Chapter 1: The Lobanhaki's Profile I

"Would you pronounce that for me, please?"
"LO-buh-Knock-Key." John Taylor rattled off phonetically.
This had been a bad day. It had just gotten worse.

He looked young, was built like a boxer. He wasn't particularly handsome, but he had a rare face. If he hadn't told the FBI agent what to call him, the poor guy wouldn't have known where to start. He might have guessed middle east with the olive skin and dark curly hair, but then the crystalline blues and the shape of his face would have thrown him, maybe to the west, maybe to the east.

It was perhaps the carry-on luggage that concerned them. A collapsible staff about three feet in length. If you knew where to press, it would go to six feet. If you knew it real well, you'd know which button would give you nice sharp things to stick into bad guys with. As it was, though, it was broken.

One could say the same about John. He was battered and bruised all over, ribs wrapped, probably a few broken bones here and there that hadn't been noticed in the initial exam.

"You really shouldn't have me in these cuffs. Agent Leonard." John told him.

The Young FBI agent looked at him as if he'd grown another head.
"We can't be sure of your intentions, Mr. Taylor." Agent Dominic Leonard stated.

"Captain." John corrected. " I earned my rank, just like you. And no you can't. But if I were not in a cooperative mood, these wouldn't last a second, and I won't be the last unusual person you get in here."

Again, that look.

"You should order some from our supplier. They're warded to increase the strength of the metal at the restrainee's expense when they try to break them." Taylor suggested.

Again that look.

"Do you know why you're here, Captain Taylor?" the agent asked.
"A bureaucratic glitch, I imagine. I was told I had the proper papers to transport my weapon." John said.
"No, we flagged you because of this." The young fed told him.

The agent laid down a photo. Taylor only had to take a glance to know. Mikhale. A longer look would have shown him the strange armor, the almost twin-like resemblance, the broad, scimitar-like sword that had torn through so many of this assassin's victims. Former assassin, actually. But they weren't up to speed on developments. The photo was already outdated, John knew.

The Mask. He remembered that confrontation, after they had defeated the creature in Hamilton City. He remembered his brother raising his sword, against his will, to strike at the flesh and blood he had almost killed all those years ago. He knew, looking in his brothers eyes, that what his brother had wanted was suicide by cop, his brother to use what was left of his weapon to put him out of his misery.

Then Jacob Riley intervened, almost like a Deus Ex Machina. The powerful young soldier had shaken the enchantment that Morningstar's other agent, David Sheffield, had placed on him. When he arrived, even John, who had witnessed the wonders of his power before, was floored. His brother, perhaps compelled by the evil of the mask, perhaps by the deathwish, attacked Jake. When Jake struck with that strange sword of his, he thought Mikhale's death-wish had been granted. Then the mask fell off (strange since it had seem set directly in his flesh), and he was free again.

The battle in that city had seemed like a dream. Even now, the figures didn't seem to have any real world sense to them. Eight buildings had been totally wiped off the map. twice that many had been damaged beyond repair, and most of the rest of the skyline had sustained some kind of damage. John knew what had done that damage, what had gutted the skyline of that major American city.

The Sachoridoth.

That's probably what really had this agent freaked. Before the battle at Hamilton City, the big worry of the regular folks had been the Weapons of Mass Destruction. Jacob Riley, in fact, had gone to fight in that well-intentioned but screwed-up war. Riley's foster father had sent him after the young man, more or less to baby sit him. It turned out to be more interesting of a job than he thought it was going to be. He still had the burn scars on his hands to prove it. He had ripped the door off that burning humvee and brought what was left of Jacob Riley out. The Menders took it from there, brought him to Sarah Cordell and their unit. From that would come the inevitable, unstoppable series of events that would leave thousands dead and tens of thousands wounded in an American city.

What would it matter to tell this guy? That the culture of magic users was varied, with all kinds of different interests and positions? This poor fellow likely didn't know enough to understand what most of the Crafters and Talents knew was the case. Few in the so-called real world knew much of anything. For years the people that John had guarded had hid around the ancient gateways, using the energies that poured off in surplus to hide their presence. Agent Leonard would not understand that the real target of Morningstar's use of the Sachoridoth had not been Hamilton city itself.

What Morningstar had unleashed was a new planar gate, a portal between worlds. Only this one hadn't been bound and confined like the numerous gates they used, but had been unleashed in a wildly destructive explosion of energy. One consequence was the destruction and likely transport of much of the city into another world.

But something else had happened. The pulse of energy from the opening made its way through each and every other gate. whole towns and enclaves that had been hidden to the world had been suddenly and brutally revealed to a globe already reeling from what seemed like a terrorist attack in a United States city. The secret that people like him, known to their communities as the Huntsmen, had protected for centuries, was out in the open, and everywhere at that.

The world of this young FBI agent had likely been turned upside down. The news reports from the time indicated a general pause in world events. Iraq had gone from a number one trouble spot in the world to dead calm in the matter of the week as nearly a hundred gates had opened up in just that nation alone. Saudi Arabia had to deal with fewer, but their clustering around the Holy Cities had the Muslims unnerved. Europe was no less on edge, as a criss-crossing network of gates had opened up there, too. China and the countries of the Far East had their share of them, and rumors from that last great bastion of Communism indicated that their government was in a state of panic. After all, magic was just some superstition, and yet five gates had burst out of the ground itself in Bejing alone.

John was likely right about what this agent could expect to see. For the worlds that these gates were connected to were inhabited. John had to smile. The agent would have his hands full. But he would not have to deal with Mikhale any time soon.

Morningstar, Mikhale's former master, was dead. The mask was off. Mikhale Talderwis had left him, after that discussion on the roof, and returned home. Home was a place that not even the gates could lead, not without the device that Mikhale had taken with him. The Sachoridoth had been the key.

But could he tell this guy that? He knew in his heart that Mikhale had changed, that he wished to go home and face his reckoning, as he called it, but it would be tough convincing this guy, especially considering the carnage that Mikhale had left behind in his pursuit of John and Jake, at the gate to Darshiaro. It'd be tough telling him the truth, especially about the forces behind the attack, and those who had defended it.

He looked down at the photo, likely a news camera photo from after their fight, given the bruises on Mikhale's face.

"That's my brother." John admitted. No point in lying about that.

"We know. We thought he might have told you where he was going," Agent Leonard admitted in turn."I'm afraid I don't know exactly. We weren't exactly on good terms." John said. At least it was partly true.

Agent Leonard sat back and smiled. "Someone told me recently that I should watch myself with you Huntsmen. He said, you're born liars."

John shrugged listlessly, sat back in his chair, his hands cuffed behind him. Then he looked up at Agent Leonard, smiled devilishly. SNAP! The chain broke. Leonard jumped backed and drew his pistol. John just smiled at him.

"Oh, we're great liars, actually. We had to be. That's how people like me kept people like you in the dark." John explained. Still the agent held the gun on him.

"Will you put that away? First, I could be within arm's reach before you could fired a single shot. Second, I had plenty of opportunity to shake you loose, or if I was really going to be rude about it, kill you and your men."

Still, the gun.

"I don't know why you have me here, Agent Leonard, but it's got nothing to do with my brother, and you really don't seem like the sort of person who really wants to kill me. So put the gun away and tell me what you've really got me here for." With that John motioned towards the other side of the table.

Still, the gun...

Tales from the Borderlands Omnibus