The General’s Point of View (POV):

What force is so great to guide legends on a collision course? I often drift off in remembrance when left alone and my fingers find its way to the never healing scar.

Fire!

"My General, what troubles you?" A female voice says, interrupting my thoughts.

It was Darya, who else would disturb a lion in his den. She is my fiery haired lioness.

"Nothing my sweet." I tell her.

"We haven’t talked about what happened to you." Darya tells me.

"It was nothing." I reassure her, “Just a sign of old age.”

"Still, no more drinking for you." Darya tells me as she rubs my shoulders, “I can’t lose you.”

Her caring nature for me underneath her tough exterior is one of her many traits I greatly love.

“I worry about what Fire’s death might mean. What consequences might fate unleash.” I tell her.

“I thought you wanted him dead?” She asks me, “Is he not your archnemesis?”

"Hmm... I never told you?" I ask her.

"Told me what?" She asks me, interest piquing.

"Time for a story." I tell her.

She pounces on my laps and I puff out in pretense. Her feminine frame feels delicate.

"We begin!" I say as I rub her hair.

Years ago, I met him. Sometime in the late 80s, towards the end of Soviet reign at the height of the cold war. Fate, ever sly, set us on a path which would lead to our eventual confrontation.

-*-*-

Overall POV:

The twirling blades of a Soviet Mil Mi-24 helicopter broke the coldness of the air enroute to a remote facility. A pilot and weapons system officer manned the cockpit, driving the aerial monstrosity to its final destination.

Onboard, seven passengers sat opposite each other. Six wore military uniforms and face masks. Spetsnaz, Soviet special forces of the highest caliber. The seventh was dressed differently, in a higher regard.

Little did anyone realize, he would soon become known as The General.

“Colonel, we are approaching the facility.” A voice boomed over the radio.

“Thank you. Comrades, get ready!” The man replied.

Two minutes later, the helicopter landed with a soft thud. The Colonel put on his thick winter jacket and gloves then gave the signal to move out.

The cabin door swung outwards. Three of the men filed ahead into the snowy countryside. The Colonel’s boots touched down on the fluffy substance. He moved, shoulders square and legs swinging, in defiance of the slippery platform.

A huge mountain loomed ahead. A guard rushed forward and opened a door in the middle of the edifice. The Colonel, unfazed, proceeded inside. It was a dark and long corridor. The temperature rose rapidly, leading all the men to take off their winter wares.

The metal door shut behind him. The steps of seven well built men echoed along the corridor. They walked until a door was finally reached with a man in a lab coat standing in front of it.

“Sir! Welcome back!” The scientist, no older than forty, said.

“Yes! Status report?” The Colonel asked.

“On schedule. And how was the award ceremony?” The scientist responded.

“My third one. Just fine.” The Colonel said.

“Hero of the Soviet Union, the highest award possible.” The scientist said with obvious glee.

“It will be yours someday, when you make the Kremlin happy.” The Colonel said.

“Well, we are ready for a pre-trial before the big event.” The scientist said.

“Show me!” The Colonel said.

Both men walked along a stretched platform which oversaw a facility down below. Metal works and scientists scrambling to complete a massive secret project with no one fully understanding the whole picture.

The Colonel and the scientist finally arrived at their destination. This can be best described as a test range. They entered a glass booth which overlooked a large metallic cylindrical object suspended by large clamps. It was a missile.

“Sir, your goggles and earmuffs.” The scientist said, offering up the equipment.

“Thank you. Begin the test.” The Colonel said, putting on the equipment.

The scientist pushed a button on the console. From the back of the titan projectile, a stream of hot fiery river ejected. The ground shook with the sudden force, but held steady. The Colonel examined the screen in front of him. A heat radar. Nothing. He stared intensely for a minute longer and still nothing. He smiled and gave the nod for the end of the test. Silence fell.

“Success. You may finally get a medal too.” The Colonel said with a smile.

“Thank you, sir!” The scientist said with obvious excitement.

“I’ll report back to the Kremlin with good news.” The Colonel said.

“I admit, I never understood the need for this, sir.” The scientist blurted out.

“My sources tell me that the Americans have recently built and field-tested stealth bombers known as F-117.” The Colonel said, “So, the Americans will never see this coming.”

“I see, sir.” The scientist said, “So now we have our own means to fight their stealth.”

