Jason Burr ran.

It was all he knew. Run. Runrunrun. Otherwise they would recapture him. Torture him again.

His brother. It was all his brother's doing. His twin.

Naga.

They shared a link, Jason and Naga. An empathic bond. If one was hurt, the other felt it. If one died, the other would as well. Naga wanted to break that bond. He'd faked Jason's death years earlier; imprisoned him. The torture had begun only days later. No, not torture. More like experimentation.

Naga wanted the bond severed. Wanted his weakness burned away.

And that was where the creature known as Arrakhat had come in.

Burr wasn't sure what the creature truly was; alien? Ifrit? Only that it had flayed the skin from him and regrown it at Kobra's command. It had cut him apart, blinded him and eaten his entrails only to repair everything just before he could find the sweet release of death.

And through it all, Kobra had laughed. Unharmed.

Years of torture. Years of searching. And it was the magic contained in an ancient amulet that had at last severed their bond. But only temporarily. Burr grinned, his scarred features tight and gruesome.

His brother only had freedom as long as Arrakhat was the one to kill Burr. Which he'd been preparing to order when a power failure in the underground temple had allowed Burr to slip away to the surface in a last ditch scramble for freedom.

"A power failure orchestrated by us, Jason Burr." the harsh electric whine of a voice, the voice of the entity known as Mockingbird, crackled around his head. "We freed you. And now we will help you to escape."

"Why?"

"That is not your concern."

"Pardon me for not trusting an electronic hologram."

"We are not a hologram." A shriek of green energy plucked at the air in front of him, catching the Cobra-cultist who had suddenly leapt out in front of Burr in the chest, frying him like a side of bacon in a greasy pan. Mockingbird reformed, standing over the sizzing corpse. Glowing eyes watched Jason Burr ease past and continue to run, face sick and pale.

"We are Mockingbird."

THE SERPENT SANCTION
Issue #3
Djinn & Tonic

Floyd Lawton rotated his wrists, easing the strain the gauntlets he wore put on his joints. A doctor he’d seen in a prison infirmary had pointed out that continued use of the wrist-magnums would result in arthritis eventually. There was already some pain in his hands and shoulders.

Maybe he was just getting old. Age had a way of creeping up on you.

A flash of green and orange.

Floyd grinned and squeezed the trigger mechanisms in his palms.

A Cobra-cultist pitched forwards in the street, his skull cracked open. Floyd moved his arms to the left and fired again. Bullets stitched up the dusty street and caught two more in the act of darting between buildings.

Somewhere behind him he heard the distinctive crack of an 18th century musket. Lady Vic was one up on him with a tally of six. Even farther back, the sound of Plunder’s high-powered rifle echoed through the orange streets.

All things considered, Naga’s boys had played it relatively smart. Small groups filtering through the crooked streets and alleys, bird-dogging that poor sap Burr. Following him close, but not too close. Herding him.

Of course, now Deadshot and his two companions were the ones doing the herding. And it was almost time for the final cull. Floyd tapped the side of his silver mask, activating the radio transmitter there.

"I’ve got mine bottled up. How’s it on your ends?"

"I can load and fire four rounds a minute with this thing." Lady Vic replied. "How do you think I’m doing?"

"Give me a min-Ha!" Plunder’s voice said. The sound of an explosion rolled over the city. "I love grenade launchers."

"I’m sensing a distinct lack of subtlety." Lady Vic sniffed. Deadshot laughed.

"As long as it gets the job done babe, I’m all for subtlety or the lack thereof."

"Amateur."

"We get paid, we're professionals." Plunder said. "How long are we gonna have to wait on this idiot to reach us?"

"Man's been tortured." Deadshot said. He heard Plunder snort.

"Who hasn't?"

"Me. And I'd like to keep it that way gentlemen." Lady Vic said. Deadshot heard her musket crack again. "Eyes on the prize boys."

"Talk dirty to me baby." Deadshot smiled and squeezed the triggers again.

"So who's Mockingbird, Floyd?" Lady Vic purred. There was a faint squeal on the headset; a sign she had switched to a private channel. Plunder was out of the loop. Morillo was going to be cranky.

"Like I said before babe, no clue. Alls I knows is the checks go through."

"Oh come off it. Are we working for Uncle Sam?"

"Maybe."

"Mossad?"

"Could be."

"Checkmate?"

"Why not?"

"Damn it Deadshot! Tell me!"

"Would if I could sweetness. Would if I could." Deadshot said.

"Would you really Lawton?" Mockingbird's voice hissed in Deadshot's ear. A squall of static drowned out Lady Vic's voice. "If you knew, would you tell?"

"Does it matter?"

"Now? Yes. Later? Perhaps not."

"Relax. I don't care who the hell you are as long as the money is good." Deadshot said harshly. Mockingbird laughed, a cacaphonous, distorted sound.

"We are pleased."

"Thought you would be."

Bane roared and hurled the limp body into three of its fellows. Bones snapped and splintered and men screamed. Bane stepped over them, his eyes already seeking new targets. New enemies. Blood thundered in his ears and he tasted the hot copper and ginger chill of the venom in his veins. He reached out, fingers locking on a pale throat.

"Mmmm. Foreplay." Knockout mumured, grabbing Bane's bulging forearm and pulling him closer even as he squeezed her throat. He growled and shook his head, the berserker rage fading and hurled her aside.

