Mighty Max, Jackie Chan Adv, and all related is copyrighted to their
original owners. No money is being on this and no such intent should be
inferred.

"If we men married the women we deserved,
we should have a very bad time of it."
-- Oscar Wilde

"Son..." Max whirled to face his mother. "You told me my dad died 
before I was born!"

"That's what I was told," she said in an icy tone. "I suppose I should 
have realized something was wrong when his 'good friend' clicked his 
heels together in an almost salute before leaving the commune."

"Commune?" Max asked.

"Augustus?" Jackie asked. He rarely called his friend by his first 
name, but right now, he wasn't sure what was happening.

"Agustus?" Dr. Sears repeated. "You told me your name was Kevin. Kevin 
Smith! You lied to me!"

"It wasn't--"

"Shut up!" Annabelle screamed. "I thought you loved me. I grieved for 
you, you bastard!!"

"Commune?" Max repeated. "Mom? You were a hippie?"

"Not now, Max," she said and glared at Black. "Well?"

"Oh yes, do tell, Captain Black," Shendu broke in. "Why did you break 
her heart?"

"This probably isn't the best place for this," Tohru noted.

Black nodded. "Jackie, would you ask Personell to find some rooms for 
our guests? Annabelle...Max, would you come to my office?"

****

"Well?" Annabelle demanded as she sat down in Black's office. Max 
joined her as Norman leaned against the wall. There had been some 
arguements against allowing Norman into the office, but Norman had 
refused. He had his duty and none of Section Thirteen Security really 
wanted to argue with a man who looked as though he could lift the 
entire installation out of the ground.

Black sighed and seemed to be considering something. "I suppose you do 
deserve the truth."

"Damn right we do," Annabelle said, quivering with barely restrained 
fury.

"How do I put this? Have you ever seen the move Men in Black?" Max 
nodded. "I'm sort of like that. I don't actually exist." Black removed 
a wallet from his pocket and tossed it on the desk. "That's Augustus 
Black right there. We're known as Umbra Via. Shadow Travelers."

"Shadow Journey," Anabelle corrected, speaking to Max. "Translated from 
latin, Umbra Via means Shadow Journey. Travelers makes a little more 
sense when you refer to people, but via is latin for journey."

Black stared at her for a moment and then continued. "We're recruited 
as young children, usually from orphanages. From there, we're trained 
to be able to assume any persona at a moment's notice. Doctors, 
lawyers, police, whatever the situation requires. We do it all. Spying, 
courier duty...assassination. There's only about five hundred of us in 
the whole world. We're ghosts, the most secret of secret agents, 
working for our respective goverments, assuming and discarding 
identidies the way people change their clothes." Black smiled wryly. 
"There are days when I can't even remember the name I was born with. 
We're surgically altered so that we leave no traces of ourselves 
behind, regardless of what we do." He showed them his palms and Max 
blinked as he realized that Black's palms were smooth, with no sign of 
lines. Even his fingerprints were missing. "Total anyonymity. All 
distinctive features removed or hidden." He turned his hands over and 
stared at the palms.

"Wait, are you saying you're sterile?" Anabelle asked.

"Or so I was told," Black said, raising an eyebrow.

"He's yours," Anabelle said in response to the unspoken 
question/accusation. "You were my first and only. That much, I think, 
was obvious." Black nodded, accepting her at her word. "Then what 
happened?" she said.

Black pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're aware that your...group 
leader was smuggling drugs?"

"Medicinal Marijauna," Anabelle corrected.

"It went deeper then that. Without going into detail, he was a central 
node for a worldwide cartel that was...unselective about it's wares. 
'Kevin Smith' was supposed to gather evidence about the good reverend's 
involvement and break up the hold he held on the state's illegals 
pipeline. I didn't expect to...become involved. When it was over, my 
superiors decided to fake my death rather then risk 'contamination'. I 
was bustled off to Laos and so I had no idea that Max was...in the 
works. A few years ago, the FBI decided it needed a permanant secret 
strike force to gaurd America's internal interests in the Pacific. 
Since I left you, I had been coming to grips with the fact that I was 
no longer enjoying my work and I was getting on in years. I wanted a 
'desk job' as it were. So they gave me command of Section Thirteen."

