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Interstellar Marines: Predators
Chapter 6: Deadliest of the Species
Oh God oh God oh God oh God...
"That's it...hold still for little old me."
Oh God oh God oh God oh God...
"Nice evening. Sorry I have to spoil it."
Oh God oh God oh God oh God...
"...you don't talk much, do you..."
...what?
Myrda had heard a voice, but it wasn't that of a saviour, let alone deity. Rather, it was the process of being brought back to reality by the person who was in a position to remove her consciousness from it. A person who looked like an old woman, yet was juxtaposed with her stealth suit and her pointing a sub-machine gun at her prisoners.
"Is this a joke?" the scientist murmured, meeting the assailant's gaze. "You expect us to take you seriously at-..."
The assailant swung her gun arm, knocking Myrda's jaw and sending her sprawling into the pavement.
"I said you didn't talk much," the assailant murmured. "Would have been best if you'd kept to that."
Groggily getting to her feet, the scientist silently agreed. Fellman however, whose forehead was yet to feel the warm tingly feeling that blood brought, wasn't so willing to comply.
"I know you..." the security guard murmured. "That suit..."
"Yes...a stealth suit. Usually used in space operations where body heat plays a key role in the sub-zero temperatures of vacuum. Also has the nifty ability of amplifying user movement."
"That's ITO technology..."
"No shit deary," the old woman sneered. "And...hmm, you look familiar as well."
"I should..." Fellman snarled. "You left me for dead...you killed my friends...you...you..."
"That's nice," the assassin murmured, turning her attention back to Myrda. "Now about why I'm here...well, I think you already know..."
There was a brief interlude where Fellman started reaching for his gun, only for the assailant to grab the firearm first, empty its clip and toss it aside. Either the young man was very brave or very stupid. Myrda however, was neither. She did indeed know what the assailant wanted-the bio-sample that she'd been transporting. As said, she wasn't stupid. But not being particularly brave either, she wasn't sure what to do. Hand it over? Run? Neither option seemed particularly appealing, but the assassin had already killed at least three people today. It seemed that fear of damaging the sample was the only reason she hadn't killed them.
"I..." the scientist stammered. "I..."
"Oh for God's sake, the bio-sample," the seemingly old woman snapped. "The case you've got in your hand."
The biohazard box...Myrda had been clutching it tightly, yet had forgotten all about it in the heat of the moment. It was as if she was the centre of the universe, destined to die from heat death.
What would dying be like anyway?
"Put it on the ground," the assassin growled. "And walk away."
"So what?" Fellman snarled. "So you can shoot us? Like you did Eldon and Grunewald?"
"I suppose, though I have no idea who they are."
"They were-..."
"And I don't care, either," the woman continued. "But I'm feeling...jovial, tonight." She let out a grin that made her seem like a shark closing in on a floundering fish. "You have no idea how much this is worth..."
Gonna kill us, gonna kill us... Myrda thought.
"Money..." Fellman snarled. "It's all about-..."
"Oh spare me Fellman, I know how much you're being paid to walk away," the old woman snapped. The security guard opened his mouth but she beat him to it. "Yes, I know about your retirement plan, and the money that goes with it. So yes...I'm just like you. But before you start moralizing, keep in mind that yes, I'm a bad little girl. And yes, I could shoot you. The only reason I haven't is that I don't want Doctor Myrda here to drop the case when her body hits the floor. So leave the case, walk away, and I might just do the same."
Gonna die, gonna die, gonna die...
"So what will it be?" the assassin asked. "The easy way? Or the easier way?"
Gonna die, gonna die, gonna die...
"Well?"
Could live...she wants the case...won't shoot while I have the case...
"The case, Doctor Myrda."
Gonna die...kill us...after case...need case...case save me...
"Doctor, if you don't-..."
"No!"
It was the typical flight or fight reaction, with flight having been chosen and fight having been told to take a hike. Her mind taken over entirely by the need to survive. Nothing else mattered as she ran in the opposite direction, bar that single, overwhelming desire. That, and to keep the case at body height. The woman wanted the case. Myrda needed the case to live. It was as simple as that.
