CHAPTER 34: TRIBE (PART 3)

A thunderous noise boomed in the mountain tops, yet Coyolxauhqui felt consumed by its energy as if she stood in the explosion's midst. Her limbs tingled from a heat she longer stood beside, and she gasped for air so strongly that Izel and Huitzilopochtli steadied her.

"Coyo?" Izel asked.

"L—Leo." The Chieftain wheezed then dry heaved. "Za—ddir."

"What about them?" Huitzi added.

Coyo hung her head. How could she put the feeling into words? The two were hurt yet also relieved. Over what?

"Teicu, what happened?" Huitzi continued, sterner.

The young woman pulled away from her family's hold. She stumbled onto her knees, weak from her seared feet, and inhaled a deep, smoky breath that made her cough.

"Coyo!"

Coyo twisted on the ground to face her best friend. "Stay," she said.

"I am no pet!" Izel countered.

"Coyo is chief. You stay."

"Why? Where will you go? What will you do? You cannot walk."

"I can try."

"You will cripple yourself!"

"So Yo and Coyo will be twins." Coyo's gaze lingered on the sleeping cochotl her brother held, particularly on his mangled talon.

"Haughtiness begets stupidity," Huitzi said.

"Coyo must see, Teachcauh," Coyo insisted. "Must go to him." Izel understood who she meant, as did Huitzi; they both remained silent when the young woman addressed the Pesto Chieftain amongst the K'ekchi survivors. "Thank you, Xiptl. You came, even though you said Xolotl hunts us."

The aged man dipped his chin in respect. "Your letters," he started, "we burned them, but their words lingered in my memory. There are few tribes left in the Amazon, and when we saw the flames..."

"You decided to help at a cost," Izel spat.

Xiptl brought his dark gaze to the skinhead, listless. "In ancient times, the Pesto would never have aided you or scalped those unwilling to heed our trade. You seem part-way there already."

Coyo sighed while Izel rubbed her skull with a sour look. "Chief Xiptl."

"Yes?"

"Please, keep my people safe."

"Most foreigners have been pushed back or killed. Those left are the three superiors engaged by that fair-haired woman and ayotl."

Coyo quirked half her lips at Xiplt's furrowed expression. "Trust them. They are allies."

"Ometecuhtli and Omecihuatl's world is filled with wonders."

"Ometeotl's world, actually," interjected Izel.

"Debate religion later," Huitzi told her.

"Izel," Coyo said in a gentle voice. Her best friend huffed, and the Chieftain's smile grew when she looked over her dirty, wounded tribe. "Follow Xiplt," she added. "He protects you now."

"Chief!" several people cried out.

Coyo silenced them with a wave. She struggled to stand on her throbbing feet, only to be caught by Izel when they gave way.

"I am coming," the younger woman said.

"Iz—"

"You are my sister as much as you are my chief. Huitzi will help Yo. I will help you."

Izel left no room for compromise in her stare, so Coyo accepted her offer of support. They left behind a final smile before heading down the burning streets, where Leonardo's family fought the Yaoqui on the village's other side.

"Will you tell me why you wish to rush over there?" Izel questioned.

"Leo's tribe fights for us," answered Coyo. "I cannot wait on the side."

"You also cannot fight. At this point, you are as useless as me."

"Yet here we are."

The skinhead snorted. "Teueltiuh, always getting me in trouble."

"Not how I remember our childhood."

"We were both guilty." Chuckling, Izel guided Coyo around a raging brush pile and cringed from its heat. "What if they lose?"

"They will not. Circumstances have changed; Coyo senses it through Mozallo."

"Are Leo and the Teo well?"

"Yes? Somewhat. Their emotions are jumbled; however, they make me believe something big is coming."

"And you want to see what that is. Typical."

"Leonardo is involved. That much Coyo knows."

"Which is why you want to be there, whatever may come."

"Yes." The chieftain gimped forward on inflamed feet, drenched in sweat from both pain and anxiety. "Coyo brought Leo into our war. She will stand by him until its end."

Obadiah found the enemy's resistance laughable. They hardly stood their ground against Agents Vance and Barrett, despite their SHELL advantage. And that was before the senior agent joined the fray.

"Rizzo taught you poorly, chiquitita," Obadiah told the blonde. He squeezed the material that protected her hands, although the cybernetic enhancements woven below the plating prevented him from crushing any bones.

"Please." The blonde smirked, arms straining as Obadiah's might slid her feet backward through ash and dirt. "I'm the one who taught Marco."

"No wonder he was caught." Moretti's smirk fell with a roar—a rookie mistake. Rage made her forfeit the grappling match, and the Hispanic dodged her uppercut, chuckling. "Temper, temper," he teased.

The blonde growled again, but before she could prepare a second punch, Obadiah kneed her stomach then hammered his interlocked fists against the back of her head. She met the earth face-first, and the agent gave her no time to recover when he Ax Stomped between her shoulder blades.

"Bet Rizzo failed to grab a handbook for that thing while he was out on his crusade."

Moretti grumbled something in Italian, likely a curse that brought a smile to Obadiah's aching face.

He kneeled while she reoriented herself through shallow pants then flipped open a compartment where the SHELL's belt unfolded into spinal protection from the small of her back. "I had close friends who tested these beauties, Black Ops who gave me a run for my money during training. Shame their funding ran out. Then again, nothing beats old-fashioned strength. Wouldn't ya say?"

