempting to finish off his foe.

In mid-swing, a brick wall hit him.

Instantly, Jack was slammed against the rock face behind him. The vine snapped in his hands, and he began slipping down the cliff toward the rocks below. Dazed and breathless, he landed hard on a jagged rock. The jarring impact knocked his helmet from his head, and it clattered as it bounced further down the cliff. As Jack’s vision blurred with the pain, he could barely make out Thermo standing there at the bottom of the cliff. He picked up Jack’s helmet, laughing. The rock dug into Jack’s back. He was hurting.

Did anybody get the license number...?

A booming voice came from somewhere above. “As usual, Jack, you’ve underestimated us.”

Oh shit... Dreadnought.




Jack struggled to get up as Thermo slowly stepped toward him. As the world spun blurry around him, Jack managed to catch a glimpse of Dreadnought, his other assailant, hovering in the air above Thermo. Jack tried to focus on the shifting image. The second attacker was clad all in red, with a long black cape. He had long dark hair and a close cropped beard. His eyes were covered by dark sunglasses. Jack realized that it was this one -- Dreadnought -- who had ambushed him while he was moving in to finish Thermo. And by the looks of it, Thermo had been playing possum to lure him in. All effects of Jack’s laser shot seemed to have disappeared as Thermo approached menacingly. The one thing Jack hadn’t counted on was teamwork. It was so unlike these guys.

This is bad. Very bad.

Thermo stopped, placing his hands on his hips as Jack struggled to his feet. He stood about fifteen feet away. A crackle filled the air as flames again burst out around the mutant, who began to speak.

Give it up, Jack. We know you can best either one of us alone, but the moment you make a move for one of us, the other will take you out faster than you can say ‘Doctor Feldon.’ It’s over. -- You’ve lost. -- Face it.

Time seemed to stand still as Jack's mind analyzed the situation.

Thermo isn’t that far off. Maybe if I can...

The mutant stood directly in front of him, blocking Jack’s only means of egress from the rocky cliff bottom. Dreadnought hovered overhead, protecting Thermo's back. If he attacked Thermo, Dreadnought would be on him, and Jack didn’t think he could stand another attack from that direction. His legs were still tingling from the back-smasher he had just received. But if he made a move for Dreadnought, he knew Thermo would crisp him. And his head was still throbbing from the last attack.

Better try some of the fancy shit...

Jack took a step back and pressed himself against the rock face behind him. No one moved. The tension in the air crackled audibly, or it could have been the flames licking at Thermo’s body. Tentatively, Thermo took a step toward Jack.

Suddenly, in a blur of motion, Jack sprang forward. An instant too late, Dreadnought fired a searing bolt of energy from his bio-energy blasters. It struck the rocks where Jack had been standing. Jack was standing there no longer, now running headlong toward his other foe. Just before he collided with a stunned Thermo, Jack sprang onto a nearby rock and vaulted into the air with the grace of a gold-medal gymnast. His body twisted as he arced over Thermo and landed beyond him, right on stride, and continued the fluid motion into a run. As Thermo spun to face him, Jack skidded to a halt, only long enough to loft a concussion grenade (pulled from yet another belt pouch) over Thermo’s head, back toward the base of the cliff. Before Thermo could react, Jack spun and was running again, bolting for the treeline and cover from Dreadnought's blasts that by now were zeroing in on their target.

Three... two... one... Jack ticked the seconds off in his mind as he reached the relative safety of the jungle.

Thermo realized what had happened, only a beat too late. He gasped and tried to get away from the cliff, but ran out of time before he took three steps.

NOW!

As Dreadnought watched, aghast, the ground at the base of the cliff vaporized, and the area shook with the force of the grenade. Thermo was knocked sprawling by the powerful explosion, while Dreadnought reeled back through the air, propelled by the shock wave, impacting with a tree. A great cloud of rock and dust flew everywhere. The ground rumbled, and the rocks on the cliff face began sliding down, as if in slow motion.

In an instant, Thermo was buried beneath tons of falling slate.

As the dust cleared, Dreadnought regained his composure, and ascended once more into the sky above the jungle, searching for Jack.

"You've had it now, you little shit! Now I'm angry!!"

Suddenly, however, Dreadnought found himself falling out of the sky, his flight ring inoperative. He flapped his arms in a vain attempt to stay aloft.

What the ...? He was stunned as he slammed into the pile of rubble which had covered Thermo. The breath escaped his lungs as he tumbled and slid down the loose pile of slate, unable to gain his footing. As he rolled to a stop at the bottom of the mound, he coughed and looked up, only to find Jack standing over him.

Dreadnought slowly stood up and brushed himself off.

