"Does anyone want to explain to me what we're doing in the middle of the desert again?" John R. Dequindre demanded from the CB radio speakers embedded in Steve Jason's motorcycle helmet.

As that statement might have suggested, Steve's current location was none other than the middle of the Mojave Desert, just over the line into Arizona. While it was winter, sparing Steve the worst of the desert heat, the area around him was bleak, sterile sand, rock and Joshua trees, almost like something out of Mad Max - or the popular postapocalyptic game series known as Fallout, for that matter. Even the track upon which Steve rode wasn't really much more than a rough gravel path that was only barely suitable for Steve to ride upon. No people could be seen for miles, and the only company he had was the green Jeep Cherokee trailing some distance.

Steve hadn't really gotten any serious mileage out of a motorcycle for some years, but he'd recently decided to pick it back up, choosing his own solitary form of transport over riding with others. His bike was definitely a sports-frame rather than a Harley or similar, white with a large blue stripe along each side, fast and manoeuvrable. As he cruised through the bleak, rocky desert towards what appeared to be absolutely nothing but a group of rocky outcrops in the distance, the wind blasted around his black protective leather jacket, jeans and boots, nature assaulting him with its fury as he defied it all the same.

"This is where the guy in gray told us to go, John..." Steve replied matter-of-factly into the microphone set just in front of his mouth, "You could have just stayed at home, you know."

"Oh, no. Not after that suit told me that they had interest in me too. You know what I'm like with curiosity, particularly when I'm in a country where nobody's supposed to know who the hell I am. I'm just some South African guy who the ladies love here."

"And just dripping with humility..." Steve could hear Chloe O'Brien's voice sarcastically in the background, "How far are we, anyway?"

"Well, the GPS says we're only about two or three miles away from wherever it is we're meant to go. But I'm going to be honest, I don't see anything but a shitload of sand and rock. There's nothing on the map or the horizon."

"You sure about that?" Maybe it was just a trick of the sunlight or a mirage, but Steve's sharp, ice-blue eyes caught something out of the corner of his helmet's visor. It barely seemed like anything; like nothing more than a subtle difference in the texture of the sand and rock far to the left of the track extending out in front of him, "I'm seeing something a bit weird here. Get on the binoculars, will you, guys?"

"Why don't you do it?"

"Because I'm on a freakin' motorbike doing a hundred miles an hour, that's why." Steve muttered dryly as he trained his eyes further on the area in front of him, peering intently. There was definitely something out there- several somethings by the look of it. Whatever they were, they were the very same color as the desert all around Steve- which suggested to Steve that someone or something was going out of their way to hide them...

"Those are tents..." Obviously, Chloe had managed to get her hands on the binoculars inside the Jeep, and her voice now echoed with curiosity, "Quite a few of them, actually. I haven't got a clue what they're doing all the way out here, but if I had to guess, that's probably the encampment we were told to look for."

Made sense. As Steve cruised further up the trail, the structures became more clear, and sure enough, they did take on the form of tents- militarized ones by the look of it, square, blocky and quite nondescript. They seemed to be arranged in rows, interspersed by dirt tracks. As Steve stared further, he could even see figures out there patrolling a perimeter and keeping watch. On the far end of the encampment seemed to be a larger circular tent- obviously a base of operations of some kind. The trail ahead of them seemed to branch off a little further down the track, leading straight towards the encampment. Obviously, this was what they were looking for.

"Sounds like it. Alright, guys, follow my lead."

Five minutes later, the motorbike and Jeep rolled their way into what appeared to be an improvised parking lot, which was little more than a broad, smoothed-out section of gravel, split into bays by lines of stones. Steve found it easy to cruise his small bike into a position, but John's Cherokee was a bit of a tougher feat, taking a good minute before he was able to work his way into a parking position. Soon enough, however, they'd stopped and dropped out from the car, John in a white long-sleeved shirt, utility pants and shoulderbraces, and Chloe in a black light jacket pulled over a white tanktop and jeans.

