Doom 2099UG #8

"Doom is dead"

Justin repeated the words dispassionately. He was standing over the gruesomely mutilated armored body that lay motionless on the net glider bed. A slow drip of blood steadily fell from the cold corpse, black and thick into a sticky pool on the floor near Justin's feet.

"Nobody moves!" the burly security guard ordered the three net gliders with deadly seriousness. A large, chrome finished laser weapon swept over the three teammates with steady precision. "Nobody leaves this room until we find out what happened here!"

"No . . . we can still save him!" Elisabeth ignored the warnings of the security guard. She had recovered from her momentary shock and focused her thoughts, easily taking on the role of Net Leader once more. She pushed her fractured emotions deep, lest they shake her concentration. She stood across from Justin and surveyed the inert body with a critical eye. "His icon is still intact, somewhere in cyberspace. With the Epsilon Nine recovery program still running, if it works, we can . . ."

"I turned it off," Justin interrupted quietly.

" . . . recall his consciousness into another vessel, a cyber vessel or . . . You what?!"

"I turned it off." Justin shrugged his shoulders. "I mean, look, it's hopeless anyway . . ."

"You . . . you . . . just killed him . . ." Elisabeth threw her hands into the air in exasperated frustration.

"Somebody murdered him," Mahlon voiced the subject they had all avoided up to this point. He looked from the net leader to the body in stuttered fear. "Somebody, somebody in this room, killed him," he continued, finally voicing the obvious.

"Impossible," Elisabeth stated with forced bravado. "We were all together."

"Everyone in this room is a suspect," the security guard reported coldly. "There is only one entrance, and we were standing guard the whole time. This is a capital crime, and an act of treason! The murderer came from within this room, of that we can be certain!"

"No. We were all on the net, we were together the whole time," Elisabeth shook her head.

"Umm . . . no we weren't," Mahlon interjected. "When we set the triad, to establish the bridge into the Neon Angel's program, we split up. We were each separate for . . . maybe, twenty minutes?"

"And don't forget about Elemental!" Justin added accusingly. "We haven't seen him since we separated! Where is he now? He could have come and been gone without anyone noticing!"

"Ephraim couldn't have done this!" Elisabeth defended.

"Well look, 'Commander', I didn't kill him! And the shock if I get blamed for this!" Justin declared angrily. "What if Elemental turned traitor? He could have given the Neon Angel the technology that created him! There might be more just like him all over the net by now!"

"We'll know soon enough," the security guard stated, his weapon still primed and aimed at the group. "How are you coming on those security monitors?" he asked his partner.

The other guard was busy at a locked box on a wall near the door. "They're almost ready . . . there!" he finished with confidence. He stepped back to view an overhead monitor. Everyone's eyes were drawn to a number of viewscreens around the room that began to brighten as the images took form there.

The pictures flickered to life, showing a full view of the room. There in the center of the screen lay Doom, quiet but apparently unharmed at the glider bed. The other three net gliders were visible in the background, all prone and motionless on their beds as their separate consciousness' traveled through the electronic cyber realm. The recording continued for several minutes unchanged until . . . the image suddenly turned to snow!

"What?!" the security guard started to frantically push the buttons on the console, but nothing happened. The recording was lost to some sinister sabotage!

"I don't shockin' believe it! Fix it, bithead!" the first guard spoke angrily. "Fix it now or we'll be kissing the garrison for sure!"

"I'm trying! I'm trying!" the other answered, the hint of panic in his voice, as he tugged at some wires desperately.

The three net gliders stood for a moment in wordless silence. Then their eyes turned to each other, and each one began to wonder if the other could have committed this heinous feat. Even Elisabeth began to look at her trusted teammates with uncharacteristic suspicion.

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Duke Stratosphere was about to give up. He wandered the cyber halls of Doom's castle at the heel of the program's tour guide in abject silence. He had been sure that there would be some clue in the castle that would tell him more about the mysterious black box he had recovered from the cybernetic guts of Myridia. Now, he wasn't sure if he would ever find out what it was, and he was seriously contemplating copying the box to hard disk and filing it away in his cache of "irretrievable programs". His cyber guide had taken him through three galleries and four libraries, providing him full access thanks to the codes purloined from the Paloma program. But it was all for naught, and Duke was beginning to feel the ache in his bones, even though his icon lacked the neuroreceptors of a real body. His real body was holed up on Pixel's floating blimp, the Cicada, permanently moored at their summer headquarters in northern Spain. He had checked back on his semi-comatose flesh periodically, to ensure that it had not been disturbed, but he would have to return to it soon, if for nothing else than to eat and bathe, or the smell might begin to draw unwanted attention! The cyber guide before him chatted personably about the gleaming rows of armor and medieval tapestries adorning the wide hallway through which they were passing, but he barely heard her.

"This represents one of the Master's early armor designs, and to the left you can see our Lord's coronation suit from when Prince Rudolfo abdicated the throne in . . ."

Duke looked briefly up at the wall. "Maybe if I make the jump to . . ." he mumbled absently to himself, and suddenly stopped. He stood as if struck by lightning, staring open mouthed at the wall in front of him. A wide smile suddenly creased his rugged features.

