The large bald man drew back his fist and struck, causing at least two of American Eagle’s ribs to break.

He coughed up blood, and just hung there helplessly. The man smiled and drew back to hit him again.

“Wait” ordered the Chinese man standing to one side. He was physically unimposing; a short, seventy year old man, with white hair and a walking stick. However, anyone who saw him always shivered, something about him didn’t sit right. It was as if there was some indication that the small Chinese man was a Snakehead, a man in charge of one of the world’s most dangerous criminal empires.

He walked up to American Eagle and tapped him with the stick “You are in a city thousands of miles from home, beaten, bound and helpless, hanging here for eleven hours. You have broken ribs —”

“Three. But who’s counting?” replied the Eagle through swollen lips.

The Chinese man nodded, and the large Thai kick boxer walked up and struck the Eagle square in the abdomen with a foot the size of a toboggan.

“Do not interrupt me, American” the Chinese man ordered calmly, straightening his silk suit “It will serve you no good, and will only increase the pain we put you through when we kill you.”

He walked back to the table where he had been standing an picked up a small pistol. Checking that it was loaded, he then walked back to the Eagle, and looked him in the eye.

“Where are your friends? Where is the traitor, Abdul?”

American Eagle stared back, deadpan. He waited a second, looking for the tell tale signs of a man losing his patience. He saw a flicker in his interrogator’s eye, and then he struck, kicking out with both feet.

The man fell to the ground, and he dropped his stick. The kick boxer picked him up and got his stick.

“How did he do that? I told you to strap in his hands and feet” roared the little man in Thai, his face livid with anger, his neatly combed hair and pressed suit a mess.

“I did, sir” the kick boxer looked at the Eagle, and noticed something.

“He’s not wearing his boots. His boots are strapped in, but his feet are out” American Eagle noticed that the Thai boxer’s voice sounded funny, slightly breathy. That, combined with his face, showed he had been hit in the face several times, his nose seemed to have been broken several times, and his face was no longer symmetrical. Not that I’m one to talk, thought the Eagle, his own face a patchwork of bruises and scars.

Having released his feet, he then pressed them against the wall, bending his legs, and pushed. Using his legs as a fulcrum, he was pulling as hard as he could to bend the shackles on his hands. The pain was becoming unbearable, sweat running down his face. The Snakehead picked up his pistol and pointed it at Eagle, swearing in Chinese under his breath.

Eagle spat at him, causing him to lose focus long enough for Eagle to slip his hands out of the stretched shackles. He fell to the ground, screaming in pain. He got to his hands and knees and started to stand up.

Just then the kick boxer kicked Eagle in the stomach, causing him to collapse again. He groaned, and the kick boxer pressed his foot onto Eagle’s upper back, pinning him to the ground. The Snakehead walked up to Eagle and cocked the gun. Eagle’s mind raced, attempting to find a way out of this. His belt was on the table and his suit was in tatters; cape ripped from his shoulders, bulletproof padding torn apart by sharpened knives and his mask ripped from his head and thrown on the floor.

“Goodbye, you American piece of scum”

Snakehead pulled the trigger.

*****

“I’m telling you, birdman, we’ve hit a wall.”

It is eleven days before Eagle is being tortured as to the whereabouts of his team. The Fearless Falcons and American Eagle are hiding in a warehouse on the river, one of the few not owned by Chen Exports, one of the largest trading companies around.

“We’ve played tourist for two weeks now, and not even a whiff of drug trading. Face it, we’ve been had.”

American Eagle stood and paced back and forth “I don’t believe it. Not a single deal in two weeks? This town has more than its share of lowlifes, and not one of them is on drugs? I think we have been had, but not as you think. I think this Snakehead person has gone underground, he knows we’re here somewhere, and he obviously has a hand in law enforcement.”

No-one on the team had much experience in Thailand, and being Americans with no clear reason why they were there, they had each been picked up several times by police, questioned and then sent on their way.