"So who are you really?" Max asked. "And where did that statue come 
from?"

Black considered that and then picked the wallet off the desk. "I 
became Augustus Black when I joined Section Thirteen. He's a good man, 
sometimes a little obsessed with the fact that he's a spymaster, but I 
like him." He put the wallet away. "The FBI is charged with the 
internal defense of America. Section Thirteen's job was to indentify 
and nuetralize domestic threats of an exotic nature. Bio-weapons, super 
lasers. Anything and everything at the cutting edge of science and 
beyond. However, we've aquired proof now that many of our nightmares 
are real. Things like demons, sorcery, vampires. For the past six 
months, Section Thirteen's new role has been to identify, sieze and/or 
destroy any all potential and otherwise supernatural threats to the 
United States. Basically, if it's magic, we lock it up or destroy it. 
The statue is Shendu. A demon who ruled China nearly a millenium ago 
until a band of sorcerers bound him into the statue, where he remained 
until a man named Valmont freed him. It almost cost Jackie his life to 
stop Shendu's rampage and reimprison him." He cocked his head. "Neither 
one of you seem very surprised."

Max grinned and leaned back in his chair. "Have I got a story for you."

****
It took Max almost an hour to tell his tale and when he was done, Black 
did not speak. Then, he held out his hand. "The cap, Max. Give it to 
me."

"What?"

"If that cap is as powerful as you say, it's a threat to this country. 
Give it to me. Or I'll be forced to take it."

"I wouldn't," Norman said softly. The big man had moved slighty away 
from the wall and stood between them and the doorway. Black's hand 
moved towards a set of buttons on the desk and Norman twitched.

*THUNK*

A knife suddenly became buried to the hilt in the desk, right between 
Black's hand and the button. Considering that the desk was made of 
battle grade steel, the kind used to make tanks, and that Norman had 
thrown the knife, Black froze. "I can have armed gaurds in here within 
ten seconds," Black said.

"You'll be dead in one," Norman replied casually.

"Are you threatening me?"

Norman shrugged and gave Black a small smile.

"Sounds like an impasse to me," Anabelle observed, clearly enjoying 
Black's discomfort.

"Look," Max said. "I appreciate that you have a job to do. But so do 
I." He removed the Cosmic Cap from his head and stared at it. "I don't 
like it. I never wanted to be a hero. But I am the Mighty One. This cap 
is mine. And nobody, not even you, will take it from me."

****

He'd had another name, once. A weak name to go with the foolish 
Atalantean who had traveled to Lemuria to aquire knowledge of all 
things. But that was then. Knowledge was useful, but he had soon 
discovered that it was power that he wanted. Power that he craved. So 
he'd crafted a new name, one that fit him much better.

Skullmaster.

He smiled thinly as he thought of those days, pacing his throne room 
and then abruptly, stalked to the balcony and gazed out onto his realm, 
watching.

Skullmaster no longer had his crystal, and no way to the surface, but 
the ancients had buried other things beneath the earth's surface.

Fools.

****

The intention of prision was the denial of freedom, a harsh punishment 
to discourage repeated forays into illeagal doings. Thus, there was 
little else to do besides think. The body was restricted, but the mind 
was free.

Edwin Valmont had done a great deal of thinking.

He stuffed the tie of his suit into his pocket and took a deep breath. 
There was no real difference, but eighteen months in prison on tax 
charges--the only thing Black could make stick without exposing Section 
Thirteen or making himself look like a loony--had made the air outside 
seem as fresh and sweet as a sea breeze in the tropics.

He knew where he had gone wrong. He had gotten greedy, forgotten how he 
had forged Dark Hand in the first place; with paitence and finesse. 
He'd relied far too much on the supernatural and not enough on 
bisinuess.

He would rebuild Dark Hand, of course, but he would do it right this 
time. No more magic, no more quick scores.

In his pocket was one hundred and two dollars and forty-two cents 
earned in the prision's work system. His body was toned and hardened by 
both weights and proving himself in the near anarchy of what could be 
genorously be called the social structure he had just left. His mind 
was just as quick and he had learned things from his fellows. Things he 
had not learned by simply using his family's money as he had done to 
originally build Dark Hand.