“Yes.” The Colonel said, “Prepare a recording of this test for me. I leave in 2 hours to Moscow.”

“Sir!” The scientist said.

The Colonel and the scientist parted ways. The Colonel strolled to a part of the facility called the Lounge. He was just about to relax when suddenly, the building shook violently. Alarms whirled.

The Colonel ran out and shouted into his radio, "Report! Over."

"A series of bombs are going off, sir! Over." A voice said over the radio.

"Where? Over." The Colonel asked.

"Everywhere, sir! Over." The voice responded.

"Security cameras now! Find the source! Over." The Colonel commanded.

"Yes sir!” The voice said, “Current Intel suggests several squads of intruders. Over."

"Prep my team to counter, keep me posted on the radio! Over." The Colonel said.

"Yes sir! Over." The voice said.

The Colonel ran head first into the chaos. He wondered how their base had been discovered. Who else could be attacking but cursed Americans!

"Sir! We found the source! Over." A voice on the radio said.

"Report! Over." The Colonel said with excitement.

"Sir... It's one man! Over." The voice on the radio said.

"Repeat comrade! Over." The Colonel said with confusion.

"It is one man..." The voice had begun to say then static!

The overhead lights died suddenly, replaced with the red hue of emergency lighting. They, whoever they were, had successfully paralyzed the secret base.

"We are searching for one man. Capture if possible! Over." The Colonel said over the radio.

Whoever the enemy was needed to be dealt with with extreme prejudice.

"Sir, we found him and are engaging! Over." A voice said over the radio a moment later.

"Excellent comrades! Keep him occupied." The Colonel said in response.

The secrets of the project must be protected. The Colonel runs when suddenly...

-*-*-

The Colonel’s POV:

BOOM!

Explosion! A ball of fire erupts right in front of me. The shock waves knock me back. I protect my face instinctively. After a moment of delay, out of the blazes, a man rolls out and balances on the balls of his feet. His bravado radiated like nothing I’ve seen before. I recognize him. A KGB report had referred to a dangerous American spy going by the name, Lion. He must be stopped.

In quick succession, I rise and propel myself for a tackle but he sidesteps it. I do a roll to soften my fall, turn around and rise slowly. No words need to be exchanged. The dance floor is set.

We dash at each other with ferocious speed. The burning debris littered about was of no concern to us. We exchange rapid blows, but none connect.

His expression was cloudless. The danger around him arouses no terror. His movements resembled the dancing flames surrounding our bout. Alas, the series of silenced tensed fist and leg processions made no advancement to a climax. He went for the gun on his hip. A mistake. I was faster. I kicked hard at a pebble-sized flaming rock. It shot past his torso, ripping his black tee shirt even further.

He stared at me, I stared right back with the expression, “Not today American scum!”

He grabbed at his ruined tee shirt, with one fluid and rapid movement, ripped it clean off his chest. A declaration of desperation.

I was sweating, and it wasn’t due to the heat. It had been ages since I was challenged like this… I need a weapon.

Wheeze! A stone flies in my direction but my body reacts on muscle memory and dodges it. Head in the game, this isn’t a pushover fight. In fact, this is fun.

I need a scene change, the current environment favors him more and more the longer our battle lasts. He noticed my hesitation, threw a series of backflips and sprinted off. I followed closely.

BAM!

Another blast jarrs me off course as its force shook the facility further. Damn! Got to catch up.

-*-*-

Lion’s POV:

A distraction. Perfectly executed. Who would imagine I would face the hero of the Soviet Union, The Colonel. Our collision is a twisted game of fate but I bet on myself. I hustle further inwards, towards the old power station. The advantage of recon, studying the blueprints provided me alternative routes out of here. This secret bunker is currently powered by a nuclear reactor. Years ago, it relied solely on coal and now that coal station is mostly abandoned. My exit.

I glance behind quickly, that man is persistent. Need to get rid of him for my escape. A weapon?! My gun was no use in here, fuel and fire danced around the landscape, easily ignitable. My knife!

Quickly, I eject it out of its sheath and turn to face my pursuer. He performed a double take before sidestepping into an obscure corner.

Thick black fog hangs in the air, the unsetting taste of coal. The screeching sound of the giant turbine halting in agony. Visibility is an issue but I take a rapid mental picture of the environment - fire, pipes, ladder, stairs, catwalk, ropes, and high ceiling. Perfect!