He had found himself standing in front of an enormous tapestry. It hung from a rod twenty feet above him, with gold tassels brushing languidly across the stone floor. There was an elaborate border sewn in gold thread on a deep maroon background, in a style that was as ancient as it was timeless. But the style was of less interest to Duke than the content. His eyes took in a panorama of an ancient battleground, with warriors from another era on horseback and on foot, fighting a dark and faceless enemy. The armor that the warriors wore was at once distinctive and familiar to Duke: he recognized it as the same style of armor worn by the slain soldiers he had stumbled upon in the slowly disintegrating Myridian program. The same program where he had retrieved the mysterious black box {See Doom UG #5}. A few of the buildings were even rendered along the edge of the battle, and Duke recognized them also from that program. Even the arched bridge where he had made his desperate escape from permanent deletion was visible in the distant background. Dominating the center of the tapestry was a single armored figure that somehow held sway over the entire battlefield. Amazingly, it was a woman, in a pure silver armor that covered all but her head and a cascade of curly black hair. Rays of light surrounded her body, which was depicted as if glowing from within. Her arms were spread wide, and in one hand she gripped a heavy broadsword, blade pointed down. The other hand was open, palm up, and empty, as if offering something. Despite the battle raging all around her, her face was calm and peaceful. Her eyes were closed. She was stunningly beautiful, almost angelic, and imbued the tapestry with a palpable grace and majesty.

Duke was intrigued. Not only was he that much closer to finding out the secret of the box, but he had a new mystery to solve. What exactly was the story behind the tapestry? And who was this beautiful woman?

"What does this tapestry represent?" he asked aloud, forcing a nonchalant interest in his voice. Although the guide was a simple program, there was no telling what type of attitude recognition capabilities it might be imbued with. No need to trigger any alarms at this point.

The Guide had rewound, and back tracked respectfully to where Duke stood in the hall. She looked up at the wall hanging. "This depicts a story from gypsy history, a battle that predates modern civilization," she explained. "It is a story from the colonization of eastern Europe by the roving gypsy tribes of Zefiro, Sinte and Boyash."

"Which ones are the gypsies?" Duke asked.

"Why, the armored warriors, of course," the Guide answered pleasantly.

"Ahh . . . I didn't know that the gypsies wore such elaborate armor," he commented.

"Many of the gypsies were skilled metalsmiths," the Guide continued patiently. "They sold their wares as they traveled, but saved the finest armor for their own use, usually hidden away so as to avoid detection by the authorities."

"And who is the woman in the center?" Duke asked cagily.

The Guide looked at him with a vacant stare and a vapid smile on her pretty face. "Searching . . ." she said blankly.

Before she could complete her search, there was a brilliant flash and a palpable shudder as if the castle had been struck by lightning, coming from the other end of the hallway. Duke instinctively covered his head as mortar fragments rained down from above, and the heavy tapestry waved menacingly in a brief wind.

"What the shock?" Duke muttered from under his wide hat.

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"I remember . . ." The essence of his being coalesced around this memory, grabbed it like a lifeline, and struggled to focus on the certainty of it. Struggled to pull the memory and hence himself out from an abyss that was dark and dimensionless space.

"I am Doom. I am Doom!" This is the mantra which keeps me sane. The words seem surreal, as if they mean nothing. But saying them somehow makes me think that there was such a thing as Doom, such a thing as the man I barely remember. It is something around which my mind can focus, as if in somehow being this "Doom" I can understand something important. Something other than dreams and pain and creatures in the darkness that I can neither touch nor hear nor see. Creatures that bring the pain, and the pain that means only that I am still alive. Alive and in a hell that would continue until I died. But then when I died, and there was that moment of peace where I knew that I had died, and in dying escaped the pain, I was reborn again. Reborn into a world of pain where all I can remember is the name. The name and the pain that was draped over the very fiber of my being, pain that was the totality of my existence, the only real thing I knew. Other than the words I repeated over and over in my mind, response to a long forgotten command or question. "I am Doom."

"I am Doom!" And I am falling . . . falling? Falling naked from the sky, my skin on fire as if new born. The land rushes up to meet me. There is a whoosh of air as the impact slams through my lungs. I have no breath . . . I am a dream! No, there is pain still. Pain that returns as gasping for breath I pull the sweet air back into my fractured lungs. Pain and the smell of blood and earth. The smell of Earth! Home! I am alive!

"I am Doom!"

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"I am . . . Home?" Doom looked up from the smoke and debris that surrounded him in sudden confusion. He recognized at once the thick stone walls and medieval hallways of his Latverian castle. But was this his true castle or some infernal cybernetic representation? His icon had bounced from one vague corner of the cyber universe to the other in an attempt to return to normal c-space after the Neon Angel's program had disintegrated beneath his metal boots {see last issue!}. He had seemed to have little control over where the Epsilon Nine retrieval program deposited him. Instead, his icon was being swept through the dark void with every stray thought he had, and the rapid spatial dislocation had a distinctly disorienting side effect that would have driven any lesser man insane. But he was Doom, and all it had done so far was to put him in a very foul mood.

From the other end of the hallway, Duke instantly recognized the icon of Doom, master of this house. He wasn't certain whether this was some security function of the program, having somehow detected his presence, or if this was the indeed the real Doom. He wasn't about to wait around to find out though, and he began to enter escape coordinates into a control band he wore on his wrist.

"Searching . . ." the Guide said insipidly, still trying to answer Duke's question, apparently unaware that the Lord of the Castle had suddenly materialized in their midst.

Doom turned unexpectedly and his eyes narrowed in upon Duke Stratosphere, standing, incredulously, in his Castle! "You!" Doom spat with unrestrained contempt. "You are the ingrate who handed me over to the assassin, Fever {see Doom 2099 # 7}! Say your prayers, net glider, you are about to pay for that transgression with your life!" Quick as a cobra, Doom raised his armored gauntlets to fire upon the unwelcome intruder.