Luckily American Eagle had prepared for this, spending all of October tracking down the man named Snakehead and then preparing the trip to Bangkok. The problem was that it was the capital city. He couldn’t just fly the team in under night cover and then have them tear up the place. They had to go in without weapons, without uniforms, and search like tourists.

So he spent some money on getting them in through the airport, fully aware that he was unable to do the same as a famous millionaire who was supposed to be in Europe. So the majority of the team flew in on the weekend of October 20th and 21st. Eagle Kayne (who for some reason wasn’t allowed to fly into Thailand, he wouldn’t disclose why) and Reece, their pilot, arrived in Thailand by other means, and drove into Bangkok. He had purchased the warehouse as storage for the Lord Wagner Foundation. He actually did call Angela Ferguson, who was in charge of running the company in his absence, and had some stuff sent there, so that the Foundation could help in Thailand next year, as part of a plan. His men were all booked into hotels around town, and were acting like ordinary tourists, except when meeting here in the warehouse with Eagle.

It bothered him that the men hadn’t seen his face, as he trusted them with his life on a day to day basis, and vice versa. But they seemed content with him being just American Eagle, although the way he threw money around did pike their curiosity.

So, he was in a mask for every meeting, but sometimes not wearing the costume. And more often than not he wouldn’t wear the voice modulator, a gadget with ridiculously high maintenance. It was Eagles least favourite device, but it was necessary around police or media, people who were trained to recognise voices.

The warehouse had security set up on it, and they would conduct meetings with someone always watching the monitor, because both the local police and the Snakehead were out for them.

American Eagle paced back and forward, his cape creating a nice flowing effect, making the movement seem more dramatic.

“I’m thinking we need to take up the offer from Abdul” he said, and waited for the fireworks.

“No way, Eagle, you know that is a trap. Nobody in an organisation like this gets anywhere by getting squeamish, so he must either be a trap or a no-one, a gunman with delusions of grandeur. Not worth getting killed over” said Cheese.

Eagle stood firm. “What if he’s legit. What if the deal we’ve been chasing was a trick, and the big score is going down next week. We leave now, we lose our chance of stopping one of the biggest drug trades of the year.”

Abdul Hassa was a man who organised the Snakehead’s legitimate business interests, he was a managing partner in the Bangkok chain of Chen Exports. He personally had problems with giving drugs to children, but by working in a job were no-one got hurt directly he could accept the bonuses with a clean conscience. However, Abdul had been noticing that some irregular shipments had been made, and he started tracking them. In several cases the signatures had been that of Mr. Sukit, widely regarded as Snakehead’s right hand man. Mr. Sukit was the man who signed when Snakehead didn’t want to leave a paper trail, but wanted something done.

One particular case that Abdul notice was a shipment of food to some Daji refugee camps in China, nice and cheap with a good return profit. However, he later heard news that two Daji refugee camps had suffered nearly 92% casualty rates. Some backtracking revealed that the food had originated from a Jinga extremist group, an ethnic group who hated the Daji’s more than anything. Snakehead had used Abdul’s services to aid in ethnic warfare and mass murder.

That was the final straw for Abdul, and he started gathering evidence to hand over to the authorities. He knew that there was a very slim chance of both this evidence seeing the light of day and him surviving, but he knew he had to do something. When he heard rumours of the international drug buster American Eagle coming to Bangkok searching for the Snakehead, Abdul instantly felt he had a chance. He started reaching out, sending two messengers to track down some of these Americans.

One was successful and returned. Abdul was still waiting for the other one to return, but was starting to think that he had better take out life insurance.

*****

American Eagle was hanging onto dear life by his fingers.

He was holding onto a support beam above a bar, listening to Kayne and JR talk to Abdul through a radio link in his cowl. Eagle tried not to notice the fact that the only thing between him and a rusty, corrugated tin roof was eight feet of air, instead focusing on the conversation. It was November 7, eight days before American Eagle was being tortured.

