Lair				Copyright 1998
	----				By Ben Christie.
					All Rights Reserved.

	He held the remote firmly in his hand.
	He could hear the iron lungs wheeze.
	He could feel the ground shake with each step.
	"Larcor," the deep, metallic voice called. "There's no
escape."
	Indeed there wasn't, as he glanced behind himself,
over the icy cliff to the frigid water below. The water was
dark, like the overcast sky. The land all shades of gray. He
turned back, gazing deep into Crider's crimson red eye.
	"Larcor, don't be stupid. If you press that button
you'll kill us both," he said calmly.
	Larcor knew he was right, but wasn't that why he
was sent here? To kill General Crider?
	"Larcor, give me the remote," he said, mildly,
extending his clawed metal hand. It glistened in the arctic
sun.
	Crider stepped closer, his clawed foot digging into
the frozen ground. "Give me the remote."
	Larcor was brave enough to face Crider on his own
grounds, but he was suddenly filled with terror. This
massive iron beast stood in front of him. His teeth like
spears. His arms like trees. His huge red cybernetic eye next
to his real eye. Larcor stared deep into that eye, the only
gateway to Crider's soul. He could see into his enemy
through it. See the torment of his life. See the anger in his
heart. See the true face of Crider. How could he kill Crider
now?
	"Give me the remote!" Crider growled.
	Then he realized the emptiness of Crider's eye. He
saw nothing in the General, just the remains of a once wolf
turned into a wicked monstrosity of technology. Twisted to
the needs of the enemy.
	He was the enemy.
	The enemy.
	Enemy.
	Stepping back, leaving no room between him and
the drop, Larcor held up the remote his hand and pressed
the--
	"Damn you!" he cried, rushing at Larcor.
	Like a train ramming a car, Crider's body slammed
into Larcor's chest. Both were sent hurtling over the bank's
edge. Both tumbled to the icy water below. Both hitting the
water hard.
	The splash exploded upwards into the sky, as the
two sank beneath the waves.
	The ripples calmed, the water fell silent and the
arctic was quite once again.
	In the distance the sounds of penguins splashing the
in water could be heard. Polar bears marched across the
snowy landscape. The wind blew through the dunes of ice
and snow. But in the water, the iceberg, Crider's Lair,
erupted. It's tunnel's caved it. It's room's collapsed. It's
bottom ripped open. It had begun to sink.
	Meters from the descending lair, a body ripped
through the water.
	Larcor breathed in the cool air.
	He had to get to land soon, before the water killed
him. Without hesitating, he made for the coast, only meters
from where him.
	Reaching land, he gripped the ice and pulled himself
from the water.
	Suddenly, he was rushed under. Water filled his
lungs and he coughed. Looking down he saw the
mechanical beast gripping his leg and pulling him down. His
claw grasped tightly around Larcor's leg.
	Then it released.
	Crider's body began to sink, enveloped by the murky
water.
	Soon it's figure was lost and only it's bright red eye
burnt through the dark.
	It sank and dimmed.
	Gone.
	Larcor burst through the water and hauled himself
onto the shore. There he stood and shook the water from
his fur. He still held the remote in his hand, the red button
pressed in and lit up. He tossed it aside and looked out,
across the water, at the sinking iceberg. Crider's bomb was
now sealed inside it forever. Sinking to a watery grave
where it will never complete it's destiny. Never detonating.
Never destroying the England. Crider would join the lair, it's
tip finally sinking beneath the waves.
	Larcor looked up into the sky, the clouds clearing
away. The sun emerged, and poured light onto the world.
	He smiled, hearing the distant rumble of helicopters.
	Larcor howled at the victory.
	His victory.
	Victory.
	At last.