Bold- Spanish
Italics-Thoughts
Crossing the River
The Start
Jazz and I kicked major ass, or well, aft, I later learned was the word for it when you're talking to and about giant alien robots.
"So, how old are you kid?" asked Epps, snapping me out of my thoughts and back to the plane we were on for the next six hours.
"Huh? Oh, um, I'm fifteen," I said, sitting up.
"You're a really good shot for fifteen! Where did you learn to shoot like that?" Fig said.
"Thank you, my Dad taught me. Don't look so surprised Fig, I grew up speaking Spanish," I added when the Spanish soldier gave me a shocked look.
"English guys, English, and can someone translate?" Will said.
"He asked where I learned to shoot like I do," I said.
"I'd like to know that too, so?" Will asked
"My dad taught me," I said
"When?" Will asked
"I was seven; it took me a month to stop falling on my ass whenever I shot the gun," I said.
"Seven! What was your Dad thinking?"
"He was thinking that he might not return from a mission in Iraq. My Dad was in Spec Opps, he never knew if he was coming home or not," I said
"Oh shit, kid, I'm sorry, I didn't know," Will said.
"It's alright, I came to terms with it years ago, anyway I'm going to enlist when I turn eighteen and join the Burns Unit like my father did. So what about you guys?" I said.
"Wait, your Dad was in the Burns Unit?" Will said
"Yep, and I will be too," I said.
"One Question: what is the Burns Unit?" Jazz asked from where he was sitting in alt mode with the other 'Bots.
"The Burns Unit is a Spec Opps unit that is part of a greater minority called The Haymakers," I rattled off from memory.
"You sound like you have heard and said that a thousand times," Jazz said.
"History lessons come with the territory as I'm the daughter of the Burns Units SIC ,and the entire unit liked the black haired, blue eyed spitfire that hung onto her Daddy and 'gave hugs that warmed the world' as Aunt Mary used to say. Damn I miss Aunt Mary, Uncle Mix, and the rest of Burns," I sighed.
"Really?" Jazz said.
"They were family, are family, to me, and I grew up with them, so of course I miss them. They taught me the majority of what I can do, be it how to throw knives or how to play soccer, and saw me through most of my major mile stones besides my first kill," I said.
"First kill?" Jazz said.
"I was ten, and I almost ended up dead," I said.
"Where?"
"BattleBridge."
"Which is?"
"Blood Fighting arena."
"Blood Fighting?"
"Blood Fighting: fighting to the death for the enjoyment of a crowd,"
"Why?"
"Why did I do it? Power and self-confidence, not to mention a legitimate wish to die,"
"Why did you want to die?"
"My Dad had just died, my mom gave me up to the foster system, and the foster family I was with was abusive, all very good reasons to want to die," I said.
"Jeez kid, have you seen a therapist?" Will asked.
"Yeah, his name is Punchy the punching bag, and he is very effective," I said with a smile and a small chuckle.
"Um…" Will said.
"Yeah, I know, I need to see a psychologist. Anyway, what now?" I asked.
"We sleep," Will asked.
"I'm going to get some sleep and hope I stay asleep for the remainder of my time in this death trap," I said, yawning.
"Good idea, I'm going to sleep too," Will said.
I am really glad I decided to get in the transforming robot… and maybe I can trust Jazz too… that would be nice… to have a friend again… to trust again…