"Uh . . . wait . . ." Duke began, desperately finalizing his escape coordinates. Yet before that battle could be engaged, there was another brilliant flash and a whirlwind cyclone swept the hall between them. When the smoke had cleared, Doom had once again disappeared, as if he had never been there. Duke stopped his frantic programming and stared back down the hallway. There was no sign of Doom. Stranger still, he could detect nothing that indicated that the program had been breached, or that any internal security had been activated.

"That was too weird," Duke muttered aloud.

"Searching . . ." the Guide continued. "There is no information on the identity of this individual. Accurate gypsy history is notoriously lapse in many areas, since the gypsies did not use traditional methods to record their histories until late in the 20th century. Shall we continue with the tour?"

Duke looked back down the hall where Doom had been. "What was that anyway?" he thought. "Some glitch? Did I trigger some half finished security program? Or am I getting close to something? Hmmm . . ." Duke's stellar career up to that point had been benefitted by his good instincts, and his faith in those insights. When he began to get nervous like this, it meant that he was getting close to something big. Just how big he wasn't sure. But if it was any indication, he was really nervous!

"I want to know more about this tapestry," Duke commanded.

"Incomplete data available. Access denied."

"Oh? Is that so?" Duke smiled in bemused defiance.

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In Southeast Africa, not far from the heavily fortified border that separated Mozambique from TKU, the Tanzania-Kenya-Uganda Environmental and Conservation Cooperative, a lone figure walked slowly through the thick, waist high golden grass. William Winston Sinclair III carried a heavy stun rifle cradled easily in his arms, and his calm gray eyes scanned the wild landscape continuously beneath his wide brimmed hat. The sun blazed down out of a crystal blue sky, and the back of his neck was turning slightly red where the brown curls of his hair failed to cover the skin above his collar. He stepped carefully through the brush, like a skilled hunter, deftly following a barely defined trail in the tall grass. The distant yip of a clan of hyaena made him stop in his tracks, expertly judging the distance and direction to those potentially deadly predators. Unconcerned, he continued forward on his trek.

Sinclair reached a small hill, and began to steadily climb it. The African landscape was littered with these kopjes, a rocky outcropping that was a refuge for the smaller animals living along the edge of the plains: baboons, meerkat, pikas, jackals and even leopards. This one was taller than most, and seemed to be devoid of the normal population of small creatures that usually occupied them. Sinclair looked around carefully, listening and testing the wind as he continued to scramble up the large boulders. He kept his gun at the ready, setting it down only to adjust a handhold as he climbed. A large bird circled overhead, crying a high piercing warning. A slight wind stirred the leaves of the young trees that pushed up between the massive grey rock. Sinclair stopped and crouched on top of one of those boulders, instantly aware that the wind had suddenly changed direction. That small puff of breeze, and he knew at once that his position had been revealed to his intended prey!

No matter how many times he had stared into the eyes of a fully grown male lion, it had never failed to bring his heart to the edge of panic. Even from the safety of a plexiglass enclosure, there was something primeval about those piercing amber eyes that could stare right through you. Now he faced a rogue lion, a big solitary male that had been stalking and killing men for the last three months, and he knew that the line between predator and prey was suddenly blurred. The lion had appeared like lightning from the other side of the kopje, and stared down at the man on the rocks below it. It's mouth was slightly open, red tongue and huge white teeth neatly framed by that full, dark mane. For Sinclair, it was an instant that lasted an eternity. He lifted the barrel of his high powered stun rifle in one swift, easy motion. The lion made no sound as rippling muscles tensed beneath it's tawny hide, massive paws gathered beneath it's body to leap. Sinclair aimed the weapon, knowing he would only get one shot. In that moment his mind flashed to a decade ago on his father's estate in Scotland, where his parents were appalled to learn that their only son had joined the radical TKU, shunning a wealthy inheritance that had been passed on from father to son for generations. The lion leaped into the air. With a silent whoosh, the stun gun fired at almost the same moment. The big cat twisted in mid air as the electrical charge coursed through it's body, but it's momentum kept it hurtling through the open space down towards the man. Sinclair ducked, but was clipped by one limp paw with enough force to tumble him off of the boulder into a copse of bushes below.

"Billy! Billy! Answer to my call, please, Billy! Have you been injured?" A worried voice with a thick Indian accent pierced Sinclair's communications implant.

Sinclair groaned, and picked himself up out of the bushes. He quickly retrieved his rifle and looked for the lion. The big male cat was motionless on the grass beside him, and a quick look at that huge heaving chest verified that it was still breathing. Billy picked up his fallen hat and brushed himself off with a few quick pats before replacing it onto his head.

"Billy! Please to answer now!"

"I'm fine, Musleh", he finally answered. "I just took a little tumble."

"Praise Allah," his partner sighed over the headset. "For a moment I thought you had met the maker."

"Well, the maker is going to have to wait a little while longer for me," Billy laughed easily. "If the devil doesn't get me first."

"And speaking of devils, what of our lion?" Musleh asked.

Billy stepped over to put a hand on the big cat cautiously. "He's fine," he answered. "Get over here to pick him up and we'll get him back to the boys in the lab before he wakes up."

"I am already getting there," Musleh answered.