“Well, it looks like the shoe is on the other foot now, doesn’t it, Dreadnought old friend?” Jack was grinning. In his hand he held a tiny electromagnetic field generator. Fumes slowly rose from Dreadnought’s ears when he saw the device.

When will Dreadnought ever learn that his flight ring and force field generator belt aren’t worth much if they can be disabled with a little old magnetic field?

Jack didn’t move a muscle. Dreadnought stood there staring at him for a long time. Finally, the crimson-clad warrior rolled up his nonexistent sleeves and spoke:

“Allright Jack -- let’s do it.” With that, he sprang toward his opponent with fists flying.

As usual, Jack was just a step faster.

As the charging Dreadnought arrived, Jack deftly stepped to one side, allowing the oncoming foe to shoot right on by like a raging bull. As he passed, Jack came down swiftly with a surgically precise blow to the back of his neck. Dreadnought stumbled a few steps further, then collapsed on the ground and moved no more.

Casually, Jack switched off the miniature electromagnetic field generator and replaced it in one of the compartments on his utility belt. From another compartment he pulled out a second pin-device like the one he used to make Loup Garou disappear. He nonchalantly stepped over to Dreadnought’s limp form, and clamped the pin onto the fallen foe’s cape, which was now draped over him like a shroud. Jack depressed the device, and Dreadnought’s body shimmered and faded from view.

In an instant, Jack was gone, again running through the underbrush toward a point on his electronic map.

That’s three, Feldon. The battle is as good as over. There’s no way the last one can stop me alone.

The leaves barely rustled as he passed.

The red beacon light sat atop the aluminum pole, not really caring if Jack would make it there or not. The sharp bottom of the pole had been driven into the ground in the middle of a rather sizeable clearing. Standing next to the pole was a slender, muscular man, with a bored look on his face. He was wearing nothing more than loose-fitting white pants, and a black cloth belt to hold them up. His skin was black: an unearthly, somber black that reminded one of the vast emptiness of interstellar space. His eyes glowed crimson as they flashed around the clearing, waiting ... waiting.

Knight Watchman checked his chronometer/communicator again. It was one minute later than the last time. He wondered what was taking Jack so long.

Suddenly, as if he had been there all along, Jack was standing twenty feet away in the clearing. He looked at Knight Watchman and smiled.




Somehow I knew you’d be the one guarding the goal. You always are.

The black-skinned man responded with a grin. “Yeah, I know, but what fun would this be if I wasn’t?” As he spoke, he slowly melted into a fighting stance and moved to face Jack.

With the ease of one who had done it a thousand times before, Jack slipped his helmet of and put it gently on the ground. He bowed to the foe, and snapped into his own battle stance.

They circled for what seemed like an eternity, each looking for even the smallest opening.

Then the combat commenced. With moves so fast that no other human eye could follow, they spun in a deadly ballet. Thrust, parry, block, riposte, kick, throw, flip, spin, chop -- the moves passed quickly, and not without pain.

When the warriors finally spun apart for a moment, each was panting with the exhertion, and a tiny stream of blood trickled from the corner of Jack’s mouth.

“Ready to give it up, offworlder?” Jack managed another smile to go with the question.

Knight Watchman glared back through a puffy eye. “Not on your life, youngster!”

With that, Jack was upon his foe again. With a furious flurry, Jack pushed Knight Watchman back, step by step, until he was slowly creeping up on the edge of the clearing. He was totally defensive, merely parrying Jack’s lightning blows. The red glow of his eyes grew brighter with his exhertion.

Finally -- an instant of distraction, the tinyest miscalculation -- and Jack’s fist contacted squarely with the solar plexus of his foe. Knight Watchman doubled over in pain, as stars danced before his fiery eyes. Jack siezed the opportunity, and came down with both fists on the back of the alien’s neck, driving him to the ground. The black-skinned warrior collapsed onto the green grass, and moved no more.

Poor bastard. You really gave me a fight that time. But the outcome was never in question.

Jack knelt over the limp form and connected yet another of the pin-like devices. In an instant, the black warrior had disappeared. Jack wiped the blood from his face with the heel of his hand and headed back to retrieve his helmet and end the battle by siezing the beacon.

Suddenly, he stumbled and fell to the ground. His foot was stuck on something. It felt cold. Very cold.

He tried to pull free, but found that his boot was frozen to the ground. He knew in an instant what had happened, and he frantically searched the treeline at the edge of the clearing for some sign of the mutant assailant.

Thermo! Goddamn it! I should’ve sifted through the rubble after the avalanche and finished off that pinhead. Now he’s actually tracked me down! Shit!



Calmly, Jack surveyed the situation as ice began forming on his legs. That the rain had soaked his clothing wasn’t helping matters any.

