RISE OF THE SOVEREIGN SOLDIER

Chapter 1: The Dust of Oakhaven

The rain over Oakhaven Metro always tasted like copper and wet ash.

Logan Vance adjusted the collar of his cheap blue security uniform. He kept his gaze fixed on the cracked pavement outside the service entrance of Sterling Plaza.

To people rushing inside to escape the rain he was a nameless piece of human scenery. Guard Vance. He was a twenty-four-year-old drifter who worked the graveyard shift for minimum wage.

No one looked at his eyes. If they did they might have noticed they were the color of flint. He tracked every exit, every spot in the security cameras and every luxury vehicle pulling into the VIP bay with lethal precision.

An armored Maybach stopped. The door. A young man stepped out wearing a tailored wool coat. Julian Sterling. He was the heir to the Sterling empire and the son of the man who had ruined Logan's life five years ago.

Logan didn't move. His pulse remained steady. Five years ago Logan was the Supreme Commander of the Vanguard. He had bled for the flag, led men through hell and broken enemy lines.

When he found out about a treasonous arms-smuggling ring, his own superior. Commander Silas Sterling. Had framed him for treason. They took away his medals, called him a traitor and left him to rot in the desert with a bullet in his chest.

They thought they buried a corpse. Logan thought, his fingers tightening against his flashlight. They didn't know they were planting a seed.

"Hey! Security! Are you deaf?" A sharp voice broke Logan's thoughts. He turned his head slightly. Three men in leather jackets were cornering a man in a greasy mechanics jumpsuit.

Logan's eyes narrowed. The man in the jumpsuit was thin. His left leg dragged uselessly on the concrete withered from an injury. He clutched a toolbox to his chest like a shield.

"Please " the mechanic stammered. "I told Julian's men... I just need one week. The garage didn't make enough this month to cover the protection f*e."

"The Young Master doesn't care about your sob story, gimp " the lead thug sneered. He slammed a fist into the mechanic's chest.

The mechanic crashed to the concrete. The rusted toolbox spilled open scattering wrenches into the puddles. He let out a cry of agony as his crippled leg buckled under him.

Logan's heart violently stuttered. It was Marcus "Ghost" Hayes. Five years ago Marcus was the tech and reconnaissance officer of Vanguard.

The genius who could hack a satellite with a laptop was being kicked like a dog in the mud by low-level street thugs. He was. Destitute because Silas Sterling had blacklisted every single person loyal to Logan's name.

"Hey look at me when I'm talking to you!" the thug barked. He raised a heavy steel pipe over Marcus's head. "Since you can't pay we'll just take your leg as interest."

Marcus closed his eyes bracing for the blow. He never felt it. A shadow fell over him. Logan moved fast and defied human reaction.

Before the steel pipe could descend Logan's hand clamped around the thug's wrist. The grip was like a press. The thug gasped. His eyes widened in pain as the bones in his wrist began to grind together.

"What the hell? Who are you—" Logan didn't answer. He didn't speak. He stepped into the thugs' space. His shoulder connected with the man's chest in a surge of kinetic force.

The thug flew backward crashing into the brick wall with a thud before collapsing into a heap, unconscious. The other two thugs froze, stunned by the attack.

"You want some too?" Logan asked. His voice was low, flat and devoid of any emotion. It was the voice of an executioner.

The remaining two looked at their broken leader. Then they looked at Logan's stance. Panic seized them. They grabbed their partner and dragged him into the darkness of the alleyway fleeing like rats.

The alley fell silent save for the drumming of the rain. Logan exhaled slowly. He dialed back the aura that had filled the space.

He knelt in the puddle. He picked up a wrench and placed it gently back into the rusted toolbox. Then he extended a hand to the trembling man on the ground.

Marcus looked up. He wiped rain and blood from his eyes. He took Logan's hand. He let out a groan as he was pulled to his feet.

As he looked closely at the security guards face under the flickering neon light Marcus froze. His breath hitched in his throat. "L... Logan?" Marcus whispered.

His voice cracked with a mix of disbelief, grief and terror. "No. It can't be. You're dead. They told us you died in the desert..."

"The desert couldn't hold me, Ghost, " Logan said softly. He used the call sign. Tears instantly mixed with the rain on Marcus's cheeks.

"Logan... They ruined us. After they framed you they took everything. We're hunted. We're nothing." "You are still Vanguard, " Logan said.

His voice rang with authority. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek obsidian-black titanium card with a glowing silver emblem. The mark of Aegis Oblivion.

He pressed it into Marcus's trembling hand. "Take this. There is an account linked to it with ten million dollars. Get your leg fixed. Hire security. Vanguard does not beg."

Marcus stared at the card. His jaw dropped as the weight of what this meant crashed over him. "Logan... What are you going to do?"

Logan looked up at the glittering glass of Sterling Plaza. "I'm going to take my city, " Logan murmured.

Before Marcus could speak Logan's earpiece crackled to life. The frantic voice of the chief of security blared through the static.

"All units! All units to the penthouse level immediately! We have an emergency breach! Someone just bypassed the locks on Commander Silas Sterling's private office.

Whoever it is... They left something on his door. It's an insignia. A dagger wrapped in a snake. Oh God... The Vanguard is back!"

Down in the rain Logan smiled. A cold terrifying grin. He looked at Marcus one time. He. Walked back, into the shadows of the building ready to face the storm.