Hardly the tools he needed, but they sufficed for the moment, and would 
get him the tools that he did need in due time. Paitence was his motto 
now. Planning was his friend. He needed to leave California for 
certain, perhaps even America entirely. Maybe England.

But one thing at a time first.

At the bus station he paid sixty-four dollars for a one way bus trip to 
Vegas. There was a man named Smitty in Vegas. He was a forger, perhaps 
the best forger in the world...and he owed Edwin Valmont a favor.

****

As the jet lifted off from San Francisco International, Max stared out 
the window and then removed the cap from his head and stared at it.

His father a spy.  It was hard to believe. But it was true. It was 
forcing Max to completely reexamine his worldview.

The truly sucky part was that for both their sakes, they could not stay 
in touch and they both knew why.

Max put the cap back on his head and watched as the landscape of 
California passed beneath the plane.

Life really did suck.

****

Ten years later...

Augustus Black sighed and adjusted his cumberbund. He was going to need 
more time in the gym it seemed. Then he shook his head, no, it wasn't 
that, he was just getting old.

Sighing again, he eyed the banners strung around the ballroom and then 
the display at the front of the room. Under a glass case was several 
artifacts that had been gathered by Section Thirteen over the years. 
Supposedly, they were on loan to the Academy by a "private collector" 
who wished to remain anomounys. In reality, each one had been 
"deactivated" with chi spells and were more or less harmless.

Or at least difficult to trigger.

"Splendid, aren't they, Captain Black?"

Black's eyes narrowed in outright hatred. "Valmont," he said in icy 
tones. "I trust you're well." Valmont had turned into a very slippery 
weasel. He'd vanished from sight after leaving prison and then returned 
five years later, having apparently done very well for himself in 
Europe. According to Cammy Howard, who held a position similar to Black 
in Europe, Valmont had done a great deal of work for the Europeon Crime 
Syndicates and they had paid him very, very well.

Not that there was any proof, of course.

Dark Hand had arisen soon after Valmont's return to San Francisco, but 
try as he might, Black had been unable to connect Valmont to the 
revived Dark Hand.

"Never better, sir," Valmont said. "It's good to see Jackie Chan 
honored for his work. Youngest person to ever recieve the lifetime 
achievement award and multiple archeological artifacts all in one 
night. Americans always were efficent in that respect...or eager to 
save money." Valmont sipped his champagne. "And what brings you here, 
Captain Black? You're far too alert to be here simply to honor your 
good friend."

Black hesitated for a just a moment, and then took a chance. "Rumor has 
it that Dark Hand might try to steal the artifacts."

"Dark Hand? Ah yes, the crime syndicate. They dealt in mostly asian 
artifacts as I recall. Smuggled them into the country, Canada, and 
Mexico, didn't they? I thought they had been shut down. Has someone 
rebulit it?"

"So it would seem."

"Shameful," Valmont tsked. "I do hope you find out who's behind them. 
Crime never pays."

"You would know," Black said through almost gritted teeth.

"Why, Captain Black, I am shocked--shocked, that you would still hold 
those upaid taxes against me. Yes, I did make mistakes, but I'll not 
make them again. Lessons learned, Captain. Lessons learned. Oh, and 
when you adjusted your cumberbund, the microphone popped out. Just a 
smidge." Valmont raised his glass in a sort of half toast and 
disappeared into the crowd. The styrofoam cup of club soda in Black's 
hand crumpled, spilling liquid all over his sleeve. Biting back curses, 
he went to the bar.

Standing at the bar was a stunning, athletic young woman in long black 
dress that clung to her lean, shapely, body like a second skin. She was 
chinese, in her early twenties, with short black hair and large dark 
eyes that seemed to drink in light. She was leaning on the bar in a 
posture of boredom, idly watching people come and go.

"Napkin, please," Black said said to the barkeep.

"Are you okay?" The young woman asked.

"Spilled drink," Black replied with a smile. "Ran into an old friend. 
Edwin Valmont."

The young woman's eyes flashed with disgust. "How was he?" she asked as 
though in idle curiousity.

