Highway To Armageddon (15 page)

           
I flip back over to Mikhail. I’ve always found him to be an enigmatic figure.
First of all, he looks like a dwarf from some fantasy novel. He can’t be more
than five feet tall, and he’s quite chubby. His long, greasy hair and beard
don’t help his cause. I’m also intrigued by his obsession with black magic.

           
Mikhail can always be seen (on the rare occasion that he is seen) wearing a
weird, mechanized purple outfit with a cloak and cape billowing behind him. He
also has a purple dragon logo emblazoned across his chest.

           
All that, however, is not what I find most fascinating about him. It’s the fact
that he truly believes, deep down in his heart, that he is an actual wizard…
that he actually knows how to use black magic. He wears these robotic gloves
that enable him to shoot electricity from his fingertips, and his cyborg suit
has extendable wings that allow him to fly across the heavens like a mutant
eagle. I’ve seen video images of him buzzing around in the sky, firing
lightning bolts. He’s done a remarkable job of portraying himself as a magical,
god-like creature sent down to Earth to liberate the Russian people. Some
Russians actually think of him as a god.

           
Mikhail is a nutjob, there’s no doubt about that. But one can’t deny his
effective use of terrorism.  He has single-handedly thrust the Chinese
people into a perpetual state of fear. People are too frightened to leave their
homes for fear the Purple Dragons will bomb a school or supermarket. No wonder
the Chinese government wants him dead.

           
I relay all this to Lance, who is staring up at the stars. At first I think
he’s ignoring me, but he finally says, “So what’s the plan?”

           
I lift my goggles to give my eyes a rest from the glowing screen. “Well, Igor’s
gang mostly caters to older Russian refugees, but they’re always on the lookout
for ‘fresh blood’. They need younger people to be their drug runners and
assassins. We could probably convince Igor and his crew that we want to join
their cause. It’ll be easier to find Mikhail from the inside of a Purple Dragon
affiliate than from the outside of one.”

           
Lance stops looking at the stars and stares at me with wide eyes. “Are you
suggesting we weasel our way into the Purple Dragons and act as spies?”

           
“Yes, unless you have a better idea.”

           
I assumed Lance would be critical of my plan, like he usually is. So I’m
stunned when he grins and says, “That’s freaking genius!”

           
“Really?” I say.

           
Lance jumps out of his chair. “Yes, really! I’ve always wanted to be a spy,
infiltrating a major criminal group and taking them down from the inside. I
mean, we’ve done similar things before, like when we went after Remy, but this
will be way bigger, and way more exciting.”

           
“It’s also going to be extraordinarily dangerous,” I point out.

           
Lance blows raspberries. “Everything we do is dangerous. We nearly got beat up
by old bounty hunters on our way to the market this morning.”

           
“I doubt we were in any danger of being beat up, but I get your point.”

           
“This won’t be easy, though,” Lance says seriously. “The Purple Dragons don’t
let just anyone join their gang. We’ll have to prove we hate the Chinese or
something.”

           
I slide my goggles back over my eyes and look up the fashions of Purple Dragon
gangbangers. I quickly come across images of young people with spiky purple
hair and Mohawks. They’re all wearing leather jackets and pants, and quite a
few have tattoos of purple dragons on their arms and legs. (Big surprise
there.) I rattle off what I see to Lance, who merely nods.

           
“That won’t be too bad. I’m cool with dyeing my hair purple and wearing
leather. And doesn’t Krystal have some crazy Mohawk wig?”

           
“I believe so,” I mutter, not paying too much attention to Lance. I’m too busy
reading what it takes to join the Purple Dragons, and I don’t like what I see.

           
“What’s wrong?” Lance asks, squatting beside me. He can always tell when I’m
upset or perturbed.

           
“According to this article, the Dragons have a gruesome initiation process.”

           
“Such as?”

           
“To prove your loyalty, they usually make you take out one of their rival gang
members… or a troublesome politician.”

           
“Oh, a
hit
.”

           
“Yeah, a
hit
. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do this.”

           
“What do you mean? It’s not like we’ve never killed anyone before.”

           
“Yeah, but it’s always in self-defense. This will be totally different. We’ll
be going out to a commit
murder
, or maybe even multiple murders.”

           
Lance pats my shoulder. “You’re overthinking things, like always. They might
not even have us do an initiation. You know how perverted some of these older
Ruskies are. You show a little skin and they’ll make you a member right off the
bat.”

           
“I could say the same about you. I hear some of those Ruskies have a thing for
young guys.”

           
Lance shoves my shoulder. “Ew, that’s gross.”

           
“You started it!” I shove him back.

           
Lance and I continue our shoving match until a familiar, gritty voice says,
“Well ain’t this precious. The two lovebirds are playing a game of
patty-cake.” 

           
Lance and I spin around and gasp at the sight of a midnight-blue Moon Cruiser
floating up over the side of our penthouse apartment and landing on the roof.
Machete is in the driver’s seat and Arrow is right beside her, twirling one of
his arrows in his hands.

           
Lance marches over to our uninvited guests. “What the hell are you doing here?”

           
Arrow hops out of the car. “Calm down, hothead. We came to… ugh!”

           
Arrow never finishes his sentence because Lance slugs him in the mouth. Arrow
bumps up against the ledge, nearly falling off the roof.

           
Machete dashes over and tackles Lance to the ground. She then whips out a
gleaming blade and dangles it over his throat.

           
“Lance!” I scream. I grab Machete’s right arm, the one holding the blade. I
pull back with all my might, but Machete’s arm doesn’t budge. She’s
extraordinarily strong.

           
“Krystal, help us!” I shout. I hear nothing but laughter in response. Krystal
and the kids are so absorbed in their loud-ass TV show that they don’t hear our
struggle.

