For MamaBirdCat. A story challenge featuring Low Light in ten chapters.
The usual disclaimer: don't own not making a profit
The Road Goes on Forever: The Highwaymen
Chapter Six
What I Do Best
General Hawk was in his office. He was finishing a letter to PJ Knight. It was a roster of his best snipers. Knight was always interested in his snipers. The majority of the time Hawk ignored it. Those that were active duty signed a conflict of interest disclaimer. The ones that were retired were in the private sector. They were all loyal. It pissed PJ Knight off to no end. He was stuck with amateur circuit marksmen. They were the ones that could afford to spend on expensive equipment. They spent their time on the weekends shooting at targets. In those tournaments it was whoever had the best technology that won. And that usually meant the most money. PJ Knight wanted more. He wanted the real thing. More importantly he wanted Hawk's snipers.
It was under the guise of weapons testing. Hawk had no doubt it was lobbying by Knight Armament in DC that gave the official orders. The Knight KA 120 was still under review by Congress. That was the sniper rifle PJ Knight procured from M.A.R.S. in Sierra Gordo three months ago. It was taken apart, re-labeled, and packaged as a new weapon made for the military. It was a coup Hawk didn't want to be a part of. The alternative was having Destro and M.A.R.S. win the bid for the military contract. He couldn't allow that.
He looked over the list again. He sent Barrel Roll and Janack up first. They would be the first ones sacrificed. For Barrel Roll he chose Life Line to accompany. Each Joe would have an equal partner on the trip down to Florida. In Janack's place Hawk chose Cover Girl to go with her. She was the only woman on the list. She would need another woman to room with. Cover Girl was the easy choice. He had to think twice by sending Low Light and Trick Shot. They were his best. They would be unstoppable. They were the King's knights on his chess board. If he lost them PJ Knight would have a check mate. He rubbed his eyes. He would need a rook. That was his first player. He chose Beachhead to be his white rook. His fourth would be his eyes and ears. Beachhead never let him down.
For his last pawn he chose Ehrenstein. The law student was barely hanging on. He followed orders too closely. He didn't ask questions. In any other branch he would pass. General Hawk needed soldiers that could think on their own. Law told him as much. He would never be a lawyer if he went into court blind. He lacked confidence. This assignment was his last chance. He put his signature at the bottom. The next move was up to PJ Knight.
There was a knock on the door. It was Flint. They were ready for him in the situation room. They were all right on time. They stood up when he entered the room. Clayton Abernathy was from West Point. He was one of the few officers that saw combat. The Jugglers watched for him. They were the true players in this game. He commanded the most elite force in the world. His soldiers came from all branches of the military. He handpicked the best from the Navy, the Air force, the Marines, and the Army. In his hands they were dangerous. But it was their devotion to their commander that gave him real power. His soldiers followed him without fault. He could order three thousand or three hundred. Each man and woman would lay down their lives at his word. To them he was a threat.
Flint entered first. He started the meeting. Hawk's snipers were on their feet. He saw Low Light with his gear. He didn't doubt his best would pass his qualifications. Next to him Trick Shot didn't look his way. He stared at the movie screen instead. They were both sober. It was a good sign. Janack and Barrel Roll stood stiffly. It was their first competition. It would be Trick Shot's as well. Beachhead stood across the room from Cover Girl. He made a point not to look her way. He must think Hawk didn't know about their romance. He let it slide. If his drill sergeant had a reason to break the rules then it was worth the risk. He would probably marry the model. He deserved it.
General Hawk left Sharon Dixon on the morning of her last day. She made it a point to say that she was there to visit her son. The rest of the time she spent with Trick Shot until she left. She didn't answer his phone calls or text messages. She sent him a message stating that she was glad and appreciative that she met him. She knew that was the most they would have. While she enjoyed it she knew it wouldn't last. He denied it. He left phone calls to her cell phone that went unanswered. Sharon Dixon was in Missouri and he was in Utah. He hadn't heard from her since. That was two days ago. Trick Shot still looked pissed.
General Hawk waved them down. They took their seats. The auditorium lights dimmed. Behind him was a map of the United States.
"It's past Family Week and onto the annual sniper competition." General Hawk said. "You are here because you have been chosen to represent the GI Joe branch in six competitions across six states. The first qualifier will be held here on the Pit property. I'm sure each of you is familiar with the range."
They nodded as they looked. They would have home field advantage thanks to Low Light winning the competition last year. They smiled at him and started talking. General Hawk had to stand them down. Low Light didn't acknowledge it.
"Those of you who make it will move onto Cheyenne Mountain Colorado. That is the second leg of the competition. From there you will head to New Mexico at Kirtland. Don't let me down." He smiled. The third one was the most important one. "The next step is Fort Hood."
He heard a few Hoo yah's when they mentioned Texas. A lot of the Joe's spent their time there between Utah and Texas. They were getting more and more excited. This would be the best competition year yet. Of all the Joe's Low Light looked the most skeptical. He knew what was going on. He didn't have any other choice.
"You have a down time in Louisiana. Don't have too much fun on Canal and Bourbon Street." He looked at Low Light. "You have to get up early to make it to Fort Polk."
