Starting Fires

"So, you're Atlantean?" I asked.

"Quite," Titan replied, grabbing a grey uniform provided by an orderly. "And I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't tell anyone about us because we're trusting you with the fate of our country already and I'm sure keeping your mouth shut would be no problem."

"Wonderful," Harrison muttered, adjusting the strap on his Javelin.

"So how do we get there?" I asked.

"That's the hard part," the Marine said, grimacing and rubbing his head. "You see, Atlantis was supposed to be destroyed, but instead it got teleported to some weird-ass dimension that was completely underwater. We have a magic shield system for that, thank God. Anyways, we were able to build a portal that would send people back to Earth. We have another one open that's exploring a dead world, but we thought we found something. The portal we have open to Earth opens up on the roof of the Reichstag in Germany."

"And the people who want us dead spoke German," Harrison pointed out. "Well, that doesn't seem all that good... and all."

We stood in silence, pondering our situation.

"You better get your trigger fingers ready," Titan said at last, turning back to the exit. "I had a hard enough time getting here with Die Kraft, Die Treibt on my ass from Berlin to Paris, then nearly getting shot down from Paris to Brussels, a failed hijacking from Brussels to Madrid, and a quiet ride to London. Then, I took an F-16 over the Atlantic. Air travel sucks on commercial airliners, but the food is actually rather satisfying, I don't know why everyone complains about it."

"Wait, Die Kraft, Die Treibt?" I confirmed. "The German terrorist group has been following you?"

"I suspect they... might be connected... you'll find out," the General stuttered, not sure how to answer me. "It's a long story, we'll tell you later. For now, we need to try to get on top of the Reichstag without being noticed. I had enough trouble doing this as a tourist."

"Why the Reichstag?" I asked.

"It's an old joke, only a select few would get it," Titan brushed it off. "You go back to the elevator and find a car."

"Sweet," Harrison celebrated quietly.

"If either of you lay hands on the wheel, keep in mind I know five different ways to break your neck," came the joking admonition.

***

Luckily the rush hour traffic had not yet hit and the drive to the Marriott Hartford Downtown hotel was patchy but not too congested. When we got out in front of the hotel, Titan pulled his briefcase, filled with his uniform and armaments and Tac-Gs for Harrison and I, and pulled the keys out of the ignition of the Ford Escape and threw them to the valet who fumbled with a surprise reflex.

"Keep the car," the Atlantean stated, handing the guy a stack of $100 bills. The valet accepted with vigor, receiving a smile and a pat on the back from Titan as we entered the hotel.

"You're floatin' some serious cash, man," I commented.

"One room, please," Titan told the desk clerk.

"We don't exactly take walk-ins," she said, not bothering to look up from her computer.

"Well, can you find a room for a party of George Washingtons?" Titan asked, pulling out a couple of $100 stacks.

"That's Ben Franklin," I whispered.

"Ben Franklin's on the 100?" he muttered, confused. "Then where's George?"

"One dollar bill," I answered in a hushed tone. "And the quarter."

"You Americans never cease to amaze me," the Atlantean sighed, slapping the money on the counter. "You put a fat fireman on the most coveted piece of paper and your first ever executive leader and the model for which your presidents have set themselves on something that is so worthless, it couldn't even buy you a... oh, never mind. Pardon me, miss, it's Ben Franklin and friends." He turned back to me. "I mean, it's like putting Franklin Delano Roosevelt on the 10 cent piece."

I cringed, getting a huff and a stomp as my response from the foriegner.

The clerk looked up to the gross amount of money on the desk.

"I'll clear the penthouse if you want," she said, absolutely stunned. "Who are you exactly that carries that much green but doesn't book in advance."

"Government agent," Titan lied, winking at me. "I'm being paid whatever it takes to stop German terrorists from toppling NATO countries all around the world."

"CIA?" the young lady asked, leaning forward and clinging to every word the "agent" said.

"CIA wishes it was me," Titan chuckled. "But I'm going to ask you not to repeat anything I said or tell anyone I was here or else the USA goes boom. Get it."

"Got it."

"Good. Penthouse, you said?"

"Right this way."

