August 7, 2010 - Infinity Island
Southern Indian Ocean
23:46:28
Trojan raced across tiled rooftops, his footing swift and sure. The bright silver of his armor had been blacked out, only the gleaming silver of his Lasso of Persuasion glittering in the moonlight at his waist. It was balanced by the leaf shaped shortsword on his other hip. The tropical night air was warm, and a sea breeze cooled him as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop.
Landing on a walkway silently, he spotted an Assassin sentry in armored tactical gear with a rifle, and instantly evaluated that speed was preferable to stealth. He rushed forward, the Lasso whipping forward and dropping around the unsuspecting guard’s arms, and with a snap pulled taut, making her drop the rifle in surprise as she was yanked off her feet and came hurtling toward him. Snapping out his arm, he caught her at the neck with a lariat and she slammed down into the roof with a thud and groan. With a swift and sure tug, the Lasso released and returned to his hand. Looking around, he saw no one had heard, and continued on.
Racing forward along the rooftop, he came to a high medieval wall. An outer defense that encircled the inner sanctum of this ancient palace. Employing the Lasso again, he whirled it over his head before casting it up to catch the top of a crenellation fifty feet above, and swiftly hauled himself up, arm over arm. Flowing over the top, he encountered no more guards, and slipped between shadows. Here and there, he spotted Assassin sentries who didn’t spot him in kind, and snuck past without engaging. Finally, he came to an open courtyard illuminated by floodlights. Peeking around the corner, he saw cameras covering the whole area, and knew he had to stay unseen if he was to reach his target.
He drew a five point throwing star from his belt, clicking an unseen button in the middle, illuminating three concentric rings around the button. Taking careful aim, he hurled the throwing star around the corner and it impacted with a slight tink against the stone. Drawing a smart phone from another pocket, it linked to the wireless hacking module in the throwing star. He saw the camera’s feed, and with a few taps, looped it. Peeking around again, there was no reaction and he didn’t show up on the feed. Putting the phone away, he dashed around the corner and entered the palace.
Passing through shadowed halls and galleries, the sandstone palace resembled more of a fortress than a maharajah's home. Iron barred doors and arrow slits speckled the walls, and the only signs of finery were discolored squares on the walls and floors where rugs and tapestries had once hung. The hallway he was in opened into the bottom floor of a wider two story gallery, with a massive staircase leading up. But he wasn’t alone.
An Assassin patrolled the ground floor by the stairs, while another patrolled upstairs, overlooking the whole room. Too far apart to take one without the other noticing.
Trojan grinned behind his black Corinthian helm; this was getting interesting.
Drawing both of his weapons, he burst around the corner and hurled his xiphos sword straight at the Assassin on the ground floor while his Lasso flicked out toward the one upstairs. The first heard him coming and reacted to the thrown sword in time to raise her rifle up to block it, but the Sword of War pierced right through the receiver, only stopping when the hilt arrested it. The Assassin was suddenly more concerned with getting the supernaturally sharp blade away from her and scrambled to unsling the rifle while Trojan dealt with the other one.
The Lasso looped around the Assassin and with a two handed haul, they came flying over the bannister with a strangled yelp. Trojan watched them arc toward him and once again clotheslined the masked killer, sending them in a tumble to thud against the wall. Dropping the Lasso, he charged the remaining Assassin, just as she drew a knife and sliced through the sling holding her useless weapon to her. Hearing his approach, she spun to face him. The knife came up and Trojan slipped a hand down to pull the Sword of War out of the rifle and bring it up to block her first barrage of frenzied slashes.
Steel clashed on Amazon crafted orichalcum, and each strike took bites out of the Assassin’s blade. She stared down at it in horror, and Trojan grinned and went on the attack. A few slashes to bait her out, and one decisive cut went right through her knife, leaving her holding a nub. Before she could react, he grabbed her with his off hand and tossed her over his shoulder towards her unconscious companion. As she rolled, he sheathed the Sword and snatched up the Lasso again. Before she could go for another weapon, he looped the Lasso around her hands and had her bound. Springing on her, he swiftly hogtied her to keep her from coming up with any more surprises.
Kneeling down besides his captive, he hauled her up painfully so he could whisper in her ear.
“Where’s Dr. Roquette being held?” He inquired in a low and threatening voice, so as not to carry.
She squirmed, trying to escape her bonds, but found them entirely unbreakable and inescapable, such was the magic the Olympians had woven into the Lasso. As she resisted answering his question, the slight moonlight streaming in from the windows above seemed to be caught in its strands and enhanced its glow. As the Lasso of Persuasion’s magic took hold, Trojan and the Assassin’s wills did battle to determine who would submit to whom.
The Assassin gritted her teeth behind her balaclava, trying to bite back the words her tongue seemed desperate to spill. Trojan’s will swiftly overcame hers; a lifetime of Amazonian training proving far superior to the thoughtless obedience that Ra’s al Ghul instilled in her minions.