"Away from me woman. Now is not the time."

"Now is never the time." Knockout picked herself up, pouting. "Shame too. Our genetics are so very compatible."

"Wow. That comment is so full of Hitler." Fastball said with a smirk. He floated overhead, squatting on his antigravity platform, juggling explosive spheres. Bane cocked his head.

"That makes no sense."

"It makes perfect sense." Fastball stood. "You just gotta listen."

"I think we've listened to you long enough clown." Knockout snarled. "Concentrate on our enemies instead of jokes."

"What enemies? We're done!" Fastball's platform shot up into the air, rising high over the buildings. Bodies lay four and five deep in the market street and connecting alleyways. "May as well go introduce ourselves to the neighbors." With a negligent gesture he let the spheres he had been juggling fall towards the ground below. "Heads up!"

"Move!" Bane wrapped a thick arm around Knockout's waist and leapt out of the way as a massive explosion rocked the street. The ground cracked and slid as if an immense sinkhole had opened up. Several buildings crumpled like card houses, collapsing into the newly made crater and splintering against the metal layer revealed beneath.

"You do care." Knockout said. Bane dropped her and shook a fist at Fastball.

"Idiotic monkey. You almost killed us!"

"Almost only counts in horseshoes and haAHGK-" Fastball began. His words were lost in a scream as something made of flame and brass slapped him from his platform and hurled his limp body through the window of one of the few buildings still standing.

Arrakhat had come. And Hell followed with him.

The creature was a vision of evil; an angular form clad in brass and iron, a robe and hood the color of dried blood hiding most of its hovering form. Twin scimitars were clutched in scaly fists, the blades dripping with molten flame. And its eyes blazed like a darkling sun as it gazed down on the two super-criminals.

It spoke in a voice like the tolling of some distant bell, its words spattering the ground like rain. Bane looked at Knockout.

"Did you understand what it said?"

"No."

"Hunh. Must not be important then." Bane crossed his arms and stared up at the creature. Arrakhat raised its swords and hurtled down towards the mercenary, fangs bared in a grin.

Knockout lunged, her green gloved hands seizing the creature's shoulder guards and yanking it off course, slamming it into the ground. Blades flashed and she stumbled back, blood drizzling from a slash on her cheek. Arakhat twisted sinuously and was on its cloven hooves instantly, swords slicing the very air as it cut at the former Female-Fury. Bane leapt on it from behind, wrapping his arms around its malformed head. With a grunt he twisted its head around, listening for the tell-tale snap of bone. Instead however, Arrakhat's head twisted around and it belched a gout of flame from its jaws, sending Bane reeling back, mask and arms afire.

Bane roared and rolled around, trying to quench the mystical flames even as Arrakhat lashed out with a hoof and kicked him in the stomach and sent him flying. Knockout took advantage of the djinn's momentary distraction and smashed a fist into the back of its head, knocking it to the ground. As it tried to right itself she scooped a hunk of masonry from the ground and brought it down with devastating force on the entity, flattening it.

Knockout stepped back, eyes narrowed.

Twin blades shot up through the rock, cutting it in twain. Arrakhat rose, its grin still fixed on its hideous face. It spoke again and Knockout took a step back, her soul chilled to the core. It spun its scimitars on long fingers and followed her, pacing her steadily. She darted forward, fist cocked. Arrakhat matched her, and the two slid past each other in a cloud of dust. They stood for a moment, immobile. And then Knockout collapsed, fingers pressed to her belly as she tried to staunch the flow of blood. The djinn turned and raised its scimitars over the wounded woman.

Three murders.

That was the promise. Three murders and it would be free to sleep again. At least until Kobra summoned it again.

Best get them done quickly.

"Stop!"

Arrakhat whirled, hissing. Kobra stood amidst the destruction and death, hands intertwined behind his back. "You think to free yourself that quickly? For shame beast. Have I not been a kind master?"

The creature did not reply, simply sheathing its swords. Kobra gestured.

"Go. Find Jason Burr. Bring him back to me. And then you will kill him. It is time to end this farce." Kobra said, eyes cold. "Go!"

Arrakhat leapt to obey, vanishing in a twist of sulphur.

Kobra looked around and sniffed. Such destruction. Beautiful in and of itself, but wasteful for all that. The creature was a wonderful tool, as long as it wasn't allowed to complete its murderous cycle before it had accomplished other tasks. It had taken him months to figure that out. Wasted murders. Wasted wishes. Once Burr was dead, he would allow Arrakhat to kill two of those who had attacked him. Perhaps even that Mockingbird creature...

"No. We do not think so Lord Naga."

Kobra turned, fangs bared as the shifting, sputtering figure of Mockingbird appeared. "You again! I will find you 'Mockingbird' and gut you!"

"No. You will not." Mockingbird said. "In fact, very soon, you will bow to us Lord Naga. You will follow us. Or you will die."

"I see him." Deadshot said. "Heads up, panties down kiddies. Jason Burr is coming in hot and I do mean hot!" He crouched on the rooftop and watched as the half-naked man stumbled into the square, heedless of the bodies sprawled around him. Something made of flame and hate followed him.

Deadshot took aim at Jason Burr and gritted his teeth.

"Hope to God you know what you're doing Mockingbird."

And then he fired.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Next Issue: 'The Serpent Sanction' continues as the Six go head to head with Arrakhat for round two! Death and mayhem abound!