Killing Time
There were many things they could train into you. They could drill you, make you practice until your body screamed in protest, and when all else failed, they could beat it into you. Pain was a great motivator, after all. But what they couldn’t change, at the very heart of it, was who you were.
Bruno had been put through the steps from the moment he had joined ECHO. Everything had to happen on a schedule, something he had not been prepared for. He came to them as a simple kid with a meta talent for balance and coordination, but with nothing approaching the discipline needed to become a fighter. For him to achieve the proper maturity to be a valued member of ECHO, it required time and patience, something his trainers had little of. It wasn’t until reassignment, until Bulwark, who had picked him up, dusted him off, and with a brutal level of emotional detachment had hurled him through the steps of his own personal boot camp, that Bruno had begun to show signs of improvement.
You went through the steps, and you did them again and again and again until you got them right. And you kept doing them, until the muscle memory stuck, and before you knew it you were dashing across uneven terrain riddled with gunfire, you were anticipating your opponents’ strikes and formulating blocks and counters, you were learning how to disarm bombs and provide basic CPR in the eventuality of your medic falling in the field. You learned all these things, they could even become second nature to you, but they could never train you for everything. Even if they could, there were areas they wouldn’t touch, they couldn’t, not without stepping over certain lines. As much as ECHO needed fighters, needed well-honed warriors in the field, they had always drawn the line at making cold-blooded soldiers of their metas. There was something in the initial charter that stressed the strength of individualism in the meta-powered backbone of ECHO’s security forces. They would show you how to hold a gun, how to clean and fire one, but they weren’t about drilling you on how to feel about it. It was something they left to individual morals and experience.
As he kicked in the door to the safe-house and raced in, pistol first, Bruno wished that perhaps he had spent at least a little time auditing a firearms training course with a more emotional slant. “You and Your Inner Gun, 101” might have done wonders for him. The solid chunk of metal and reinforced polymers had never felt right in his hands. He had never actually had cause to shoot anyone, even in combat, preferring to stay with his strengths of evasion and basic hand-to-hand training. He had spent enough time on a firing range, and he was reasonably confident of his aim, though you’d never know it from the way his hands trembled around the grip. He had had all the training in the world, but he wondered if anything would ever make squeezing the trigger on another life a part of him.
It was Scope who had insisted on it. “We’re going to be barging in, and we have to move fast, Bruno! Use the surprise, get her on the immediate defensive. What would you feel more threatened by? The barrel of a magnum pointed at your head, or those little chew-toys you call your fists?”
She had a point. If only his hands would stop shaking.
“Clear!” Scope’s voice, heavy with disgust, rang out from the next room. Bruno lowered his weapon in relief. No, he didn’t think he would ever get used to a gun. What part of himself would he lose if he ever fired a slug into another person? He hoped he would never know.
The safe-house was, typically, in the middle of nowhere. They had come here chasing yet another lead on Harmony, but from the dismay in Scope’s voice it was clear that, once again, they were too late. With each lead, they found themselves just steps behind her, but the trail was always cold when they arrived. Except for the bodies. Each time, there was always a corpse left in her wake.
This time wasn’t an exception. Bruno joined Scope in a small makeshift office at the back of the cabin, and found Harmony’s mark sitting in his chair and slumped over his desk. Scope had fingers pressed to his neck. Bruno gave her a questioning look, and she simply nodded. This one was an inventor, an applied physicist, and like the others they had found him cold and lifeless, without a single mark on him, left as a rotting husk which would surely yield little more than probable signs of a stroke or heart attack.
He’d hoped with each new body they found, it would be easier. Like the thought of firing a bullet into a human being, each time hit him just as hard. So much for ease through experience. It was times like these that Bruno wondered if he was really cut out for this.
“This is getting stupid,” Scope muttered and collapsed on a nearby couch. “We’re never going to catch up to her at this rate.”
“She’s too fast,” Bruno agreed. “Anytime we get wind of one of her jobs, she’s already done it and gone. Same M.O. too. She leaves them without anything traceable, just drains them.”
“Yeah,” Scope said, covering her face with tired hands. “What the hell, do the sweep anyway. Maybe she left something behind this time.”
Bruno shrugged and began searching through the cabin for something, anything, that might give them a clue to what and where Harmony was planning next. He didn’t expect to find anything, they never did, and they would have to start at square one again, waiting to hear from questionable contacts about the latest assassination attempts with rumored links to Blacksnake.