Whoa!

I duck the improvised flaming missile targeting my head. Using the ground as support to close the distance, I push forward. Attack him head on while considering my means of escape.

He produces a metal rod from thin air. We parry, my combat blade grazes his iron rod. We intensely stare at each other before jumping apart. My palms are sweaty… it's been awhile since I've fought this hard.

He is obstructing my exit route. I clench my hands tighter and charge in. He sidesteps it as planned. A simple trick to bypass him. I run up the labyrinth of stairs, he follows closely. I jump over a long pipe, he leaps after me. Big mistake! Quickly, I spin around and toss my knife. He sacrifices his rod as a shield. It drops away at the deck below. Weaponless.

We both land awkwardly on our sides, face to face, before recoiling. We stand in hell, fires raging everywhere and he just laughs.

-*-*-

Overall POV:

“You, American, truly are something! All this running and still up to a fight.” The Colonel said.

“So are you, Colonel. I heard rumors and they are all true!” The Lion responded while thinking, “Damn, wrong walkway.”

“Rumors are but slivers of truth.” The Colonel said, “You dance like the threads of a wild ogon!”

“Don’t you mean a wild Fire?” The Lion responded.

“Nothing escapes you. Consider that my gift if you escape me.” The Colonel said.

“Gladly!” The Lion responded.

They ran at one another, a slur of fists flowed rapidly. It was as if a conductor worked behind the scenes, tugging each like puppets on strings in perfect symphony.

Stalemate once more. Fire grabbed hold of some floating metal chains, using the momentum to impact the Colonel’s chest. He jumped down and raced to the end of the runway. But the fight wasn’t over yet. The Colonel stood in rapid succession and gave chase. A tiger on his prey. Down the flight of stairs and left.

Both minds thought the same thing, their limb fights were too balanced. Ahead of the race, an assembly line of hot coal rolled slowly past on its way to a large furnace with their weapons as hostages. Fire took the leap of faith across the ravine of coal, grabbing his blade as he flew past. The Colonel grabbed at the rubber end of his metallic rod which sizzled red-hot. The heated coal had kissed both weapons, increasing their deadliness.

The pile of rolling hot coal acted like a schism between both parties. Fires danced around and the ceiling shook loose, tiny rocks fell in. The mountain was collapsing. The choking pungent of burnt coal seared the air as the sounds of rumbling rocks kept flowing like thunder.

Both opponents ran in parallel to each other along the catwalk divided by hot coal. The line was getting shorter and time was running out.

CLINK! The sound of two scorching metal grinding at one another. This was a fight to the finish, only the last man standing was walking out of the inferno. Both men tumbled on each other whilst clashing metal to no avail. It would seem equal but not for long.

AHH!!! They both shouted.

Fire’s blade had gone towards the Colonel’s left shoulder and his metal rod at Fire’s left shoulder. In unison, they dropped their weapon and recoiled in pain. A deadly silence spread in anticipating melody.

A final blast rocked both men up, the environment was near hostile. The space in between them collapsed with a large dumping of debris from above. In this gap, a blazing fire erupted in its wake. They were stalemated at last by the blistering heat. And so…

-*-*-

The General’s POV:

“He escaped!” I conclude to a wide-eyed Darya.

“Escaped? But how? Why stop there?” She asks. Her interest is clearly drawn.

“He planned ahead. I thought him cornered but it was all an ensemble.” I further explain.

“I don’t understand…” She mumbles.

“He is called Fire because I gave him that title and he paid me with this scar.” I explain.

“Oh! An encounter like that in such a perilous place.” She says.

“So you see, I respect him. But I also worry about the domino effects.” I tell her.

With a smile she says, “You have me by your side. Together, we’ll face fate itself and defy it.”

Then kisses me before rising from my lap in her ever seductive manner.

“Thank you, dear!” I say smiling back, “Let me know when your Siren reports back.”

“Mhm. In the meantime, I shall allow you a nap, my General. And don’t dwell on the past too long. Never hides goodies.” She tells me. Her feminine charm is as strong as ever.

“Naturally.” I say smiling as she leaves the room.

Once more alone and at peace to dive deeper into my thoughts. That scene replays again from the reel of my memories on the screen of my consciousness.

My lips itch with a smile while caressing the familiar scar.

“So what shall fate serve me with your death, old friend?”