Perhaps that was why when the bullets came, they hit her leg, the case still falling out of her hands, but not being touched by any of the ballistics.
And yet for some reason, no more bullets came.
Not at her at least.
It was the typical fight or flight reaction. And while Myrda had opted for flight, it was clear that Fellman had opted to fight.
Blue supposed she had to give the man credit. He'd at least managed to return fire back in Sydney, and had even survived the experience intact (or as close as possible it was to be so). But credit was a luxury that she couldn't afford. Because while Myrda's flight had been aborted, it had taken up valuable time to ground her. And that was all the time it had taken for the security guard to sprint aside, grab his firearm and as Blue fired at him, dive behind another car, evading the bullets.
It was a motion that the former marine mirrored, taking cover as Fellman let loose a few shots at her.
Idiots... the assassin mused. I'm surrounded by idiots.
Then again, she'd been fairly idiotic herself. Even if Myrda was holding the case, it would have been much easier to shoot Fellman straight away. Not simply take his gun away without even bothering to check whether he had any spare clips.
"So, Gettis..." Blue called out. "We back to playing cops and robbers again are we? Well, just so we're clear, I'm the robber, and you're the underpaid cop who's going to get a cheap funeral and maybe some bagpipes."
The security guard remained silent, causing Blue to fill her mental silence with curses. He was smart, as well as lucky. He probably didn't have that many rounds to spare, and wasn't going to waste them in a standard retort. She on the other hand had enough firepower to let off a spray at Myrda, who was trying to crawl away.
"Stay put bitch, or I'll put you down."
Myrda started crying.
Oh, son of a...
Blue dived aside. Fellman hadn't fired, but she'd seen the laser targeter in the darkness. UniStrand had equipped their lapdog relatively well, and if she was actually as old as she looked, the bullets might have hit. But the assassin was made of sterner stuff. And above all else, she had the experience. Enough to know that while a laser targeter would help a shooter normally, it would also work against him in the right circumstances. That was why she started popping off single shots at the car park's lamps, plunging the area into the darkness of winter night. The laser might help Fellman a bit, but he'd have no idea what it was bouncing off. And when he did use it, Blue would have a clear line of sight as to where he was.
Case in point, as the laser shone through the darkness again. Clear and crisp, Blue simply fired at its general point of origin.
"Always was good as laser tag..." Blue sneered.
Fellman didn't answer. Too bad. It would have been interesting to hear his last words. Because Gettis Fellman was as good as dead, and this little incident had pushed her to decide to execute Myrda as well. It would be a kill that there was little pleasure to be gained from, but Blue's charity had been spat on. And that didn't make her inclined to grant favours.
More red light shone through the gloom, its point of origin suggesting Fellman was trying to flank her. Grinning, Blue fired into the gloom, seeing what looked like a figure slump over the car.
Bingo...
Yet Fellman wasn't giving up. The laser shone from the car's boot, the security guard apparently trying to balance his pistol for his last desperate shots. Her grin now resembling a vampire's instead of a measly shark, Blue opened fire at the area. No way he could dodge those. His body would be-...
Bam!
Blue stumbled backwards. Blood spurted out from her right leg.
Bam!
And she fell down, her left leg suffering from the same fate.
The laser…he's there…he's…
Bam!
The third shot didn't hit her, but she saw where it came from. The laser was rested on the car's boot…yet the muzzle flash was coming from underneath the vehicle. A vehicle that had a shadowy figure vault over it, by it, grabbing the former marine's SMG and tossing it aside.
"H…how?" Blue asked.
Gettis Fellman held his firearm in one hand, still pointing it at her. And in the other, he held the laser targeter, shining independently, right at her.
"There's mud in your eye," he said simply.
Being alive wasn't as joyous as he thought it would be.