“So, you can help us find the Snakehead?” asked Kayne, who wouldn’t waste a word if you paid him.

“I thought I would be talking to the Eagle. I am glad you met me, but I don’t have time to waste going through underlings. If the Snakehead finds out I came here, I’m dead.”

“JR” said American Eagle, speaking into his radio “tell him that if his life is in danger, he has to completely open up to us. He has nothing to fear from us, and everything to fear from the Snakehead.”

JR passed on the message, then quietly replied “There’s someone at the bar, boss. He has a gun under his jacket, and he’s calculating the angles. I’m getting a bad feeling.”

“You’re sniper eyes are a blessing, JR. Keep an eye on him, and call as soon as he twitches” Eagle adjusted his grip, and hung some more.

The conversation went back and forward for another two minutes, then Abdul finally gave in, handing over an envelope to Kayne.

“Eagle. Our guest is making his move.” JR said, his eyes sharp as lasers.

“I’m coming in” said American Eagle, letting go of the beam.

He fell onto the roof, curled into the foetal position, and felt the roof cave in. He waited a second longer, and then unfurled, watching chaos around him. People were running everywhere, and he looked around.

He saw JR get up and run at the watcher, never taking his eyes of the long haired Thai man. JR picked up a glass, and smashed the man in the face.

Watched as two more men on the other side of the room pulled out stock-folding machine guns, and opened fire on Abdul and Kayne.

And watched as the bartender, a large Thai man with a broken nose, pull out an honest-to-god katana.

First things first. JR could take care of the first gunman, but the two automatics were a bigger problem.

Eagle pulled out two talons, and threw them at the gunmen. The first caught the guy in his hand, the second struck the barrel of the second guy. He then followed up by shooting a taser gun into the katana wielding bartender. Spinning around, he pulled out a collapsible steel baton, and struck the two gunmen in the knees.

In a matter of seconds, the only men standing were American Eagle, two Fearless Falcons and Abdul. All the other bar patrons were gone.

Eagle turned to Abdul “It’s a pleasure to meet you Abdul. I hope we didn’t frighten you. But this appeared to be the best way to protect you, or my men, if this meeting turned unpleasant.”

Abdul just stared, mouth on the ground.

“Well, I believe we have transport awaiting us. Let’s move before more unfriendly characters come along.”

And with that, Abdul Hassam was running with the Falcons

*****

“... and I found out that over three hundred Daji children were killed, all because the Snakehead wanted some money. Those children would still be alive if I had bothered to open my eyes, to see what the Snakehead was doing. But I was blinded by greed. I’m sorry.” Abdul finished recounting his tale, and hung his head. He was an average sized man, attempting to pass himself off as plain. But his coffee coloured skin was too clean, his hair had been washed recently and his nails freshly manicured. Trading a real Rolex for a fake, and a custom suit for a store bought was not enough to fool the Falcons.

But his pain was real, and American Eagle put his hand on Abdul’s shoulder “Abdul, if you want to honour the memories of those children you will help us shut down the Snakehead”

Abdul nodded, his face swollen with tears “I know, Eagle. And I wish to help, but I don’t see how”

“If we can stop his shipments we hit him where it hurts. If he loses money that’s one thing, but if he loses money and hundreds of angry drug dealers come to collect, that’s another. We need to hurt him hard and fast.”

“Wait!” Abdul stood, his eyes wild “What is the date? The new moon is when he ships out to the Caribbean, and then onto America. If you can stop that shipment, he will not be happy.”

Eagle turned to Reece “Eight days boss. Eight days before the new moon.”

“Well, then. Let’s get ready.”

*****

For the next eight days, American Eagle and the Fearless Falcons prepared to shut down what Abdul described as ‘Snakehead’s largest shipment this quarter.’ With the American Eagle nearby, the Snakehead was sure to be nervous, and would have extra security on that night.

