After working for Dr. Artemis for 10 years, tenure has finally been granted, allowing Mr. Lamb to pursue some of his own research interests. He's also been granted a team of research assistants.
Following his daring escape from prison, Barney Lamb uses the remaining drones to create a small, secret base in Ohio. It is from that base that the attacks on American cities which terrorised the United States for four decades were launched. The capital cities of American states were full of life and laughter while daylight lasted, but when darkness fell their citizens barricaded themselves indoors and loaded their guns, waiting to see which city would fall victim to the criminal known only as ‘Lambda’ that night. Rumours of his fiery steed, the so-called Thoroughbred of Sin, and of his terrible drone armies which tore down buildings and skewered innocent citizens ensured Lambda gained something of a cult following among wannabe super-villains and his name was frequently mentioned every time a newspaper wished to sell more copies.
UNITED never could get the Aesir to understand the aura of fear which surrounded their good old friend Barney Lamb, winner of many, many drinking contests, who spent enjoyable weekends dancing on tables in seedy Asgardian taverns and running all over the Thirteen Worlds with Finnfrodr and Eric as they desperately tried to find out how he was able to out-drink them every time.
Justice in the form of Force Sierra eventually caught up with Lambda, but his ultimate fate remains uncertain.
Lamb sat at the saloon table, tossing the dice with a casual air. The pretty girl opposite him smiled, but she wasn't a patch on the loveliest woman he ever dated - the goddess Sif - and anyway he'd stolen all her jewellery the previous night. Lamb's eyes were on the man with the diamond cufflinks. Little trinkets, really, not worth the effort, but the excitement - the danger - that was what the theft was all about.
Behind Lamb, the door crashed open.
Framed by the setting sun, the armoured lynx stalked down towards Lamb.
“I've been looking for you,” Veurr growled. “We can prove everything. The attack on Baton Rouge in January. The rats in Nashville. Dover was almost destroyed by drones and we almost caught up with you in Salem if you hadn't ridden off on that damned nag.”
“The Thoroughbed of Sin,” one of the other Sierra members muttered.
“Phoenix was the last straw,” Veurr snarled. “You might think it funny to dare the inhabitants to rise from the ashes, but 1.5 million deaths isn't my idea of a joke.”
“They looked so pretty with their skin peeling off,” Lamb drawled, putting his boots on the table and leaning back nonchalently. Veurr noticed Lamb's eyes were fixed on the skylight and pre-empted an escape attempt, leaping onto the other man and worrying at his body, tearing off the arms and throwing them over to other members of Force Sierra to be grilled for tea later. Lamb's clones burst through the door and under their fire Sierra were forced to retreat, but Lamb collapsed to the floor, blood soaking down his shirt.
“Look… for me…” he whispered, slumped in a pile, breathing slowly. “Tell… tell the people of Sacramento… to lock their doors at night.”
Veurr watched his last breaths and grabbed for the WRAITH collar, intending to destroy it. To his horror, as Lamb took his last breath, little wings sprouted from the back of the WRAITH collar and it fluttered quickly around Veurr's head before zooming out of the skylight and darting across America.
Veurr snarled. “Regroup, everyone! Follow that collar!”
Force Sierra set out into the night.
***
The collar settles onto the black robot suit with the large yellow Λ on the front. There is silence for a minute or two, and then the systems whirr into life. Lambda practices moving the robot body for a while, then leaps from the shelf and runs out of the door. Bad Horse canters up to meet him and Lambda swings himself onto his back with a triumphant cry.
“California, here I come!” Lambda cries, and rides off into the west.