“Upstairs! Fourth room on the left!” She barked out, and Trojan delivered a swift chop to the base of her skull that instantly knocked her out. Retrieving the Lasso, he pounced up the stairs with panther grace. Following his erstwhile guide’s instructions, he swiftly found the door in question.
Unlike the rest of the doors he’d seen this far, this one wasn’t ancient but well preserved iron banded wood, dark with age. It was dark, but it was a solid steel modern construction, with a viewing port at eye level and a sturdy lock that he didn’t have time to pick. He had left too many unconscious Assassins in his wake; someone was surely going to notice soon. It was time to get loud, since he had already found his target.
Drawing his weapons again, he knocked on the door with the hilt of the Sword, and awaited a response. After a second, the view port cover slid open, revealing the goggled and masked face of another Assassin, who started in surprise but wasn’t able to do anything else before Trojan put a boot, and his considerable demigod strength, right into the middle of the door.
The steel crumpled around his foot and flew off its hinges, smashing the Assassin and itself into the far wall. Trojan strode into the room and saw across from the door a blonde woman in a labcoat spinning around in her office chair, a pile of advanced tech, tools, computers spread out on the desk in front of her. Then the young hero’s head snapped to the left, to see another Assassin standing guard in the corner, and her rifle coming up to fill the room with flying lead and the deafening sound of gunfire reverberating off stone walls.
Almost faster than the human eye could see, Trojan’s arms snapped up and the Bracelets of Submission on his forearms deflected rifle rounds into the floor and ceiling. Each impact scraped off the matte black paint he had applied to them, revealing the gleaming and untouched silver beneath. He advanced as the Assassin kept shooting, a silver Bracelet in the path of each bullet instantly; his opponent backpedaled as her bullets proved ineffective but quickly backed into the wall behind her. Trojan closed to melee as she began to panic. The Sword of War in his right hand slashed out, cutting the barrel in half and ending the fusillade, and his left fist crashed into her jaw, sending her down in a heap.
In the sudden quiet, he turned to the blonde woman in the labcoat, a pair of thick glasses on her face and her hands covering her ears.
“Dr. Roquette?” Trojan asked, walking past the bemused scientist towards the far wall.
The eponymous Dr. Roquette turned to watch as Trojan pulled more throwing stars from his belt and began placing them in a circle on the wall.
“Please tell me you’re the advance guy.” Dr. Roquette whined, staring at Trojan in disbelief.
“The only guy.” Trojan answered gruffly as he completed his circle and stepped back, ushering Dr. Roquette behind him as he did so.
“You couldn’t bring backup? What, was it a boys’ night only?” Roquette complained as she shuffled back.
Suddenly, the tolling of bells echoed through the palace, bringing both their heads up as the sound reached them.
Them, and every Assassin in the complex.
Wasting no more time, Trojan pushed Dr. Roquette all the way to the far wall and turned his back.
“Cover your ears.” He instructed, but didn’t bother to do so himself.
Dr. Roquette barely had time to comply before Trojan brought up a hand, a detonator in it, and pressed the trigger. With a cacophonous simultaneous detonation, the throwing stars all detonated and blasted a hole through the wall, throwing up a dust cloud that made Dr. Roquette hack and cough. The hole opened into a scenic new vista; a several story drop down to a stretch of grass below and the jungle beyond. Just past the trees was the darkened beach and the rolling surf.
“You can’t be serious…” Dr. Roquette said, taking a wary step back from the steep drop.
“I’m always serious.” Trojan said seriously as he took the Lasso up in both hands.
Striding over to her work table, Dr. Roquette laid her hands on a high tech cylindrical machine, a green glowing light prominently on the front. The cylinder was the size of a fire hydrant, and looked just as heavy.
“We can’t leave this!” Dr. Roquette demanded, looking antsy as she hovered over the device.
“I need one hand to ride the line down, leaving one hand free to carry something. Either that thing, or you.” Trojan said tersely, staring into Dr. Roquette’s eyes to emphasize the seriousness of the situation.
Dr. Roquette seemed torn between the prospect of escape out the hole in the wall and her preoccupation with the device. She considered Trojan’s words for a moment, then a new resolve filled her as she took a deep breath and took her glasses off, tucking them into her coat pocket.
“Right. Take me.” She answered, straightening up as she did so. Her fear was still obvious, but there was a resolve there now as well.
Trojan nodded, and spun the Lasso over his head several times to build up momentum and then released it. The loop flew hundreds of feet, farther than should have been possible, the gleaming silvery rope gleaming in the moonlight as it flew and caught on a palm tree at the jungle’s edge. Trojan pulled it taut, then tied the loose end around the hilt of the Sword of War and stabbed it into the stone ceiling. It sank up to the hilt, as immovable as Excalibur as he tugged on the Lasso to test it. Drawing a handheld hook and carabiner from his belt pouches, he slipped it on and snapped the carabiner onto the Lasso.