***

Day 2
August 4, 2010

It was quite a refreshing night's sleep for me. Titan and the clerk stayed up for a glass of wine before she realized she had to work, while I spammed room service for various amenities, including a bottle of Jameson whiskey, which was promptly snagged away by Titan, who warned that a good Marine was one who didn't have a hangover in the morning. He didn't say anything about me being underage, though... Atlantis must be a fun place.

In the morning, I woke up, wearing the hotel's bathrobe, and wandered out into the light of the morning sun pouring through the windows.

"Morning," Harrison greeted, already showered and dressed.

"How the fuck do you bring yourself up before the sun rises?" I asked, rubbing my eyes.

"I'm just a morning person, I guess," my brother said, shrugging.

Titan sat on the couch, an untouched bowl of Cheerios in his lap, as he stewed over a breaking news report.

"German officials fear that Die Kraft, Die Treibt is gaining strong influence in the populace," the reporter informed. "The killing of three protesters affiliated with the group were shot down by German police last night, causing a giant whiplash among most Germans, praising the organization as their 'saviors' and 'the ones that will bring down the tyranny of the simple-minded.'"

"What has this world come to?" Titan muttered, standing and completely forgetting about his breakfast as the bowl hit the floor and shattered, sending milk and Cheerios all over the place. I decided not to argue.

I picked up the phone and dialed room service again, asking for a hearty breakfast of bacon, bagels, and orange juice. Titan continued to aimlessly wander about the apartment, grabbing the box of cereal as though he might want to try again with the breakfast, but never followed through with it. He looked a bit crazy walking around with a box of Cheerios in one hand and a far-away look in his eyes.

My breakfast was gone within short minutes and I went for my shower, enjoying the hot water for a little while and washing my hair. I got out, dressed in the white tunic, trousers, socks, and black combat boots. Over that, I put on my equipment and tried on my Tac-G. The wrist-pad went on my left wrist while some other tubular device went on my right.

"Hey, Titan, what's this thing?" I asked, waving about my right hand.

"That's a grenade launcher," he answered, still staring at nothing. "It's hooked up to your Tactical Gauntlet. Please don't fuck with it. All dressed? Good. Time to go."

With that, he walked out of the room to the elevator. Harrison and I joined him in going up to the roof of the building where we stood for a moment as Titan played with his Tac-G for a minute or two.

"So, what did you do?" I asked, looking at my own touchscreen.

"Checked my email," Titan answered, looking up.

"Why are we on the roof?" Harrison asked.

"Do you really think I came here alone?" Titan chuckled.

As if on cue, a CH-46 Sea Knight hovered over our heads and landed very close to us, its rotors dying as its wheels hit the ground. The back ramp dropped and two Marines stepped out. The first was a young man, about 18 years old with the single chevron of a Private on his arms, wearing a red tunic and trousers denoting a Pyromancer. The other was a girl, about my age wearing a black uniform with a Private's insignia as well. I didn't yet know to which magic black was associated but it must have been a really good type because she was smoking hot. Pardon the unprofessional statement, but that's just the truth.

"Meet Blackjack," Titan introduced us, gesturing to the man. "And Haven." He gestured to the girl. "Blackjack is one of my choice members of this team and always listens to his superiors. Haven is our youngest Marine at just 12 years old. Don't judge us for letting her in so young; she's the best sniper in Atlantis and I need all the talent I can get. And Mage, don't gawk. Haven, Blackjack, these are the new recruits: Mage and Storm. I'm sure you four will get along just fine."

Blackjack shot me a rather pretentious look, but didn't maintain it when my eyes flashed venomously. Haven noticed the tension between the two of us and gave a quick smile, which I returned graciously.

"So, we take this down to JFK Airport and catch a jet to Paris," Titan stated after the greetings were finished. "From there, we drive to Berlin. Hopefully we don't run into any trouble along the way, but if we do, Haven and Jack have their weapons and yours are in my bag. I'm also carrying suppressors if we get the jump on the Germans. All set?" We nodded. "Let's do this."

The flight from Hartford to New York was quiet, save for the deafening roar of the tandem rotors over our heads, severely limiting conversation. Passing through airport security was a cinch, thanks to a cloaking spell provided by Haven that masked the guns from the metal detectors. We made the flight and boarded without being attacked, and crossing the Atlantic, while a very slow journey, was not very remarkable. We were all separated so as not to create a cluster of easy targets, so we couldn't talk to each other. In time we landed in Paris, greeted by a dark sky and a City of Lights.

