“Lyn, you really are… the leaves bathing in the sun” — Drake.

West Berlin

1986

9:54 p.m.

The safe house came into view, Lyn and Kalen crept their way towards it clinging to the shadows, weapons ready and tucked to their shoulders. They approached a concrete wall about waist high surrounding the complex; a rusted gate served as the entrance, hanging askew and rattling from light winds. Kalen nodded and pushed open the gate with his bear sized hands.

A dog barked in the distance, pouncing against a chain-link fence. As they came closer, the extravagant details of the house became clear.

It was a two story home with a red tile roof, large sliding windows, an Olympic sized pool and a spacious terrace surrounded by an eden-like yard. The occupants inside gathered in the living room, oblivious to anything outside the home. Lyn centered her gun’s red dot on a man’s back as he raised a glass and chortled with his friends inside. Kalen took the left flank, centering his sights on another Palestinian goon.

The others raised a toast, smiling and drawing from their cigarettes. Pool balls clashed on the pool table inside with a burst of laughter from the winners and sighs from the losers. As Lyn neared, she directed her laser to the chandelier hanging amid the room and fired.

With the suppressor attached, her bullets became whispers in the wind as they punched through the glass doors and into the chandelier. The chandelier swayed as its bulbs burst, raining glass on the occupants. Kalen’s AR rifle was more deliberate.

The terrorists dispersed, gathering what weapons they could, and fired blindly into the nothingness. Stray rounds flew past Lyn, lighting the night, but she pressed, firing in controlled bursts and downing another gunman. Kalen shot the fusebox outside, shrouding the house in darkness.

Men screamed in Arabic from inside, footsteps scurrying across the tiger wood floors and stairs. Lyn’s feet crunched under piles of broken glass as she entered the living room, shooting each corpse as she moved. She stopped and reloaded, Kalen proceeding from behind and clearing the kitchen.

Kalen looked up and pushed Lyn aside, as machine gun fire erupted from above, diving away as more bullets strafed the kitchen.

“You okay?”

Lyn rose to a knee, patting wood chips off her jacket. “Yeah…”

She stormed the stairs, killing the gunman around the corner until reaching a hallway. Bullets flew down the narrow hall, forcing Lyn to hang tight to a wall around the corner. Lyn glimpsed the twins shuffling out a door onto the rooftop.

Her face turned dark. “They’re getting away!”

Kalen shook his head. “No, they won’t…”

He strode down the hall, weapon raised and firing. Bullets smashed against the body armor surrounding his chest with metallic pings; other rounds pierced his flesh or grazed his arms. But Kalen dismissed them as light stings, his flesh expelling the rounds and healing in an instant.

Lyn clung to him like a shadow, firing over his shoulders and downing the two terrorists guarding the hall. They reached the roof just in time to see the twins leap off the edge and onto another building below. As they ran, another group of men stepped forward to cover their withdrawal.

Kalen and Lyn sprinted and slid down the roof, tiles peeling off in their wake and staining her jeans in red dust. As they slid, they sprayed the opposite roof with gunfire, forcing the men across to dash for cover. They reached the edge and leapt; Lyn landing on the other side first and rolling to soften her fall.

She found herself surrounded and staring down a rifle barrel. The goon wore a triumphant smug. Kalen landed and rolled, regaining his balance and grabbing the closest man to him. He snapped his neck with the flick of a wrist and unpinned a grenade hidden in his coat. He tossed it towards the group surrounding Lyn and yelled: “Lyn, grenade!”

The grenade tumbled along the floor, stopping amid the group, momentarily catching their attention. When the first man realized his predicament, he yelled and sprinted away. Lyn swept one terrorist’s legs, knocking him down and placing his body between her and the grenade. In a fiery inferno, the grenade detonated, throwing Lyn and her human shield back several feet.

She hit her head against a turbine vent and groaned. Seared flesh filled the air, and she pushed away the corpse, its back charred and sizzling. She blinked and caught her breath, rage overpowering the jarring pain. When the sting of sweat cleared, she saw Kalen holding a man at gunpoint. Beside the man on the ground laid his twin, a pool of blood seeping from his chest.

Ahmed raised his hands submissively; the edge of the roof standing between him and the thirty-foot drop below. On a warehouse across the roof stood a colossal neon sign in pink and purple saying:

HAPPY NEW YEAR 1986!

Below, car sirens and horns blared, along with typical commerce of a city such as Berlin. Ahmed’s brother, known as Shukrim, griped like a wounded animal, covering the wound in his chest. His brother took a step but conceded as Kalen bumped him with his gun.

“Please! My brother, he’s dying — !”

Lyn sauntered past Kalen, hovering her gun over Shukrim’s head and executing him with cold deliberation.

Ahmed shrilled and fell to his knees, bawling. Lyn grabbed him by the collar and pushed him against the edge.

Lyn tilted her head, curled a fist, and struck him. “You like to kill Jews, huh?”

Ahmed continued sobbing, face in anguish.

“ANSWER ME!”

“Lyn…” Kalen said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Remember what we came here for…”

The darkness on her face faded, and her eyes softened. She reached in her shirt and pulled out a necklace; a golden Star of David. She kissed it and tucked it away. To further exact reprisal towards Ahmed, she drove him forward until his upper body hung upside down over the edge. Ahmed flailed his arms and shrilled, closing his eyes.

“Melchior…” Lyn prompted. “We know you’ve had dealings with him or — whoever the hell they are. You’re going to tell us how to find him…”

“Cooperate, and we can guarantee your safety,” Kalen said, trying to dampen the venom of Lyn’s words.

“I don’t know who he is! Never dealt with him directly, only through a man who goes by Faust!”

Lyn and Kalen shared a brief glance.

“That’s all I know! I swear!”

“How do we find this, ‘Faust?’ ” Lyn asked, her voice skeptical.

“H — He runs a warehouse downtown! On the east side of Berlin!” Ahmed said, shuddering.

Kalen murmured to Lyn’s ear. “I’ve heard of him before, supposedly runs a crime syndicate: drugs, guns, prostitution, human trafficking, He’s ex Stasi; the man’s a killer…”

Lyn wore a pensive stare. She turned to Ahmed, glaring.

“Please! Please! I’ve told you everything! Now let me go — !”

Lyn sneered. “Poor choice of words…”

“Wait — !” Kalen rushed to the edge, face mortified as Ahmed fell.

His screams resounded across the face of concrete buildings as he fell. Curious bystanders peeked out their apartment windows as he hit a catwalk, bounced across ledges and landed face first on the ground. Lyn continued her bloody crusade, dark determination filling her eyes.

Kalen followed. “You know he might have been useful to us if you had —”

Lyn continued strolling. “Maybe…”

Kalen sighed. “Lyn, sometimes I swear it’s like you don’t listen to me at all…”

She stopped and turned, jabbing his meaty chest with a finger, emerald eyes sharp. “We find Faust, we find Melchior. The sooner we find Melchior, the sooner we find where Drake is hibernating. I don’t care who we have to coerce; I don’t care who I have to kill. All that matters is finding Drake…”

She didn’t realize the stray tear falling from her eye until Kalen wiped it with a thumb. He smiled and lifted her chin. “It’s okay, I miss him too. We’ll find him.”