Eagle used these eight days to quietly obtain supplies. He had figured out long ago that for every three throwing knives he threw, only one ended up back in his belt. They weren’t the most expensive item on his belt, but they were the most used. And ensuring they couldn’t be traced back to Nathan Wagner or the Foundation was an arduous task. Eagle had never touched one without gloves, ensured that no micro signature was ever etched into them during manufacture, and ensured that the alloy was uniform, but not a unique blend of metals that could be traced to the manufacturer.

Ensuring his supplies came without the Falcons noticing the crates was difficult, as Eagle had yet to devise a shipping strategy that didn’t have the Foundation logo splashed all over the crates. The other problem was that it wouldn’t be too difficult for someone with Abdul’s connections to find out who was registered as the owner of the warehouse. If Abdul got cold feet, he could attempt to bargain with the Snakehead with not only the Falcons, but clues to Eagle’s identity.

Thus far Abdul had shown no signs of wanting to chicken out. He provided them with every bit of detail on the shipyard and how the guards were likely to be posted. He answered every question the team had on the Snakehead’s organisation. Two days before the shipment.

“Truth to tell, I don’t know that much. This organisation runs on a need-to-know basis, and I only need to know about the exports. They could be trading weapons or selling slaves down the street, and I would never know that the vendor was working for the same man I am...was” he looked troubled, but continued “As for the Snakehead, he could just as easily be an American housewife and I would never know. I have not heard him speak, nor seen him at all. By conducting large amounts of legitimate business through my company, Snakehead distances himself from any paper evidence for criminal activity. A man named Mr. Sukit signs on the dotted line for any business that the Snakehead doesn’t want to be tied to, including the murder of hundreds of children.”

“So this Snakehead person could be anyone, and you wouldn’t know it?” asked Kayne, thinking hard.

“I said as much, yes. Why?” Abdul stared at Kayne in confusion, tilting his head to the side.

“Could be that the Snakehead is less mysterious than you think. He could be someone in Chen Exports, someone you’ve met many times before”

“How do you figure that?” asked Eagle, his interest piqued.

“Well, to get the best information you don’t hide in an ivory tower, you go down to the streets. A gang of bikers were shut down three months before we started this. The leader was like this Snakehead, real man of mystery. The police do some digging, put the pressure on them. It turns out the big leader, who earns thousands in illegal activity was the bartender of their hangout.”

American Eagle nodded, thinking “That makes a lot of sense. People tell bartenders more than they ever mean to, so that’s the logical person to be when you want to know everything.”

Abdul shook his head slowly “No, I do not think that is the case here. With this much secrecy, and such a diverse empire, the Snakehead wouldn’t be able to just sit behind a desk and hear everything. As far as I am aware, Chen Exports is but a fraction of his organisation. It gains him nothing to be in my office. An underling? Perhaps, but not the boss.”

“Fair enough, it was worth a try” said Eagle, thinking to himself “Now we need to set up for the night. Not tomorrow but the next night we cause this mystery man some financial difficulty.”

*****

November 11th 11:48pm

American Eagle sat down in front of the video phone.

“Alright, tell us what you know about this Snakehead” he said to the person on the other end of the line.

“From what you’ve told me, Abdul has told you pretty much the basics, but he doesn’t know who he’s working for, exactly.

There are stories of a shadow organisation in Asia, a group who trade in every commodity known to man. It has many names: the shetou or ‘Snakehead’, the Dragon Claw, the Shadow Society, the Serpent Nest.

The CIA call it Snakehead, the name given to the highest ranking members, MI6 call it Serpent Nest, and the Israel Intelligence Service known as the Mossad know more of the organisations history, calling it Shetou.

Whatever name it’s known by, the organisation operates all around the world, seemingly unhindered. Munitions, drugs, stolen artefacts and artworks all pass through this network, along with slaves, illegal immigrant labourers and human organs. Through the variety of merchandise and nationalities working for them, they exist for one common principle: money. No religious beliefs, country flags or political power drives them; they exist for riches.