The crowd was getting louder. They were excited. General Hawk had to silence them down. "Beachhead" He said He looked at him over the podium. "You'll be glad to know you're going to be stopping in Mobile before you make it to the last stop in Florida." Hawk said.
"I expect nothing but all of you to make it to Port Canaveral and Titusville. Do me proud Joe's. You are dismissed." He saluted as they stood. They would be the ones proving themselves.
When they left Trick Shot was smiling. "Oh we are so going to blow those newbs out of the water. Can you believe it? Just give us the trophy now huh Low Light?" He said. He walked with him out to the range. "We got this."
He put his hand up for a high five but Low Light didn't reciprocate. He wasn't looking.
Low Light had his feet in front of him. Trick Shot had to stand on his left foot. "Nothing is guaranteed until the end." He said. "And you still out rank me. It's on you." He said.
Trick Shot didn't think about it before. He assumed Low Light would be the trigger man. This time the first leg would be his shot. Low Light was still a Private. He was his spotter not the shooter. He suddenly felt nervous.
"What?" He said. "You expect me to make the first shot?"
"It's on you Trick Shot. It has nothing to do with me." Low Light said. "I'm just your spotter. Look up. Here comes your competition."
Above them a dozen Huey's were making their way to the base. They set down on the airfield. The snipers came from all over the world. Each sniper had its own production. They were from Iraq and the military police stationed there. A woman was from Cuba. Of the next two were from Germany. They were trained by the United States. At the end was a Marine sniper from Paris Island. A camera crew followed him. He was a photogenic clean shaved sharp shooter that flashed a smile. He waved to the crowd. His jacket said he was an up and comer PJ Knight expected to finish at Titusville.
The production team followed him everywhere. He signed autographs.
Low Light and Trick Shot looked at each other.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Trick Shot said.
They didn't have time to talk before cameras were shoved in their faces. Low Light lifted his hand to block the glare. It was interfering with his goggles.
"Get that out of my face!" He said.
They had microphones on him before he knew it. They picked up on everything he said. He had his hands over his eyes by the time they stopped. A shadow showed up in his goggles. Low Light dropped his hand. He could see clearly now but he didn't want to believe it. He had to look again.
Willie Pete was walking towards him. He was in his sixties now but he was still trim. He had white hair and a salt and pepper mustache. He had the same half grin as Low Light. On his shoulder he held a Barrett M90. It was a bolt action sniper rifle from 1990 during the first Gulf War. He smiled. The cameras were watching him.
Willie Pete stood three feet away. Low Light almost punched him. The last time he saw him he could kill him. He still remembered. Willie Pete held out his hand. It hung in the air like an invitation. Low Light had to stop. His hand wavered. Pete Anderson and Cooper MacBride shook hands. It was the first time in twenty years.
When they met Low Light dropped his rifle. It was a station of honor. The man was past being legend and onto myth. His name was spoken only to a select few. He had more kills than anyone could count. It surpassed Low Light. He was Low Light's trainer. He spent five years with the man. He went simply by God. He taught him everything he knew. Outside of General Hawk he was the closest thing to a father figure Low Light had.
Their embrace was caught on film.
Low Light was just twenty two when God called on him. His commanders put him with him. He had the best eyes they saw in a long time. God took him under his wing. He was a hard student. He was stubborn and head strong. He had his own ideas. The scopes were all wrong. The barrels were too short. He could hit a target without thinking about it. He was bored. God tried to rein him in.
The kid wouldn't have it. He butt heads with him constantly. He wanted to do more. It was 1995. Low Light was past the deserts of Iraq and Kuwait. They were standard operations. It didn't interest him. Saddam Hussein and his regime were under control. It was South America that was the hot bed. The CIA was popular in Bolivia at the time. The rebels were strong. The United States was caught in a civil war that involved drug dealers and fundamentalists.
Low Light was in his element.
To make up for it God took him to the hardest areas he knew. That was where Low Light made his first kill.
It was past targets and onto kills. Low Light had to learn somehow. That night after his first shot God took him to a bar in Nicaragua. No one spoke English. He fed him whiskey and beer until Low Light couldn't remember. He pushed him off onto some dark haired bar whore that wouldn't ask questions. That was the start. Low Light wouldn't end it until twenty years later. It was Low Light and Trick Shot now. God watched him with the kid. Even after twenty years he still had affection for his student. He was doing well. He was the best. He was the one to beat.
God watched. It looked like Low Light had a student of his own.
"Mac." He said
Of anyone God was the only one that called him 'Mac'." It was s shortened version of MacBride. He smiled.
"It's good to see you. I've heard things about you. It looks like you've been doing pretty well." God said. "They say you're the one to beat."
After all of this time God was still proud of his student. He was more proud of Low Light than he was of the hot shot he was following around with the production crew. The kid had a talent but he was no sniper that God knew of. He only did it because the network wanted him to. He looked at Low Light and Trick Shot. In another twenty years it would be them.
God heard the whistle of the directors. The hot shot was posing in front of the firing range. He had a Knight KA 120 over his shoulder. He was looking in the camera and espousing the accolades of the new rifle. It was picture perfect but it was hallow.
God turned around.
End Chapter Six
What I Do Best