Billy looked up to see a rapidly approaching hover truck skimming silently towards the kopje. The little hover vessel was traveling rapidly over the rough terrain, floating only a few meters above the grass. He could see his partner in the open cockpit waving at him, and he lifted his hat to wave back. Turning away, he walked around the kopje once more, climbing to the top where a light breeze ruffled his loose shirt, drying the sweat that had soaked his back. Near the summit, he looked into a thick nest of bushes, hollowed out in the shape of the lion's body. This had been the big cat's nest, a cool spot for it to escape the hot African sun. The thick curtain of small trees and bushes had been enough to thwart any airborne surveillance they had attempted in the last few months. They ended up being forced to track the rogue lion the old fashioned way. A little ways off to the side, Billy found more of what he was looking for. A stash of bones was stacked under a hastily scraped pile of leaves and dirt. There was a half crushed human skull, along with the gnawed bones of other animals that had fed the big lion.

"This was the one all right," Billy said absently into his communicator. "I can see four, maybe five human remains up here. We'll have to send Lupe over to collect them all for identification . . . what the . ..?" Billy stopped in mid-sentence.

Something in the pile caught his attention. A long bone was sticking up out of the leaves, not unusual except that there was something not right about it. He reached in and pulled it out. It was a human bone all right, a femur from the upper right leg. It was in perfect condition, but then again Billy thought, it was too perfect. It was too white, and it seemed denser than normal human bones. All trace of flesh had been removed from the bone long ago, but it was still hard, and not the least bit brittle from sun nor time. And even though it had lain in the lion's lair, Billy could detect only the faintest scratches upon it's surface. It was as if the bone had resisted all attempts at gnawing.

"What the what?" Musleh queried on the other end. "What have you found?"

Billy turned the bone over in his hands. There was a series of marks on one side, alternating lines in a pattern of thick and thin etched in a deep black ink. Bar code, Billy thought with puzzled anxiety. "I don't know," he finally answered, turning the strange bone over and over in his hands. "But I intend to find out."

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In Myridia, the sweaty security guard was desperately trying to retrieve the video data from the security monitors, but he was having no luck. The other guard tried not to show the true fear he felt at having somehow been thwarted by a secret assassin while their Master lay defenseless. "At least," he thought with base self-preservation, "at least Lord Doom himself is no longer here to punish us. Maybe there will be mercy from the council." He turned to his companion, finally realizing that a quick solution to this case may not be forthcoming. "I'm going to call for back-up," he announced. "We'll have to send in a team to sweep the room," he added as he opened up his communications line.

"There will be no need for that, soldier." The booming voice came into the room from the open doorway behind them. Everyone in the room looked towards the doorway, where a tall figure in silver and blue armor, with a green cape draping down over broad shoulders stood silhouetted by the light in the hallway. Then Lord Doom stepped into the room and marched towards the little group that still stood in shock around what they had thought was his body on the net glider table. The net gliders looked from the armored figure on the bed to the one that strode into their midst in a moment of dismay. The mask and armor were perfectly alike, but no one could so thoroughly duplicate that authoritative voice and confident stride.

"My lord . . . ?" Elisabeth said breathlessly. "Is that you?"

"Of course it is, who else would it be?"

"We . . . we thought you were dead!" Mahlon stuttered breathlessly.

"Premature," Doom countered, stepping up to the table where the other "Doom" lay. "Although someone has gone to considerable effort to make it so."

"My lord!" Elisabeth said with considerable relief. "I never thought you would make it! How did you escape c- space? We turned off the Epsilon program thinking you were gone!"

"Yes, so I noted. The program had recovered my icon and set the coordinates for my safe return, although the path was somewhat fragmented," Doom understated smoothly. "Still, once I tuned into the appropriate data stream I was able to navigate back to real space. It is not the usual method I prefer for testing a new program, but the results were satisfactory."

"But where were you?" Mahlon asked.

"My body was held in an adjacent room, in a secure chamber," Doom replied. "As you may recall I was already in cyberspace when you joined me there."

He turned briefly to face the two security guards. "Consider this a test which you have failed," he told them coldly, and motioned to two other guards at the doorway. "Take them both away, I will not suffer such incompetence in my presence!" Doom turned back to the table, ignoring the stuttering protestations from the two former security guards as they were forcibly led away. He eyed the three net gliders through glowing red eyepieces. Stepping up to the bed, he placed a massive hand gently on the back of Justin's neck, and looked closely down at the body that was not him.

"Someone went to a great deal of trouble for this," he repeated, a calm sort of amusement in his voice. He examined the chest wound closely. "They used a very rare and potent acid, which did considerable damage to the mock up armor this poor fellow wore. And then a well placed knife, serrated by the look of it. Very effective."

"Lord Doom," Elisabeth declared with surprise, "you knew this was going to happen?"

"I had surmised that an assassination attempt was imminent, yes," Doom replied, casually removing the cybernetic connections from his double's mask.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"No one is above suspicion," Doom replied ominously. "Including you, my dear. Of this I had to be certain. I will not jeopardize my regime here to defend against a multitude of petty political squabbles and hidden agendas. I like to have my enemies out in the open, where I can see them. Wouldn't you agree, Justin?" Doom's hand closed ever so slightly on the back of Justin's neck.

"Y- yes, of course," Justin answered, returning Doom's steely gaze with tight jawed fortitude.

"Well who was in the armor then?" Mahlon asked from the other side of the bed.

"Let's see, shall we?" Doom said with an amused flourish. He connected a hidden port on the finger of one glove into a receptacle on the mask just behind the ear. With a faint release of compressed air the mask lifted off of its locks, and Doom gently pulled the duplicate mask away. The net gliders gasped almost in unison, and Elisabeth looked away as the dead eyes of the former Master Programmer Number 3 {who was forcibly ousted by Doom in UG issue #5} stared back at them. "Alas poor Yorick," Doom quoted wryly, "a fellow of infinite jest . . . it appears that the joke is on you this time."