This makes them rather dangerous, because it removes some of the barriers that stop other criminal elements.

Basically, you’re fighting people who will do anything to keep their wealth. You can’t appeal to them morally, and unless you can pull hundreds of thousands, even millions of dollars out of thin air, you can’t deter them financially.”

“What was that about the title ‘Snakehead’, you’re saying there’s more than one?” asked Eagle

“That is the hardest question to answer. This is a secretive organisation, hiring people to do jobs without removing them from their job. IRS can’t touch them, they’re too smart. If we catch someone in the act, they can deny any association. Or, they can pretend that they are a mastermind, a Snakehead, and hand over a bunch of nobodies to law enforcement. Then the real Snakehead simply lays low for a short time, and then start up somewhere new. We just don’t know who is telling the truth or not.”

“I suppose it doesn’t help that most local law enforcement is in the pocket of the Snakehead”

“No it doesn’t.”

American Eagle leaned forward and crossed his fingers. “Can we trust Abdul? Is he telling the truth about that Chinese incident.”

“Well, it happened. But the real question is, did the Snakehead organise it. If he was the inside man, he’s the only one with the story from that side.”

“You don’t trust him.” It wasn’t a question.

“Well, I think his turning coat and bringing you a full blueprint of the biggest drug deal. If he had the details, the Snakehead trusts him. And if the Snakehead trusts him...”

“We shouldn’t?”

“Occam’s Razor says so, but the other simple explanation is that he only knows what he’s been told, and that the Snakehead has a backup plan that Abdul doesn’t know about. He could be completely on the level, and your men will still walk into an ambush.”

“Not a very positive outlook, then”

“No, but if anyone can get out of this, it’s you.”

“Thanks. You know that statement doesn’t guarantee victory. What if no-one can get out of this?”

“In that case? It was nice knowing you.”

“Well, as usual you’ve managed to improve my outlook. Instead of a single crime boss, I’m up against an organisation that baffles the CIA.”

“It was my pleasure. Be careful.”

“I will” American Eagle ended the call and went to sleep.

*****

The freighter was large and old, but nothing about it attracted attention. If Abdul hadn’t told the Falcons which dock, they would have missed it. Even the freighters name, Liberty Star was ridiculously commonplace. But the armed guards on the ramp up to the boat raised suspicion. As did the snipers on the ship, and the few wandering homeless people wandering the dock were not very convincing carrying automatic pistols under their clothes.

“Okay people. This is it. JR is in position, the shipment is being loaded, and some Gelled Slurry Explosives are currently sitting in each of your pockets” Eagle shot a look at Randall.

“What? You did say big and loud.”

“Yes, but daisy cutters?”

“They’ll do the job. That ship is going no-where.”

Eagle shook his head “Either way, this should be alright. The Snakehead seems to have confidence in these men he has all over the ship, so let’s get going.”

Abdul was with JR on top of a nearby building. This way he was out of harm’s way, but still kept in the loop. He could update the team if anything came up.

“Here’s how this works” American Eagle explained as they hid under a crane. In the new moon there was no chance of them being spotted, but he still kept cover.

“Reece is backup and transport, hidden away for a quick exit, JR on the roof as cover fire, and babysitting Abdul.

“We’ll move along close to the water in the dark, making strikes against anyone suspicious along the way.

“I’ll break off just before the ramp, you guys do the whole police thing. Yell freeze and get them focused on you. There’s four on the ramp according to JR, and that will pose no problem for me. I’ll jump them from behind, and then up the ramp.

“There we split; Randall and Dufrain go to the rear, set up a bang in case we can’t get the captain’s cabin under control.

“JR will take out the snipers once I get their attention, and we can secure the cabin. We give the captain a chance to surrender, call the cops and sink the boat.

“Too easy”

Legacy and all characters contained within ™ and © 2009 David Kachel.
Metahuman Press and all related content ™ and © 2003-2009 Nicholas Ahlhelm unless otherwise noted.
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