As he searched, he found his thoughts sifting through old memories, back to a time when he had first met Scope and Harmony. As new recruits, they were a bit of a mess. Harmony had barely spoken, and when she did she quickly became agitated to a frenzied pitch of anxiety. She had shuffled about, her head down, her face hidden behind her long, golden hair. If you so much as touched her lightly on the shoulder, she would scream and run about while wringing her hands, like an unleashed banshee. Bruno remembered the first time Harm had lost it, how Scope had rolled her eyes, muttering that she was in hell. In those days, Scope walked around with a strut. Her attitude was simple: everything was under control, and everything was beneath her. She found fault in everything they did, and made a point to let them know the correct methods to fastening their gear, to assembling their firearms, even how to tie up their laces. At the time, she wasn’t what one would call a team player. Her disdain for their basic training regime, their limited field tasks, and her teammates, ensured they all kept a safe distance from her. Bruno was the opposite. All he wanted was to fit in, to be a part of a team. His eagerness to be useful might have been commendable, if he didn’t fail at almost everything he did. He did everything wrong, and from a deep desire to make the grade he was constantly second-guessing himself. It led to bad decisions, to fumbles and trips and falls over routine maneuvers he had done hundreds of times before. What he lacked was what Scope seemed to have in abundance—self-confidence. It took months to realize that Scope’s facade of inhuman superiority was simply over-compensation. Scope demanded a lot of herself, and others. She wanted to be the perfect soldier, the quintessential ECHO warrior, but at heart she wasn’t so different from him. They both lacked any real sense of self-worth.
Bull had seen their value, as he did with most of his trainees. Bulwark was a towering figure, immensely strong in mind and body, and channeled a protective field that could withstand insane amounts of punishment. Yet Bruno suspected Bull’s true power was his ability to size up an individual, to see through whatever mask a person chose to hide behind, and to nurture their true potential. Bull had done that for him, for Scope, and for countless others.
Which was what made this hunt so unbelievable. When they had received word of what had happened in Alex Tesla’s quarters, of how their boss had been murdered, how Bull had been left in a comatose state, and by Harmony of all people, Bruno and Scope began a long chase beset with wrong turns and dead-ends. They chased down any lead they could find on their former teammate, hoping to catch up with her, and to bring her down. With luck, they could even take her alive and bring her back to pay for her crimes. With each failed attempt, with every passing day, this seemed less and less likely. Forget bringing her in alive when they couldn’t even find her.
After an hour, Bruno gave up. As expected, there was nothing. The cabin was unbearably normal. Nothing seemed out of place, with just enough mess to appear as if the mark had been there for a few days before meeting his untimely demise. A few dirty dishes in the wash bin, some opened and rinsed food cans in the trash, an opened bottle of Hennessy on the kitchen counter and a dirty tumbler, and nothing else. He returned to the office, where Scope was meticulously going through the dead man’s laptop.
“Nothing,” he reported.
“And nothing here,” Scope snarled. “At least, nothing that isn’t encrypted to hell. No idea what this guy was working on, no idea why they wanted him dead…”
In a burst of rage, Scope slammed a fist down on the corpse’s back, and was rewarded with a dull thud. Bruno stiffled a chuckle, caught in the shame of such dark comedy. It took a moment, but he composed himself, and before he realized what he was saying…
“If it’s encrypted, then maybe we could ask…”
Scope silenced him with a sudden, rather unladylike gesture.
“No, Bruno, do not suggest that again!”
“But you know she can help, she can get past…”
“Forget it, we are not contacting Victrix on this. We decided already, or do we really have to go over this again?”
Bruno sighed and nodded. They were on their own. That was the price of going AWOL. They couldn’t risk contacting any of their former crew. Victrix could have worked her magic, literally, over any coordination efforts or computer hacking they needed. Djinni’s expertise on guile, infiltration and disguise might have placed them within the very bowels of Blacksnake itself, placing them within the heart of Harmony’s base of operations.
And Bull…
God knew if Bull wasn’t even awake, or alive. It was the one thought that kept them on task. They had to do this, for Bull.
So all their ECHO contacts were off-limits. It was too risky, too great a chance they would simply be hauled back and thrown in solitary for the duration. And there was no way ECHO would approve of what they were doing. If they ever did manage to catch-up with Harmony, they had decided that one way or another, she would answer for what she’d done. If she could be taken alive, great, but if not…
And there it was again. If they had to, they were going to…
Can I do that? Can I really?
It was a question that had plagued him since the day they had abandoned their posts in the ECHO compound, the day they had begun this not-so-merry chase for their former teammate. Harmony, who had once seemed like a sister to him. The girl who had always offered solace in the face of overwhelming self-doubt and despair. The girl who was quick to encourage, and never judge, who by the end Bruno had felt safe enough with to bare his soul to. That was the girl he remembered. As far as he knew, Harmony was the only one in the world who knew his true feelings about Scope, that he was hopelessly, desperately, in love with her.
Could he do it? If he had to, could he kill Harmony?
He didn’t know.
Scope, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have any doubts on the matter. She grudgingly admitted that, yes, if possible they would take Harmony alive, but she made no effort to mask her desire to plug many bullets into Harmony’s screaming body. For Bull, of course. Scope’s love for Bull had always been palpable to anyone with even a passing acquaintance with them.