"Hasn't changed," Black said and then stooped as the woman dropped the 
small purse that she'd been holding. "Allow me," he said even as she 
was also kneeling to retrieve the purse.

For one brief moment, thier heads were close together. "He saw my 
cumberbund mike," Black said without moving his lips. "Be careful."

They both stood back up and the woman smiled her thanks. Taking her 
drink, she moved off into the crowd. Recieving a fresh round of club 
soda, Black moved off into the crowd only to stop as he sensed someone 
behind him.

"Hello, Augustus," said a woman's voice, cold and accusing.

"Annabelle," Black said tiredly as he turned.

His heart skipped a beat.  She wore a plain dark gray suit, there was 
gray hair or two at her temples, a few wrinkles and her eyes screamed 
exhaustion, but Annabelle still looked just as lovely as she had when 
they had first met.

"How are you?" She asked. More attentive, Black noted the exhaustion in 
her voice...and worry.

"I'm well," he replied. "You?"

She shrugged. "Max disappeared last week. He left a note saying he was 
off with Virgil and Norman. I haven't heard from him since." She took a 
glass of champange from a passing tray.

"How...is he?" Black asked.

"As well as can be expected. Graduated high school on the Dean's List, 
was accepted into UCLA on a history major, but got booted out last 
year." She gave her untouched champange a dirty look and handed it to a 
passing waiter. "Coffee," she hissed. "Black." The waiter nodded and 
vanished into the crowd.

"Booted out?" Black asked.

"Saving the Dean of the History Department. Apparently not getting 
eaten by a demon is something to blacklist your savior for." The waiter 
returned,  handed her the coffee and then disappeared again. "Even if 
you did 'accidentally' summon it in the first place." She sipped the 
coffee and gave a happy sigh. "Max was supposed to be here tonight, but 
I suppose that saving the world is more important."

At that moment, a tall young man in a white and blue tuxedo walked up 
to them, tucking a red baseball cap into his pocket. He had shaggy 
blond hair, blue eyes and a short goatee. He was athletic without being 
muscular, and was almost as tall as Black himself. "Hi, Mom, sorry I'm 
late." He kissed Annabelle's cheek.

"Hello, dear," Annabelle said. "You remember Augustus Black, don't you?"

"Couldn't forget," Max said as he held out his hand. "It's good to see 
you again."

"Likewise," Black said, taking the hand. He was pleased to note that 
Max had a good, firm handshake. "I hear you've been keeping busy."

"That's me," Max replied. "Always jumping." He turned as the same young 
lady Black had spoken to at the bar walked up to them. Her eyes 
flickered over Annabelle and Max, lingering ever so briefly on Max and 
then sqaurely met Black's.

"We found them, Sir. They had some sort of aircraft hidden on a tower 
roof two blocks east. Prelim reports suggest it was custom built 
specifically to manuever in San Francisco airspace, but we can't be 
sure until Kevin strips it down. They were in posession of detailed 
plans of the building and non-leathal weaponry. Unfortunutly, there 
were no ties to Valmont or Dark Hand."

"Excellent," Black said. "And since you're being so free with what is 
supposed to be classified data, you must remember Doctor Sears and her 
son?"

"Naturally," the young woman replied without missing a beat and shook 
their hands. "Agent Jade Chan." She smiled. "Long time no see."

Max only smiled.

****

Jackie Chan sighed as he set the award on his desk.

"Something wrong?" His wife asked.

"I don't know," Jackie answered. "I guess..." He sighed again. "Seeing 
those artifacts reminded me of how much I risked to get them." He 
removed his jacket and then his shirt, and stared at the collage of 
scars on his arms. There were similar ones on his legs from fourteen 
years of running around the globe battling demons and criminals. 
Section Thirteen's medical facility was the finest in the world, but 
they had limits.

A slender finger touched one of his scars. "I remember this one," she 
said. "I gave you this one, didn't I? Calcutta. The Shiva Medallion."

Jackie nodded. "And the one on my back was from Cairo."

She laughed softly. "Oh, before I forget. You need to attend another 
awards ceramony."

"I do?"

The woman once known as Viper smiled. "A very small, intimate ceramony."

Jackie smiled. "What would I ever do without you?"