"Why? Why him? He was locked up," Elisabeth protested weakly. "He could do nothing against you anymore!"

"You knew him? You admit that?" Doom demanded.

"Yes, I knew him," Elisabeth replied defensively, "he was a friend, he helped me get into the program. We all knew him," she added weakly.

"Your honesty is admirable," Doom commended, "but your loyalty is misplaced. He was a traitor, and he had an accomplice in this room." Doom placed the mask on an active terminal, pushing a button which connected it to the viewscreen. "The former Master Programmer had numerous contacts even while in prison here. I had agents who followed their movements, and followed the acid which was to be used against me. In the end, I identified all of his allies but one, one who knew the system too well, one who covered his tracks with remarkable skill. But I knew that given an irresistible opportunity, that even he would fail and reveal himself." On the viewscreens above them an image recorded in the mask appeared furtively in the corner, visible through the red lenses as a dark shadow. It approached closer, until suddenly the face was full and clear before them. Justin's face appeared clearly at last, and was frozen there, bloody knife in hand.

Doom's hand closed tighter around Justin's neck, but the assassin did not struggle, accepting that his fate had been decided long ago. Doom addressed Elisabeth coldly. "When you are in a position of power, my dear, you will find that even those who you would call your friends cannot be trusted."

"Justin, why?" Elisabeth pleaded, shocked and stunned that he could have done this.

Justin looked at her with anger. "If you don't know now, you never will," he said cryptically.

Doom pushed Justin toward a waiting guard. "Lock him up for now," he ordered, "I have more important things to attend to."

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In the massive underground complex where Doom had constructed his Energy Replication Mechanism to recreate the accident that transformed a meek programer into the Elemental being, panic had taken hold. Dozens of technicians scurried about in a state of chaos. Alarms were sounding on every system, and the equipment seemed to be facing impending peril. If not for one man directing the activity, complete failure would have reduced the giant machine to molten slag long before now. But Doom would not allow it! Doom stood stoutly at his control panel, a calm hub in the whirl of movement around him. Every so often his hands played over a series of controls, like a skilled pianist at a favorite concerto. He watched the machine with complex understanding, listened to it's every breath, and barely glanced at the readouts on the lighted displays before him.

"What is happening?" Elisabeth asked, just arriving in the room to report for her coming transformation. She was outfitted in the same yellow jumpsuit worn by the other techs, but she alone stood at Doom's side. Despite that, she was beginning to experience tremors of doubt, both in herself and in the armored monarch beside her. She was trying hard not to show it however, for she knew that it would displease him. She had become suddenly quite aware of the consequences of his displeasure.

"Elemental has entered the machine," Doom answered stoically, his eyes still riveted to his invention.

"How do you know that? What's he doing?" Elisabeth looked down from their perch towards the ERM, the machine that would transform her into an energy being just like Ephraim. She was afraid for him, and for herself. Ephraim had changed, and she no longer knew or understood the quiet little man that had worked at her side for so many years. She was no longer sure if she wanted those changes for herself anymore.

"He is attempting to destroy the ERM," Doom stated with calm assurance. "But he will fail. Doom is the master of this machine, I will not allow some insubordinate rogue to interfere with my plans! My genius created this machine to withstand even the attacks from the cyber world! He will submit to my greater intellect, or die trying!"

"Master," one of the technicians informed him, "it's working! Containment is at 75%!"

"Of course it's working, ignorant dolt!" Doom yelled down at him. "Prepare the team for extraction!"

A team of security technicians activated a circular containment generator on a raised platform at the center of the room. A large cone shaped beam projector was lowered down from the ceiling, stopping three meters above the platform. When all was in place, Doom activated a switch, and light beams from above and below merged instantly to form a brilliant glowing cylinder.

"Beginning the extraction process . . . now," Doom announced as he adjusted his controls and pushed a series of buttons at his podium.

Inside the cylinder, a human like form begin to take shape. The creature inside materialized only partially, and appeared to be struggling against the process. The form was opaque, barely defined, a hazy outline with a strange, ghost-like quality to it. The body writhed in torment as more and more bits of his essence were brought into the field. Skinny arms flailed against the energy barrier that held him. He turned to face Doom, wordless anger and burning rage evident on his face. He caught the eyes of the woman who stood beside his captor, and Elisabeth gasped as she recognized the once gentle features of her friend Ephraim Cvijanovic transformed in this way. The creature now known as Elemental suddenly ceased his struggles, and collapsed, fully formed, on the floor of his cage.

Doom stepped down to admire his handiwork, calmly escorting Elisabeth to the platform. "Welcome, Elemental," he began smugly. "You will find that the negative energy barrier resists any attempt to breach the containment. It has been designed with your specific energy patterns in mind. There will be no more of your interference with my plans!"

Elemental glared down at Doom with undisguised anger. "How did you track me down?"

Doom checked some readings on the containment vessel and looked back at Elemental with amusement. "Silly boy, do you think I would let you fly around the cyberverse without some means of tracking you?" Doom put a hand to his chin in droll arrogance. "The suit you wear, the unstable molecules necessary to maintain your modesty, has a unique tracking device interwoven into the very molecules of which it is made. With it, I have followed your every move. You are far too valuable to have you run around without an appropriate collar."