           
Machete spins around and punches me in the throat with her left fist. I gag and
collapse to my knees. My shades fly off and clatter to the ground. Tears stream
down my cheeks as I struggle to breathe. Machete came close to shattering my
windpipe.

           
Machete kicks the side of my head, unleashing a shower of orange stars that
flitter in and out of existence. White hot agony envelopes my skull. I’m
starting to see why Machete is so successful at nabbing crooks. She’s like a
freaking Kung Fu master.

           
Machete grabs my neck with her left hand while she dangles her blade over my
right eye socket.

           
“If you don’t stay down, girlie, I’ll perform a little cosmetic procedure that
will have people thinking you’re my long-lost daughter.”

           
I focus on Machete’s eye patch. I get the point and stop struggling.

           
“Get off of her!” Lance shouts, running up behind Machete. He skids to a halt
when Arrow aims an arrow directly at his neck. Lance sighs and raises his
hands. He knows a lost cause when he sees one.

           
“Alright, you guys win… again,” Lance growls. “What the hell do you
want?”                                                                                                                                                                                      
                                                                                                                                                                            

           
Machete releases her death grip on my neck and slowly stands up. I back away
and rub my throat, which feels like it’s just been released from a vise.

           
Arrow still has his arrow aimed at Lance, but he does back away. It would
appear Lance and I are out of danger… for the moment.

           
“Is this how you treat all your uninvited guests?” Machete asks, sheathing her
blade.

           
“Just answer the question,” Lance says curtly. “Why are you here?”

           
“We want you to help us hunt down Rasputin,” Machete says bluntly.

           
Lance and I exchange incredulous glances. I’m stunned.

           
“You expect us to track down Mikhail
together?
Are you on crack?!” Lance
cries.

           
Arrow jabs Lance in the chest with his pointed projectile.

           
“Watch your mouth.”

           
Lance scoffs. “Calm down, momma’s boy. I’m sure you’ve heard people say much
worse about your psychopathic mother.”

           
Arrow drops his bow and slugs Lance in the gut. Lance grunts and bowls over.

           
“Next time I’ll use a knife,” Arrow hisses.

           
“Arrow, back down!” Machete shouts. “You’re not helping matters!”

           
Arrow continues glaring at Lance, but he does grab his bow and step back.

           
I kneel beside Lance. He pushes me away and grumbles, “I’m fine, Firecracker.”

           
Typical Lance. He doesn’t like to be helped because he thinks it makes him look
weak.

           
Arrow flashes me a grin. “What’s up, Red? You look great in those shorts.”

           
My cheeks flush. I should be angry at Arrow and his insane mother for attacking
us, but for some reason I can never stay mad at him. Maybe it’s his gorgeous
black hair blowing softly in the breeze, or his muscular bronze arms, or the
cute dimples in his cheeks. His white, form-fitting shirt clings to his chest,
showing off his pecs. The shirt is so tight his six-pack makes a slight
indentation. Lance is pretty hot, but Arrow… Arrow is something else.

           
My heart flutters as I become absorbed in Arrow’s deep, brown eyes. It’s like
being swallowed up in an ocean of chocolate.

           
Machete sighs, snapping me out of Arrow’s magnetic trance.

           
“I hate to interrupt this love-fest, but we’ve got business to discuss.”

           
I glance at Lance. His face is fiery red, and he’s giving Arrow the look of
death. I’m surprised at how good that makes me feel. It seems I’m not the only
one who gets jealous easily.

           
“How about we start over?” I propose. “Why do you want us to join you on your
manhunt for Rasputin?”

           
Machete lights a cigar. Pacing back and forth, blowing smoke rings into the
air, she says, “Arrow and I want you to join us because…”

           
Machete stops and rubs her head. She grumbles uneasily under her breath and
finally blurts, “… we need your help.”

           
I smirk. It must pain Machete to no end to admit she needs help… more
specifically, she needs
our
help.

           
Lance crosses his arms and frowns. “How exactly are we supposed to help you?”

           
“We know you guys have access to some database that Dagger created,” Machete
says. “We know that’s why you’re so successful in your bounty hunting
endeavors, even after Dagger passed away.”

           
“That’s why we occasionally follow you,” Arrow says. “You lead us to our prey,
then we swoop in and take credit for the capture.”

           
“Why don’t you do that again this time?” Lance asks. “Why go through the hassle
of begging us for help when you can just follow us like always?”

           
“Because, numbnuts, Rasputin isn’t an ordinary fugitive,” Machete replies.
“This is the most wanted man on Earth. He’s going to have lots of dangerous
supporters protecting him. Even if Arrow and I were able to locate him by
ourselves, we’d need help taking him down. As much as I hate to admit it, you
kids are the smartest and toughest bounty hunters I know… besides myself and
Arrow, of course.”

           
“Oh, of course,” Lance says sarcastically.

           
“You kids are the only people I can kind of trust. If you’re in, I’ll split the
$25 million bounty with you. Arrow and I get $12.5 million, and you guys get
the rest.”

           
I open my mouth to speak, but Lance cuts me off.

           
“Gee, what a great offer. Let me think it over.”

           
Lance scratches his chin for a few seconds, then blurts, “Uh, no!”

           
The fingers Arrow has on his bow begin to twitch. In an attempt to prevent
Lance from getting shot, I say, “Now hold on, this may be a good idea.”

           
Lance’s jaw drops. “How could this possibly be a good idea? We can’t trust
these losers!”

           
Machete goes back to chugging on her cigar. The nicotine is probably the only
thing keeping her from gutting Lance like a fish.

           
Arrow walks over to me and grabs my hands. His calloused fingers are rock-hard.