God, we’re such a mess, Bruno thought. Wierd-ass love triangle, and oh look, some nifty revenge motifs, a coma victim and pacifist tendencies thrown in for good measure. New daytime series, coming this fall. These are the “ECHOes of our Lives”…
Bruno grunted, shook his head, and rubbed tiredly at his face. “Well, we’re going to have to mix something up, ’cause this just isn’t getting results.”
“I’m open to suggestions,” Scope said.
“There’s just one option left to us, y’know.”
“God!” Scope exploded. “Not that again! Blacksnake itself is off limits!”
“We’ve got nothing else!” Bruno protested. “You said it yourself, we’re on our own, so forget getting back-up. We need to get closer to the one place that we know Harmony checks in with. We have to get into Blacksnake!”
“And here we go again,” Scope groaned. “How many times do I have to explain to you that infiltrating Blacksnake is even riskier than calling in Victrix, the Djinni or Bella? You think they won’t have files on us? You think they won’t make us within the hour that we show up at their door? There’s still a recruiting war going on, both ECHO and Blacksnake have files on everybody. Let’s say we go with your idea, show up and apply as non-meta personnel, as simple mercs with some experience with firearms and combat, they’ll still recognize us by our faces! Dammit Bruno, we’ve got nothing. Nothing!”
Bruno stared at her. It pained him to see her so distraught. And she was right. They were out of options. There was really nothing left to do…
“Nothing left,” he whispered. “Nothing left, but go home.”
“Not necessarily,” a new voice grunted.
With a shout, they were up and armed, pointing their guns at a shadowy figure crouched in the corner. Slowly, the figure stood up, stepped into the light and lit a cigar, his face masked beneath the brim of a weathered duster hat. He took a slow drag and raised his head, reaching up to address them with a brief touch of his hat brim.
It was Jack.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Scope said. “And here I was, thinking I had no one to shoot today.”
“Might want to let an old man say his piece,” Jack said, “before you go firing that thing off.”
“Where did you come from?” Bruno exclaimed.
“Been following you both for a while now,” Jack answered. “Seems like we might have similar interests.”
“Oh this should be good,” Scope spat. “Go on then, tell us what we would have in common with the man who helped put Bull in a coma and Tesla in the grave.”
“Harmony,” Jack said calmly. “From what I can tell, you both have the same itch that I do. See, that desire for revenge? It’s awfully recognizable to those who share it.”
“And what would you want revenge for?” Scope asked, her eyes narrowing.
“Well, for starters, for setting me up,” Jack said with a shrug. “See, I came that day to your little corner of Atlanta with a genuine offer to make peace between Blacksnake and ECHO. Pool our resources, maybe get some good done for once. And I have to say, the negotiations were going just fine until Harmony had to up and knock me out and take out everybody in that damn room.”
“You really expect us to buy that?” Scope snorted. “Why would she turn on you, her boss?”
“I wasn’t really her boss now, was I?” Jack chuckled. “Oh, they played me good, I gotta admit, her and Verdigris, they set me up and I just took the fall.”
“Wait, Verdigris?” Bruno asked. “The billionaire?”
Jack shrugged. “He’s more a trillionaire, I think, but yeah. You two really have been out of the loop, haven’t you? Who do you think took control of ECHO after Tesla got his neck snapped by Harmony? Who had the shares, and the motive to have Tesla taken out of the picture? He did it old school, too. Big messy murder, a patsy to take the fall, and some market manipulation, leaving him the major shareholder in the company.”
“How would we prove that…?” Bruno started.
“Don’t know, don’t care,” Jack interrupted. “I’ll worry about Verd later, and it sure won’t involve a simple case of exposing his crimes. It’ll need to be a bit more…lingering, to satisfy my tastes. No, right now, I want Harmony. And you two seem like the best way to manage that.”
“What do you need us for?” Scope asked. “You’re still Blacksnake, right? I’m sure you can just…”
Jack shook his head in disgust. “Christ, I thought you two were smarter than this. Piece it together. After I came to, can you imagine that I might have taken some issue with the way I was played? Let’s just say Harmony, Verdigris and I didn’t end things too cordially. I get anywhere near them or the Blacksnake compounds, I’ll be taken out, guaranteed. What I’m offering is knowledge and supplies, on how to disguise yourselves, how to get in and stay undetected, to blend right in with the lower caste of merc forces. Get in close. Whether you snoop around for info and track her down, or can somehow manage to corner her in there, you’ll be able to get close to that bitch and put her down. Or at least have a shot at it. If you mess it up, I suppose I’ll have to find another way. But for now, this seems like the best way for me to deal with this pesky little itch of mine. And you two, you finally seem out of options, and desperate enough, to even consider trusting me enough to help you out.”
Jack took another drag on his cigar and chuckled.
“Took you long enough too,” he said.