"I have done what you asked!" Elemental pleaded, fear and fatigue replacing his anger. "The Neon Angel will bother us no more! What more do you want from me?!"

"Nothing, my friend," Doom answered smoothly. "Nothing but the genetic codes locked inside your DNA. With those codes and this machine, I will create an army of elemental soldiers able to traverse the electronic media, and then appear as solid at any terminal station in the world. In time, they may even be able to travel radio waves into the depths of space, to explore the farthest reaches of the universe. With these soldiers at my command, wars fought over arbitrary borderlines drawn in the sand will be passe'. Conquest of countries will be as simple as controlling the information channels on which they depend. I will unite this world under one banner, under one rule. My Rule! With a small elite cadre of electronic soldiers under my command, there will be no one, not the megacorps, not the fledgling super heroes of this generation, not even Herod and his domain of despicable evil who could thwart my right to rule this world! Elisabeth will be the first, but there will be many others to follow, as willing to serve as you have been reluctant."

"Elisabeth, no . . .," Elemental looked down on her, pain and fear clear in his eyes.

Elisabeth approached him slowly, looking up at him, sad to see him trapped, guilty at her own part in this drama. He had changed so much, he hardly seemed human anymore. His silvery skin, so fluid it reflected the yellow light from the containment cell, was alien to her. The eyes, once a dull gray were now a vivid, electric blue. But his quiet, unassuming essence, his shy but affectionate presence were still intact. He wasn't a warrior, he never had been, and now he was a victim of an accidental transformation that he never asked for.

"You don't want to do this, Elisabeth, please . . ." Elemental sighed quietly as she approached. "You don't want to become like me, you don't know what it is like. This is not living. It is a living Hel. You have no idea how much I wanted to be by you, to live by your side for eternity. But not like this!"

Elisabeth approached closer, touched by the emotion of his confession. She placed a hand up to the barrier, and he tried to touch it, but was driven back by the electronic force field. "I never knew you felt that way . . ." Elisabeth whispered.

Elemental shook his head, rubbing a hand absently over the bald crown in a familiar gesture. "It was not meant to be, for me . . ." he said, choking back his emotion. "Please do not go through with this. By Odin's breath I swear to you! Humanity was not meant to live like this!"

Doom stood behind Elisabeth and slowly applauded with mock adulation. "Bravo, bravo," he said cynically. "I'm touched by the depth of your pathos. But you always were a pathetic creature, Ephraim. I doubt you really understand anything of how humanity was meant to live, cooped up like your pigeons in a wire cage of your own making, lacking either in the courage or the imagination to look beyond these walls. Leave the living for those who have some experience, boy!" he added angrily. "Only those with vision and courage will be the ones who can break free of the man made prisons of society to forge a new world of light and order!"

Elemental dropped his eyes in self-recriminating shame, and turned his back on them. Elisabeth turned to look at Doom with a new understanding. Her gaze was no longer one of admiration.

"Now," Doom stated cooly. "Shall we continue with the procedure?" He gestured to the technicians, motioning them to begin the DNA extraction. A strange device with a long hypodermic needle attached to one end, was rolled up to Elemental's cage.

"Elisabeth," Doom continued softly but with the tone of a command, "it is time for you to take your position within the ERM."

Elisabeth paused, and did not move from her place near the cage. Out of the corner of her eye she watched as the long needle prepared to pierce Elemental's cage and extract the DNA sample necessary to make the ERM work.

Doom looked quietly at the hesitant net leader, and then motioned easily to the guards who were standing by. They began to approach her from either side.

Elisabeth looked up at last and met Doom's red lenses with her own fierce eyes. "No," she said at last, "I will not." Elemental turned suddenly around, hope at last in his eyes, and pressed as close as he dared to the wall of his jail.

Doom sighed ever so slightly, and motioned with a subtle gesture at the guards to back off. He approached her calmly, cautiously. "You should change your mind about that," Doom stated dispassionately. "This is what you want, remember? Power. Limitless access. Eternal beauty . . . " he reached out to touch her face. She backed up against the cage, and turned her face away from his touch. Doom dropped his hand, clenching it into a fist.

"This is wrong," she said firmly. She looked up at Elemental, whose silent gaze met her eyes with pride and wordless encouragement. "Ephraim is right, this is not how it is meant to be. Net gliding is about freedom, and information. It is not about war and conquest.

"Don't be so naive, girl," Doom answered with muted anger. "Information is power, and it is the power base upon which this nation is built. The elemental power is just another tool to use to maintain that power, to ensure security. If we don't exploit it, and use it, then someone else will. It is only a matter of time, now. Would you sacrifice this nation, because you were afraid to evolve?"

"No! You're twisting what I said!" Elisabeth shook her head fiercely, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "You don't just want security, you want control . . . control of everything! And the elementals won't just maintain order, they'll become your personal assassins!" She hissed the last word, desperately trying to maintain her composure.

"Come now, Elisabeth," he whispered seductively. "Once we've established our intent, no one would dare to oppose us. The threat of violence will be all we need to maintain order. If not you, then there are many others among you who are ready now to take this step into another dimension." He reached up to gently wipe the tear from the corner of her eye. "You are not one to be left behind. You want this, I know it."

Elisabeth felt the cold metal of his hand against her cheek, and felt him move slightly closer to her. She placed her hand on his, and in the moment she felt him relax, she strengthened her resolve. "No! Never!" she cried, and grabbing his hand she yanked hard on it, forcing it through the barrier behind her.