Gettis was sick of it all. Sick of guns, and the lead that came out of them (laser targeters being able to function independently notwithstanding). Sick of people like Myrda, putting so much stock in items that they'd risk their own lives for them. Sick of people like the crone in front of him-obviously not a crone at all, given how she could move. And in a way, he was sick of himself, of allowing himself to get into this position. His friends were dead, he was still alive, and he stood in a position where he could snuff out another human life with a simple flick of his trigger finger.
"So..." the assassin murmured. "You finally grew a pair."
A flick that was starting to become somewhat appealing.
"Why did you do this?" the security guard snarled. "What could possibly be in that crate that's worth killing for?"
The assassin chuckled. "Worth killing for? Honestly Fellman, people kill for much less. You think it's strange, what I do? Ask her." She gestured to Myrda, having crawled up onto the box to support her weight (her legs unable to support it) and seemingly, to protect the item as well. "The old bat-..."
"Old? Speak for yourself."
The woman laughed bitterly. "I'm thirty-four darling."
"..."
"I know. Fools everyone."
And Gettis included. What kind of person would do this, he wondered? Technology was sophisticated enough to make old people look young...but to go the other way? Vanity wasn't something he was particularly fond of, but to ruin your physical appearance, just so enemies would underestimate you...and for what? Cash? The thrill of the hunt? Simple gratification from killing?
"You know...I hate to interrupt..." Myrda called out. "But I wouldn't mind if you...you know...helped me..."
"And me," the assassin said. "Prisoner of corporate war and all that."
Gettis kept his eyes on his foe, and not only because she was the one that was still potentially dangerous. "You're awfully upbeat for someone who's headed for hard time."
"Hard time? Hardly. After seeing what I've done today, UniStrand will want my services exclusively." The woman smiled faintly. "Course, you did down me...maybe there'll be something in this for you as well."
Gettis stared at her. It was preposterous...yet somehow, there was a trait of realism in it as well. Somehow, he could see something like this happening.
"Hello?" Myrda called out. "We still have a delivery to make."
And then there was the good doctor. A.k.a. the doctor who seemed more concerned with making a delivery to UniStrand than blood loss.
"Of course..." the assassin continued. "Maybe you could spare me. Maybe we could team up."
"What?" Gettis asked. "Are you serious?"
"Of course. You're good with a gun. We head off, sell the dough, and maybe I'll even let my face down." She winked suggestively at him. "And my pants."
Gettis fired his pistol, the round hitting the pavement right between the woman. She didn't flinch, but did shift her eyes to the shell casing that he kicked over towards her.
"Shove that up your arse if you want," the security guard snarled. "It's all you're getting."
The woman didn't answer. Maybe she didn't have a comeback. Or maybe, at the end of the day, everything that had to be said had been done so.
Everything had been said. Yet not everything had been done.
"Doctor Myrda..." Gettis said eventually. "You said that crate contained material from ITO, right?"
"Yes," the doctor said, still leaning on the crate. "What about it? It's ours now, so-..."
"Was, ours."
"What?" Myrda asked. "What are you on about?"
Gettis sighed. "You asked me in the city, when ITO was mentioned...whether everything was alright. Whether I had a problem with transporting contraband material."
"Fellman, you can't seriously-..."
"And I said nothing was wrong," the security guard continued, sparing Myrda a glance before shifting it back to the assassin. "But that was a lie. This is wrong. Everything's wrong."
"What? Oh for goodness sake!" Myrda snapped. "We've been through this. It's a dog eat dog world, Fellman."
"And the cats? The mice? The rabbits?" he snapped back. "It's a world of predators indeed. If we're not killing each other in the interests of natural selection, we're killing each other for new reasons. Did you ever stop to ask what ITO was going to do with those things? How many people this genetic research could save? No. All you cared about was that UniStrand was the one who'd be reaping the rewards."
"And...and you can reap them too..." Myrda protested. "Just...think about it."
"I have," Gettis said. "And I've reached my decision."
Keeping his pistol in one hand, he pulled out his sPhone in the other. It was a simple call to make-just three zeros.
"It's a dog eat dog world, but we've let the dogs of war run around too long," Gettis said. "Now it's time to reign them in."