****

Valmont laughed as removed his tuxedo and hung it on the outside of his 
door. In the morning, it would be sent out for cleaning.

Belting his robe, he poured a glass of fine english brandy and settled 
in an overstuffed chair to contemplate the evening's events.

It had been such a pleasure to tweak Black's nose. Valmont conceeded 
that perhaps he had taken a risk, but it had all paid off handsomely 
and Section Thirteen was still on the ball...as much as they had ever 
been. The mercenaries believed that they had been employed by a 
collector in Japan, and since the U.S. and Japan were glaring at each 
other over the recent secession by the Hawaiian Confederacy, any trail 
Black could follow ended at the edge of U.S. waters.

"I did make it easy for them," Valmont said to the empty room. "And yet 
my agent had to make several passes before your agents caught on. 
Dueling with the EU Criminal investigation Ministry was so much more 
challenging."

"Excuse me, sir." Valmont looked up to see his butler standing in the 
doorway, a package under one arm. "You have a delivery." The 
white-haired man walked over to Valmont's chair and offered it to him.

Setting aside the brandy, Valmont opened the package and lifted out the 
small jade statues. While Section Thirteen had been happily arresting 
the mercenaries, Dark Hand had been "relocating" these statues from 
their now former home in the San Jose Asian Cultural Museum, a mere 
sixty miles or so south of San Francisco.

"I don't play by the same rules, Captain Black," Valmont chuckled. "I 
have new ones now. You'll learn them eventually...but in the meantime, 
I'll have a great deal of fun." He studied the statues for one more 
moment and then replaced them in the box. "Have them shipped to their 
new home and make sure that payment is completed before delivery."

"Of course, sir," the butler said and quietly left the room.

Valmont picked his brandy back up. "Yes, a great deal of fun indeed."

****

The sign on the wall said that the maintence cooridoor was for the 
massive air ducts that pumped the air from the surface down into the 
myraid labyrinth that was Section Thirteen.

Jade Chan let out a small "oof" as Max slammed her against the wall and 
then muffled the moan that escaped from her throat as Max's fingers in 
her hair pulled her head back and his teeth found where her shoulder 
met her neck, pinching her skin, taking to her just to the edge of 
pain.

Adrenaline and passion surged through her and she all but screamed. She 
and Max had crossed paths with each other a few years ago in a small 
East Asian village. She had been trailing a jewel thief, he one of the 
stolen jewels, which had been part of a key to a mystical superweapon.

They had become lovers towards the end, and stayed that way, stealing 
whatever time they could whenever they crossed paths and keeping it a 
secret as best they could. Neither Virgil nor Section Thirteen could 
know. Both feared possible seaperation or worse should Section Thirteen 
discover them.

Their feelings for each other were real, pure, gentle things.

How they expressed those feelings was another matter entirely.

With an almost animal snarl, she pulled her neck from his teeth and bit 
savagely into his lower lip as his hands pulled her dress up.

Their sheer violence, their savagry, might seem shocking, but neither 
Max nor Jade were the type to take it slow and gentle.

"Never enough," Jade gasped. "Give it to me, all of it." and she let 
out another cry, no longer caring if anyone in the Section Thirteen 
complex heard her. The risk of discovery was always a factor, adding to 
the excitment.

Both led lives were any day, hour, even second, they might suddenly be 
dead. So they seized whatever chances they could, pouring their desires 
into fast, animalistic moments that left them both bruised and 
exhausted, but unsated.

"How long has it been anyway?" Max asked when they were done, still 
holding her against the bulkhead.

"Six months," Jade replied. "Vatican City." Her cheeks were flushed and 
her chest heaved against his as she gulped in air. She stared up at him 
through smokey eyes. "We nearly got discovered by that Bishop."

They stared at each other for a moment, hunger in their eyes.

"I did bring a spare, you know," Max said, reaching for his wallet.

Jade grabbed his head. "Then shut up and let's use it." She pulled his 
head down for a kiss.

"Good heavens!" exclaimed a voice.

Max and Jade stared. Virgil, Norman, and Captain Black stood at the 
bend in the hallway along with a three person security detatchment.

Jade said a dirty word.


-Steve "Komodo" T.
http://www.geocities.com/studio_pc_hub/


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