Doom's armored glove, shielded against most energy forms, passed through that electronic barrier easily. To Elemental's credit, he was ready on the other side of his prison. Doom lost his balance only for an instant, but in that instant Elemental grabbed the hand that penetrated his cage. Doom locked angry eyes with Elemental, and the man who once cowered at his feet smiled ever so briefly. In a nanosecond, Doom realized the danger he was in, but before he could activate a shield, Elemental was inside his armor's cybernetic system. Doom pulled away from the now empty cage, his armor suddenly electrified from within. His normally fluid movement was clumsy and off balance, as he struggled to control the armor's motor systems, suddenly corrupted by Elemental's presence.

With a terrible mounting anger, Doom turned back toward Elisabeth. He grabbed her, his fury the only thing that kept Elemental from stopping him. "You insolent wench!" he yelled, backhanding Elisabeth across the face, and sending her sprawling across the floor with a bloody gash in her lip.

Inside his armor, Elemental cried out in his own rage and began to systematically sever the armor's cyber matrix systems. In an instant, Doom no longer had complete control of his armor. Elemental was assaulting his very skin. Doom focused his mind on accessing secure programs to shut down his internal nanotechnology, attempting to bypass Elemental's efforts and force the creature out. But Elemental didn't plan on staying, he had other ideas. Doom's armored gauntlets lifted involuntarily, and the mighty weapons began to randomly fire upon the ERM, the security team, technicians, and anything else of value in the room. Massive explosions shook the underground complex in a series of uncontrollable chain reactions, and yellow suited technicians fled in panic. Doom was like a puppet inside his own armor, fighting for control against this unseen enemy. But whereas Doom had spent no less than two lifetimes inside his armored shell, Elemental was a novice. He had yet to discover the full extent of the armor's power, or the systems over which he had control. He had the power to cause great harm to Doom's physical body, but Doom was blocking access wherever he could, unwilling to relinquish control. More weapons blasted away at the ERM, and security forces hesitant to fire upon their Master, holstered their weapons and fled to where they hoped they could watch in safety.

"Arrghhh!!!" Doom yelled in angry frustration. He could sense Elemental's presence through his internal systems, and had initiated an advanced anti-viral protocol to eradicate the intruder, but it would take time. Meanwhile the ERM had taken several hits from his own armor, and fire was beginning to break out in portions of the room. "Security!" Doom ordered, "access the multi-phasic mobile security shield! Get me into a containment cell! Now you brainless dolts!" Doom moved towards one of the control boards, fighting Elemental's hold on his armor and winning, if only just barely.

One of the security guards ran from his hiding place and activated a shield generator. In the next instant a clear shield lowered down over Doom, limiting his access and preventing Elemental from doing any more harm. Doom had yet to regain full control, but once inside the shield he could concentrate on evicting his assailant. He turned to see something else he had missed. Through the haze and smoke of the room, he spotted Elisabeth, struggling to rise and coughing from the smoke on the other side of the main platform.

"Security!" Doom ordered again. "Grab the girl! Don't let her escape! She may still be useful in controlling Elemental!"

Doom felt as much as heard the ruptured cry of "No!" coming from somewhere within his systems. That seemed to have had the intended effect, and Doom was ready now. The essence of Elemental slithered out of the armor, and reformed as a solid being beside Doom. But Elemental found himself standing inside an electric cage with the thoroughly enraged monarch. Doom wasted no time, activating a shield that would prevent Elemental from re- entering his armor, as he grabbed the traitor by the throat and slammed him to the floor, careful to keep him away from any electronic systems that he might attempt to enter.

"You should have killed me when you had the chance, Ephraim," Doom hissed from inches above Elemental's face. "Now you will pay for your impudence!"

Meanwhile, one of the guards ran up to Elisabeth, intent on holding her. The resourceful Net Leader was far less incapacitated than she appeared, however. As the guard approached, she rose up and slammed a fist into his groin area. The guard crumpled, and her other fist came down hard across his neck. He collapsed to the ground, but more guards were on the way. Elisabeth grabbed the giant rolling hypodermic that was behind her. Freeing the wheels, she pointed it at the approaching security officers. The three foot long needle glimmered menacingly in the flickering fire light. The lead guard stopped, eyeing that sharp point in terror.

"Don't be afraid of a little needle, boys," Elisabeth shouted derisively, and shoved the rolling hypodermic towards them. The guards scattered in retreat, and Elisabeth began to look for her own way out.

"Psst! Elisabeth! Over here!"

Elisabeth looked to a side door that opened up out of the smoke. "Mahlon?" she said as she recognized her teammate. She ran to the open doorway. "Mahlon, you don't want to get involved in this . . ."

"Too late Commander," Mahlon said with a wry smile. "I heard the security alert over the net. I'm with you, Elisabeth, and I'm not the only one. We've got a backdoor off the island, but we have to go now!"

"But what about Elemental?" Elisabeth cried as they rushed headlong down a darkened corridor.

"I don't know, " Mahlon answered. "He'll have to take care of himself."

In the control room, Doom held Elemental securely by the throat, his weight pinning the energy being to the floor. A tightly contained field around Elemental's neck prevented him from using his powers of intangibility to escape. But Elemental struggled nonetheless.

"There can be no escape for you now, dissident scum!" Doom hissed menacingly. "The girl won't escape either." Doom turned away to address his security team once more, still scattered and struggling against the flames and explosions inside the ERM. "Security, lower this shield and reestablish the containment cylinder!"

"I would rather die than serve you!" Elemental groaned with bestial fortitude.