That mutated bastard. He can’t charge me - he knows he’s no match for me in hand-to-hand combat. He’s got to stay in the trees and try to attack me with ice from afar.

Quickly, Jack unsnapped the fasteners and slipped his foot out of the frozen boot. He scrambled to his feet and lurched forward, his clothing crackling and snapping as he went. The situation was getting serious. He knew he had only a few seconds to sieze the beacon and win the battle before he would be frozen solid. Lurching forward, he grabbed his helmet and dove for the beacon. His mind exploded with rage when his hand only made contact with the solid dome of ice that covered the prize.

Jack slammed the helmet back on his head and pressed the button to reacivate the mapping function. As he did, he unsheathed his weapon one more time. His feet were already frozen to the ground again, and he could feel the deadly cold rising up his legs.

I hope Thermo’s as stupid and careless as he usually is. If not, I could be a goner here.

Sure enough, the viewfinder of Jack’s helmet lit up like a christmas tree, indicating his foe’s position just outside the clearing, amid the safety of the thick underbrush. Jack’s weapon instantly coughed to life, spurting a barrage of bright laser fire at the hidden opponent. Leaves and bark flew as energy impacted violently with the jungle’s dense foliage. When the charge-pack on the blaster died, Jack switched to his grenade-launcher, and pumped again and again until he was knocked backwards, shaken free of his icy restraint by the force of the concussion grenade blasts.

And then there was silence. The rain finally stopped. Jack picked himself up off the ground and looked over at the smoke rising from the jungle where his blasts and grenades had landed, even as the last echoes of the attack returned to Jack’s ears. Walking slowly, he headed over to see what damage he had wrought.

He only found the limp form of his foe after searching through the mounds of dirt, wood, and leaves scattered all around by the violence of the grenade impacts. Trapped beneath a mound of earth, and a great tree branch fallen from somewhere, the mutant lay there, bloody and unconscious, his brightly colored uniform tattered and in ruin. Jack smiled as he caught sight of the communicator/sensor still strapped to Thermo’s wrist. It was the communicator that his helmet scanner had been able to lock onto, and that gave away Thermo’s position when he was hiding in the trees.

If only he’d thrown the damn thing away like I did, the poor bastard might have won. Oh well, superior intellect will defeat superior powers wielded by idiots.

Jack couldn’t help but chuckle as he clasped a pin device onto the tattered remnants of Thermo’s costume and activated it. He turned and walked away as the mutant’s body shimmered and faded into oblivion.

Jack stepped back out into the clearing and went over to the ice-dome that covered the finish beacon. He sat down on the ice and smiled.

Looking up at the clearing sky, Jack shouted in defiance. “Your boys couldn’t do it, Feldon! I’ve won again! When are you going to admit that there is just no match for me?” He stood up and pulled the helmet off, laughing as he wiped the sweat and rain from his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, the jungle was gone. So was the sky and the clearing, and the ice dome. Jack was standing in the imaging chamber again, staring at its titanium walls. He shook his head and rubbed his ribs, still sore from where Dreadnought had slammed him into the rocks.

A door opened in one of the titanium walls, and a gaunt man holding a clipboard and wearing a blue suit walked in. He stared at Jack through aged eyes and thick glasses, which sat under a bald head, and above a hawk-like nose and thin mustache. His footsteps echoed around in the metal chamber.

“Well, Jack, I can only categorize your performance this time as poor. You made two mistakes that would have been fatal if your enemies had not been even more inept than you.” He shot a glance back toward the door. “- But they have already been debriefed.”

Jack frowned. “But Doc, I won again! Doesn’t that count for something?”

Doctor Feldon looked up from the clipboard and laughed. “Not much, Jack, at least not if you intend to fight any real supervillains as your alter ego, Jack of All Trades...” The old man motioned vaguely back toward the door. “The others all have paranormal abilities to fall back on, to protect them and to save them from their own mistakes. But you don’t -- I have to expect more from you. If you are going to be part of this team -- this Alert Force -- we’re building, you have to be perfect.” He turned and headed for the door, shouting as he went.

“All right boys -- enough rest! Let’s go again!”

Dreadnought, Thermo, Loup Garou, and Knight Watchman filed back into the imaging chamber, each looking down in the mouth. Losing four straight exercises to the upstart rookie had done little to boost their morale. Each sighed as he passed the Doctor. Feldon was still making marks on his clipboard when he stopped at the door and turned back toward the group.

“And this time, let’s put some effort in it, huh?"

Jack jammed his helmet back on his head as the room shimmered again, this time changing into an urban setting. He took off running. A thirty-second head start was not that long.

How the hell do I get myself into these situations...?