The Strike Trilogy Read Online Free

fail it.”
    Jonathan stood up. “You have nothing to worry about, sir. Everything is ready. The storm will come tonight.”
    Vincent pulled his chair out. “Yes, it will.” He motioned toward the door. “Thank you, Jon.”
    When he was once again alone, Vincent sat down behind his desk with his drink and looked through his photo album.

    Meanwhile, outside of Vincent’s office, one of the skyscraper’s many green-skinned guards was standing in the hallway, listening to all that had transpired. As he watched Jonathan walk away from the office and down a flight of stairs, the eavesdropping guard quickly walked away in the opposite direction, before entering one of the skyscraper’s empty dining rooms. Spotting a balcony high up near the ceiling, he ran to it, leapt, flipped, and landed on its floor with a soft clack of his boots. In front of him, there was a door on the balcony, so he quietly entered it, shutting it behind him.
    After moving down a long corridor and away from the balcony, the guard soon found himself in the skyscraper’s main kitchen. A chef was walking toward him, so he ducked behind a corner and retrieved a metal, ballpoint pen-like device from his pocket with a button on its top. After he clicked the button, his appearance changed from that of a green-skinned guard to that of a green-skinned chef, complete with white chef jacket and white chef hat.
    With his new disguise in place, the mysterious guard-turned-chef nodded “hello” to the other chef, walked through the kitchen, and eventually found himself in front of a large storage room, which was filled with shelves of cooking utensils, cardboard boxes, and crates of food. After watching the other chef leave the kitchen, the guard-turned-chef stepped into the storage room, closed its door, and clicked the button on his device one more time.
    This time, the man’s true identity was revealed: he was Orion Hobbes, a tall, thin black man, with grey hair and glasses. As nearly always, he was wearing black boots, a long red coat that reached his knees, and a quiver of arrows and bow on his back. Leaning against the storage room door, the old man closed his eyes and sighed, tired and worn.
    But then there was a knocking at the door. “Hey!” somebody shouted from the other side. “Who’s in there? Open this door immediately!”
    Orion jumped up. After using a long wooden table to barricade the door, he quickly stepped behind one of the metal shelving units. Hiding there, and peering out between the shelves, he reached behind him, grabbed an arrow from his quiver, pulled it back in his bow, and aimed it at the door. The arrowhead began to glow bright red.
    After three loud BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! ’s rattled the door, it was smashed open, and three green-skinned guards entered the room. However, the first was immediately blasted back by an arrow that exploded in a bright red flash against his chest and sent him flying into the kitchen.
    Stunned, the second guard stepped forward and fired his gleaming, silver laser rifle. But, Orion dodged the green laser beams, jumped up onto a stack of crates, pulled his bow back, and shot another exploding arrow, all in one fluid motion.
    The third guard, amazed at how an old man could move so fast, focused on his target and was able to shoot the bow out of Orion’s hand. However, the old man was unfazed; as he avoided the next series of lasers, he ran down a long metal shelf, leapt toward a hanging pipe on the ceiling, swung around it, and threw another arrow with his bare hand.
    In a red streak, the whistling arrow pierced the air, struck the guard in his chest, and slammed him against the wall with a BANG! After sliding down the wall in a heap, he joined his other two mates on the floor, unconscious.
    Letting go of the pipe, Orion dropped to the floor and picked up his bow. He was suddenly exhausted; with his body hunched over and his lungs wheezing for air, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small