"What time is it?" Harrison asked, rubbing his back.

"Oh One-Hundred Hours," Blackjack guessed. "Oh Two-Hundred Hours? I dunno, Oh Dark Thirty, that's what time it is."

"Beg pardon?" I asked. "What time is Oh Dark Thirty."

"It's what smartasses like Jack call way too early in the morning," Haven chuckled. "Now come on, guys."

We exited Charles de Gaulle airport, just outside of Paris and walked to the nearest metro station where we boarded a train. Titan didn't say a word about where we were going and didn't get off at any stops for a while, so we stuck with him on the ride. After plenty of stops, Titan finally rose when the intercom buzzed, "La Tour Eiffel." I was a little disoriented from the nighttime scene in France and really did not want to stop and translate some subway announcement, so the rest of us blindly followed our Commander off the train. Jack and Haven exchanged a quick look.

What I saw next took my breath away. We rose from the tunnel and looked up at a great glowing figure reaching into the sky: The Eiffel Tower. It was so beautiful at night, all lit up against the black sky, especially on a clear evening like this with all the stars smiling down at this landmark. Titan continued to lead us to the tower, reaching into his jacket pocket to collect something.

The line to the stairs was long, the line to the elevators stronger still, but we bypassed these, only to be confronted by a security guard.

"Sir, the line starts back there," Joseph Foilin, the underpaid night shift elevator guard, mumbled, waving the tourists away.

"Pardon me, Monsieur Foilin," Titan replied in perfect French, "but I thought you would recognize me. I own half of the shops on the first floor of the tower."

"I need to see some identification," Foilin sighed at this ridiculous Brit throwing high school French at him. The man took out his wallet and flipped the driver's license at the guard. "Monsieur Fouquette! But of course! Right this way. Excuse me for being so rude."

"Think nothing of it," Titan chuckled handing Joseph a couple of fat stacks of Euros. "Come children, the view is so much more beautiful at night."

Foilin got us a space on the next elevator ride and, as we ascended, counted the cash. When we reached the first floor, we got off. Jack looked around before heading towards an elevator maintenance room. We all jammed inside, complaining about the cramped space. Jack, Titan, and Haven swore in French as they struggled to the back of the room. When they did, Jack dusted himself off and opened a combination lock to one of the the lockers.

Inside that locker stood a human-like figure, about 1.5 meters tall. It had a male face, short brown hair, and wore a silvery jumpsuit. Its right eye was hazel and its left eye glowed red.

"Hi!" it exclaimed, stepping out of the cabinet. "I'm Eddie, Model 404, series 1337. How's it going?"

"Hey, Eddie," Jack said, rolling up his sleeve to play with his Tactical Gauntlet. "Gonna do a quick diagnostic check, here. What is the capital of Russia."

"Batman," the apparent robot replied with a wide grin on his face.

"No, Moscow," the young Marine sighed, looking back down at the screen on his wrist. "Name the man who originally organized the order of the Hashshashin in the 11th century."

"Elvis Presley?" Eddie guessed.

"No!" Jack growled.

"Oh!" Eddie corrected himself. "It was Johnny Cash, wasn't it."

"Hassan-i Sabbah," Blackjack continued, looking annoyed. "What is two times two?"

Eddie's grin was replaced by a contemplative expression, followed by frustration.

"How about two plus two?" I interjected.

"Oh, well now that's five!" Eddie perked right back up with the response.

Jack walked out of the maintenance room and threw his arms up in the air, spitting out a few choice words in several different languages, mostly Russian and Arabic.

"Jack come on," Haven called back out. "Remember what Ben said when he briefed us. Our android technology is very limited. I mean, there was a very low chance that he'd function correctly in the first place."

He was interrupted by a man with striking Germanic features pointed the business end of a Heckler and Koch G36 assault rifle at his face.

The rest of us peeked around the corner as the German interrogated our friend in his native language. Three others patrolled the area, keeping the crowd in check by firing at the feet of anyone who came to close, which didn't happen often.