"That can be arranged," Doom purred easily, "after we've extracted the DNA codes from inside your cells!"

"No! I won't allow it!" Elemental reached his hand up past Doom's restraining glove, and with the tip of his finger he touched the force field that still surrounded the pair.

"What the . . .?" Doom stated in genuine surprise.

The energies were intense, and far more than even Elemental could withstand. But his power began to accelerate to match the harmonics of the field, and in a moment he became the field. He smiled knowingly up at Doom. Underneath Doom's unrelenting grip, Elemental began to disintegrate, fragmenting into geometrically shrinking bits of color and light until there was nothing left. Doom released his grip on nothing, and stood up. "Did Elemental just commit suicide before my eyes?" he thought, "Or did he escape through the energy barrier somehow?" He looked up at the energy beam generator above him. Through the eyepieces of his mask, he could detect an abnormal energy fluctuation. If Elemental lived, he was fractured into a billion pieces of matter and energy that may never coalesce to form a cohesive unit, a living being in the sense that he understood it. Still . . .

Doom turned to his security forces once more. "Track him!" he ordered impatiently. "Now, you curs! And somebody lower this shield!"

Security officers rushed to carry out his orders, but were delayed in finding an active system in the midst of the fire and confusion. As soon as the shield was down, Doom stalked up to one of the control panels and hunched over it. It was useless, the lights were dark, the buttons unresponsive. Angrily, he hastened the equipment's demise by smashing a metal fist through the controls.

He stood up and gazed dispassionately over the now ruined underground complex. Smoke surged through man sized craters in the vanquished machine. Fire, now under control, had blackened intricate connections and miles of wiring was shattered, splayed uselessly upon the floor. There was no sense in wasting any further energy on this venture.

He turned to the nearest security officer. "Prepare my ship." he growled coldly, and turned to march out of the smoke filled room, his green cape whipping lividly behind him.

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Duke Stratosphere had tapped into all sorts of intriguing data from Doom's cybernetic castle. He had hacked into a plethora of remarkably detailed security data. He had found a secret recipe for the castle baker's special baklava with loganberry sauce. He had even accessed some of Doom's personal diaries. And other than gaining a better appreciation for the true depths of Doom's colossal ego, he had yet to find anything useful to describe the tableau on the giant tapestry, or to explain what exactly was in the small black box. He removed the box from the deep coat pocket where it had been hidden, and set it on a nearby table. The tour guide had been disabled, and the beheaded remains of her programmed body lay crumpled against the stone wall. Duke had used the head to bypass some of the security locks, wisely taking the time to disconnect her sound card before he did so. The mute head looked at him now in obvious disdain, her mouth moving but no sound coming from her electronic lips. She suddenly looked at the box, seeing it now for the first time as Duke stared at it quizzically, and her mouth snapped shut. Duke missed her reaction, and instead picked the box up again to examine it for the thousandth time.

A noise from the other end of the hallway caught his attention, and he set the box back down on the table as he stood up. He readied himself, like a gunfighter, for something big that was coming his way. Squinting, he could finally make out a human figure marching down the hallway directly towards him. The fractured light and dark shadows prevented him from getting a good look at the newcomer, but the flash of light on silver gloves and boots, and the green cape that trailed like wings behind him, were nearly foolproof indications that Doom had returned. The monarch approached wordlessly, striding with purposeful intent straight down the hall towards Duke. Duke had several alternatives already worked out, as he judged the distance between them and tried to anticipate what Doom would do, if this was indeed the real Doom and not some glitch like before. It was a moment later, when he remembered that he'd left the box on the table behind him, that he realized he had just made a crucial error. He turned quickly and reached for the box, but it was already gone.

Doom stood behind him, holding the box neatly in his gloved hand. Duke glanced back down the hallway at the Doom figure that was still marching towards him, and realized that he had been duped by the simplest of net glider tricks. The marching Doom, a holographic program mirror, faded away and was gone.

"The great Duke Stratosphere," Doom intoned deeply. "We meet again at last. Only this time, you are in my domain, and I hold all the cards."

"Look, I didn't mean to trespass," Duke stated bravely. "I was just going to return this program that I found and be on my way. So, there you have it, and, I'll just be on my way now."

"You will go nowhere, dog," Doom growled. At a gesture the doors and windows of the cybernetic room were closed like steel traps. Two enormous guards, easily eight feet tall with piked hats and steel spears appeared at the doorways, their zombie like eyes closing in on Duke.

"But you will die," Doom announced dispassionately.

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EPILOGUE:

In Myridia, four days after the final disappearance of Elemental, a security team following a faint signal came upon a pile of clothes in an abandoned ventilation duct at the heart of the city. The clothes matched the description of the uniform Elemental was last seen wearing, and their readings verified that it was indeed the same one. The security team argued for an hour over who would bring this discovery to the attention of their commander, and hence the dreaded Lord Doom. In the end, they locked the clothes away into an evidence locker in a distant police warehouse. They filed a written report stating that some miscellaneous clothing had been discovered in the shaft, probably from a transient, and then they prayed that no one would ever notice it.

        "All that we see or seem,
                Is but a Dream within a Dream."
                        Edgar Allan Poe.

NEXT: Doom and Duke finally duke it out! Who will be the lord of cyberspace? The secrets of the Box revealed at last! And prepare for the return of two characters from the pages of Doom 2099 as Doom takes a little jaunt into the mountainous wilderness of Karakorum! All this and Africa too! Be here in thirty! (Or thereabouts . . .)



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