Grabbing a startled Dr. Roquette around the waist with one arm and pulling her close, Trojan leapt from the crumbling floor of the room and swung into the night air. The carabiner whined as they slid down the Lasso’s length at breakneck speed, and he heard running footsteps behind them as the Assassins finally reached Dr. Roquette’s former room.
“Hang on!” He shouted as the wind whipped his words away but not Roquette’s scream, and he twisted to put himself between her and the Assassin’s. A pertinent decision, as they immediately opened fire. WIth both hands occupied, Trojan was forced to huddle himself around Roquette to shield her as bullets impacted against his cuirass and helmet. Thankfully none hit anywhere else and their adventurous zip line ride swiftly ended as they reached the tree and Trojan stopped them by slamming into the tree trunk with both feet crouched. He dropped Dr. Roquette the last few feet to the ground and grabbed the Lasso’s loop and pulled it off the tree trunk. With a practiced whip snap that traveled the hundreds of feet of the Lasso’s current length, he felt the Sword pull free of its anchor point.
The Sword served as a counterweight as he swung it low to trip the Assassins in Roquette’s room, knocking them all down like ninepins, then hauled it back to himself. The Sword’s flight was assisted by the Lasso’s length shortening and he easily caught it in one hand and stowed both away. Dr. Roquette was just stumbling to her feet when Trojan grabbed her hand and hauled her off toward the beach.
“Come on!” He shouted. He could already hear more teams of Assassins pouring out of the palace defenses and down towards the beach. They were still in the jungle when their enemies caught sight of them, and bullets chewed through the undergrowth around them. For all their training, the Assassins couldn’t get a bead on Trojan or Dr. Roquette as the former bounced them between trees, practically dragging the scientist at points through the darkened jungle. Occasionally a round got too close and he was forced to deflect it with the Bracelets.
Finally, they reached the beach and Trojan sprinted for an empty stretch of beach with only a single palm tree by the water to mark it. Pulling up short, he drew out his phone again and began tapping commands into it. Next to him, Roquette was doubled over and panting, not used to the exercise and the danger.
“Now… what!? Are you calling… a cab?” She shouted between pants, waving her hand at the empty beach.
“Now… we jet out of here.” Trojan answered smugly, as he finished his inputs and before them there was a hiss and clank as a cockpit swung up and open, hanging in mid air. Dr. Roquette stumbled back in confusion, mouth agape, suddenly seeing what wasn’t there before; an aircraft, a sleek and organic shaped fighter jet, parked on the beach. She couldn’t really see it, just its outline. Some kind of optical camouflage, displaying on one side what was on the other side, making it invisible at the correct angle. With the cockpit open, the illusion was partially shattered, and she boggled at the implausible technology.
“What the hell is that?” She demanded.
“My invisible jet.” Trojan answered succinctly.
Trojan leapt up into the cockpit in a single jump, before leaning over and offering Dr. Roquette a hand up. She accepted and he hauled her aboard, shoving her into a blue cushioned flight seat, before settling into the pilot’s seat. He slammed a button and the cockpit lowered back down, just in time to stop several more bullets coming their way. It slammed down and locked into place, and Dr. Roquette saw a shimmer along the outside of it; the camouflage reasserting itself, she hypothesized.
The cockpit was really more of a small cabin; the pilot’s seat up front, with two more seats at either shoulder, one of which she occupied. There were two more seats behind that, and just enough room to walk down a narrow aisle between them. The interior was all eggshell white and cerulean blue, smooth clamshell lines and dark ergonomic touchscreen control stations. She had never seen an aircraft like this before.
With a powerful but muted thrum, Trojan engaged the engines and the aircraft lifted off vertically, blasting sand and grit in the faces of the Assassins pouring out of the jungle and firing uselessly at the air as they lost sight of the invisible jet in the blinding sandstorm of its backwash. Once they were above the treeline, Trojan threw the throttle back and the engines roared as they rocketed away. A warning light and alarm came on, and Trojan idly noted air defense assets on Infinity Island were trying to acquire them.
He drew the detonator again from his belt, and pressed a different button. On the island, demolition charges went off on the surface to air missile batteries, igniting several sympathetic detonations as the warheads and rocket fuel cooked off. Glancing at the rear monitors, Trojan grinned to see his earlier sabotage had paid off in fiery blossoms around the island. Blowing out a relieved breath, he pulled his helmet off and tossed it into the seat opposite Dr. Roquette. The invisible jet knifed through the air, just above wave height, as he flew them out of Infinity Island’s sensor range.
Trojan ran a hand through and shook out his lustrous black hair, and Dr. Roquette couldn’t help noticing he looked more like he had just come off the set of a shampoo commercial rather than a running battle with murderous Assassins. He kept one hand on the stick while he turned to address her.
“I think we’re in the clear.”
“Great.” She replied, pulling her glasses back out of her pocket and putting them back on. “That leaves only one problem…”