"Eddie, can you take those guys out?" Titan asked, pointing at the Germans.

"No problemo, boss-man," the android replied, cocking a mechanism on his left hand. He aimed his arm down at the armed fellow shouting at Jack and flicked his wrist to activate the tube on his wrist... which ejected a bouquet of plastic flowers that he caught in his hand.

"What are you going to do, flatter them to death?" Titan growled, throwing his bag on the ground and passing the suppressed Barrett M82A1 to Haven. "This is how it's done."

Four well-placed, nearly silent shots later, Jack was free from his predicament and four dead Germans lay on the first floor of the Eiffel tower. There came a sudden crash as the elevator exploded and the stairs were ripped apart by a volley of Dynamit Nobel Panzerfaust 3 rockets. The anti-tank missiles ripped apart all routes of escape. The explosions were followed by a German voice speaking heavily accented English into the Eiffel Tower's intercom system.

"To ze armed force on ze first floor of ze tower," it announced, "please remain vhere you are and do not shtruggle vith our forces. Ve greatly outnumber you. A helicopter vill be coming shortly to collect you and detain you in Munich. You vill be held by ze rest of our agents for the time being. Do not provoke them or ve vill destroy ze Eiffel Tower and kill you. Zey are not afraid to die, but I'm sure you are not ze same." It clicked off.

"What do we do?" Harrison asked, panicked.

Titan hefted the Javelin and plopped it into his arms. "We give 'em hell," was the reply.

"But what about... y'know, blowing up the Eiffel Tower?" I pointed out, chambering a round in my PPSh.

"They wouldn't seriously do that," Blackjack chuckled, strapping a huge ammo box to his back and inserting the round belt into his M249 SAW. "That would, well, start a war between Germany and France. Again."

What Titan hefted out of his bag next surprised me greatly: it was a minigun that he strapped to his waist. The six-barreled machine gun was on a pivot that was connected to a belt on his waist. It was fed the same way that Jack fed his SAW: an ammo box on his back with the belt going into the side.

"Well, not much else to do, I suppose," I sighed, deciding not to ask questions about his weapon of choice.

A wave of Germans approached, yelling at us in their own language, probably to put down our weapons and go peacefully. Haven shot two in the head before Harrison launched a missile that took out the rest.

"That's some nice shootin' right there!" Eddie pointed out, holding up a ping pong paddle with the number 10 written on it.

"Zis is your shecond varning," the German voice on the intercom growled. "Do not resist. Ve vill not shay zis again."

We went to look over the edge of the tower to see an entire crowd of the German terrorists surrounding the landmark, all aiming their Panzerfaust 3s up at us.

"Connard!" Titan yelled, quite appropriately in French. Motherfucker!

"What do we do?" Haven asked, visibly nervous.

"We jump," the Commander sighed. "Storm, cast a spell that can carry us across the crowd. On my go. Set? Go!"

I grabbed Eddie and plunged over the edge, feeling the air tighten beneath me as we were carried towards the Seine River. The Germans fired, the rockets just missing us... only to hit the Eiffel Tower. There was a great groan as the tower leaned over, broken. Then, a great crash as it snapped, falling over.

"Faster, Storm, faster!" Titan yelled, watching the great metal monument follow them down.

"This is as fast as it goes!" Harrison called back, trying to make the wind blow stronger.

There were some curses passed around the group as we began firing down on the Germans beneath us. The Eiffel Tower completed its descent, just missing us as we dropped on the opposite bank of the Seine River.

"That was fucking close," I gasped, regaining my balance.

Eddie dusted off his shoulders and continued grinning as if nothing happened.

"So what the fuck do we do now?" Haven asked, reloading her sniper rifle. "Are... are we gonna walk to Berlin? 'Cause I think that everyone in France wants to know what we were thinking when we let those shits back there destroy their most loved landmark, and every German terrorist wants our heads ground into sausage and put on a silver platter."

"Calm down, Haven," Titan sighed, leading us through the streets of Paris. "I don't know what we're going to do, but I'll figure it out. We've had worse, right?"

Jack scoffed and turned around. "I should've joined Etrius. Poking through castles sounds a lot easier than fucking through Europe with a bunch angry Germans."