They weren't alone. Standing directly in front of them, between their vehicles and the dirt path leading into the rest of the camp, were three men. The two on the left and right appeared to be dressed in long white trenchcoats, black slacks, polished shoes and white long-sleeved shirts, with what appeared to be some kind of rank markings on the shoulders of their coats. The man in the middle, on the other hand, was clad in a kind of double-breasted military jacket, which was also pure white, along with the same slacks and shoes as the other two men. The man in the middle was obviously the leader; he was a lean man with iron-gray hair and a short beard, a serious expression adorning his face as Steve approached.

"We were starting to wonder if you were ever going to show up." His voice, although quiet, was critical.

"Yeah, well, hightailing it through the desert takes time..." Steve peered at some of the markings on the man's jacket, "...Major?"

"Belton." the man replied, nodding affirmatively to the three, "Major Martin Belton. Welcome to Camp Argyle, Shuriken."

There was that name again. Shuriken. The man back at Club Paramount a couple of weeks ago had used it, and now this man with an obvious military bearing was using it too. This was getting curiouser and curiouser by the moment, and Steve once again had that familiar feeling in his stomach that made him wonder just what he was getting himself into again. He eyed Belton steadily for a few moments, then nodded back.

"Thanks. Don't suppose you'd like to explain what the heck you guys want by any..."

"No, I'm afraid I can't, Shuriken." Belton's tone was blunt as he shook his head, "I've been instructed to take you to the Praetor. No more, no less. Now if you'll follow me, he's on the large tent on the far end of the camp."

Without so much as saying another word, Belton turned on his heel and began to make his way up the gravel path in a steady, firm manner- almost like a military march. Steve, John and Chloe all looked between each other once, then followed behind them. Steve and John moved considerably further ahead, which gave Steve the chance to talk with his cousin as he cleared his throat.

"So, we gotta talk. What's up with you and Rhiannon?"

"Don't know what you're talking about, bru..." John feigned innocence at that, shaking his head. Steve, of course, wasn't quite so easily fooled.

"Come on, cousin, I wasn't born yesterday. One thing you need to know, John- I'm ridiculously perceptive. I wouldn't even waste your time trying to hide anything you do, because I can tell just by your posture, your facial expressions, your body language and all sorts what's going on. Dinner and dancing, wasn't it?"

"Well, yeah. It wasn't anything full on though, cousin. We didn't sleep together or anything if that's what you're asking."

"I don't really give a rat's what you do, John." Steve shrugged nonchalantly, "Ain't none of my business. I said Chloe was off-limits, sure, but Rhiannon? That girl's more than capable of handling herself, trust me. In fact, I wonder if you really know what you've gotten yourself into."

"What do you mean by that?" John's head jerked up, and the look in his eyes indicated he wasn't quite expecting to hear that. Obviously, the ladies' man indeed didn't know what he'd signed on for. Steve just chuckled quietly, shaking his head.

"Oh, nothing."

"What? You're hiding something, SJ."

"It's not my place to comment on it, John. You're gonna have to find out for yourself, although I'd wager you're in for a few surprises, my young friend. It's gonna be quite amusing to see."

"Yeah, well, you won't be the only one getting a laugh..." John cut Steve off dryly with a roll of his eyes, "You just reminded me, actually. I got word from Rhiannon not too long ago. Seems that she wants us four to meet up some time soon."

"'Us four'?"

"You, me, Chloe and Rhiannon."

"Are you actually suggesting Rhiannon wants a double-date of some kind?" That took Steve more than a little by surprise, a brow raising in a mixture of bafflement and amusement. John shrugged at that, obviously not quite sure himself.

"Well, I wouldn't call it that... I mean, OK, obviously we're going as a couple, and four kind of means two sets of two, but I don't think it was specifically set up as a double date. I dunno, it was Rhiannon's idea. But I think Chloe's probably going to ask you about it in the next couple of days, so keep your eyes open, eh?"

"Uh... alright, I guess..." Steve blinked a couple of times at that. He didn't have any more time to round out the conversation however, as they'd finally reached the tent at the far end of the camp. Two more white-clad guards, one man and one woman, stood by the makeshift doorway of the tent. They both took one look at Belton, then snapped salutes and stepped to each side of the doorway, clearing the way for them to step inside...

[TO BE CONTINUED]