"You—" Moretti tensed when Obadiah initiated the SHELL's emergency protocols. They beeped their compliance, and the bio-suit locked its joints, so the hot-headed blonde remained prisoner inside it. "What did you do, Stronzo?" she demanded.

The Hispanic clicked his tongue. "Now, who would make suits like this without proper measures to prevent highjackings? Should've read the fine print."

"Screw you!"

"Nah. Ya ain't my type. Barrett? Vance?" Obadiah looked up from where he crouched, and his lips twitched upward. The mutants laid sprawled against the street, the youngest below Vance's foot and the other two breathless under Barrett's hands. "Nice! Either of you good at gift wrapping? I'd love to put a bow on this delivery." Neither woman cracked a smile, but the senior agent tossed his head back in amusement all the same. "Only one thing can make this day better."

And speaking of the devil, was that Hyde? The younger Hispanic strolled through the smoke, cinders, and ash raining across the burning village, and Obadiah rose once he reached speaking distance.

"There you are!" the older man yelled. "Thought you were ignoring my calls, Mano! I was lonely!" He chuckled with less mirth than before; part of him had worried the psychic slipped from his control when the younger agent ceased updates and delayed his response. "Are the others taken care of? The Jinchos ready for transport?"

"Where's my bro, asshole?" the red-masked mutant snarled. His reached towards Hyde and Barrett winded him with a strike to his upper chest.

"Probably in a cage, eh, Mano?" Obadiah faced Hyde, who starred with unblinking eyes as ash dusted him. "Kay. New order: crush these idiots. Our docs will have an easier time garnering samples with their bones broken."

A moment passed, so still that Obadiah heard crackles from the waning fires.

"Hyde? Hyde!" The older Hispanic lifted the CMP controller, wounded cheek stinging when his frown spread the wound. "I said crush them!"

The controller beeped, confirmation that it sent signals to Hyde's nervous system. The agent remained unflinching, and Obadiah's stomach turned.

"Something wrong, Mano?" Hyde asked lowly.

Impossible! Bishop's protocols were flawless; there was no way Xander could make the Mentis Program malfunction—psychic or not. So how could he speak?

"Here I thought there'd never be a day where you shut up, Rook."

Obadiah fought the urge to lick his lips. He despised weakness and beat the CMP remote with his thumb as his expression hardened.

"It's useless," Hyde added. He took steps towards the crowd. "Satellite's fried. Someone helped me see to that."

"Come any closer, I won't need a satellite," Obadiah said.

"Unlike you, my power isn't limited to how far a signal can relay."

Hot pain broke Obadiah's skin, and his heart skipped a beat at the sound of cracking plastic. For a moment, he thought he had shattered the CMP remote. A closer look, though, revealed that the jagged pieces floated around the man's red-stained fist.

"What have you done?" Obadiah asked. He lowered his arms to hide their shakes, although the slight tremors in their muscles roused additional sweat across his brow.

"I made a choice. Like you can. Right now." The younger Hispanic stopped a few yards shy of Barrett and Vance, and their captives squirmed.

"Where's Leo?" the red-masked one repeated. His arm was now pinned behind his shell, disrupting dirt when he snorted against the street.

"Safe," Hyde answered. "I protected them when the Disrupter exploded. Again."

Obadiah's eyes widened. "You did what?"

"Saved them. Or rather, they saved me."

"Maricón! Do you have no loyalty?"

"If you thought I did you never would've subjected me to the CMP program. Especially without my consent."

"You think we'd let a psychic time-bomb roam around without proper monitoring?" Agent Vance interjected.

Hyde met her steely stare. "I take it you had a hand in the implants?"

"I'm the one who drugged you."

"And I can let that slide."

"Just like that?"

"I don't want to hurt you. Just back down and leave."

"You mean become a coward!" Vance almost lost her prisoner when she leaned towards Hyde, but then she directed her anger towards her boot, driving it into the mutant's skull. "You're bad luck, Xander. Ask your parents. Your girl. Quincy."

Hyde twitched.

"Your power's a liability," Vance continued. "It killed good soldiers and stole my chance to avenge my parents. Like hell I'm going to let these people be!"

The psychic kept quiet, impassive. He brought his attention to the captives before facing his superior again. When their eyes locked, Obadiah realized without a doubt that Hyde prepared himself for the worst-case scenario, and the older Hispanic bite back bile as he squared his shoulders.

"Hyde," he addressed, "you can turn back."

"I've made up my mind. Have you?"

"You can't trust Jinchos, Mano," Obadiah insisted. His voice raised, partly to hide its urgency. "They're aliens. You?"

"Aren't considered human anymore. You tagged me, labeled me inhuman. The only one whose acknowledged that without issue is Zaddir."

"Zaddir?"

"The Jincho who opened my eyes. She unlocked part of me and"—Hyde half-smiled—"it's freeing."

Obadiah clenched his jaw to keep it from chattering. How could things turn to shit so quickly? He had the perfect setup. Now he struggled against self-preservation and the insistent belief that he could talk down the younger Hispanic. Sure, he knew several tactics to gain an edge, but without another Cybernetic Mentis device, Obadiah was vulnerable.

'He ain't a murderer,' the older agent thought, widening his stance. 'He won't do it. I just have to hold my ground.'

"What will it be?" Hyde cried out.

"Rot in hell, you freak!" Vance countered.

Hyde glowered as if on cue with a snap that came from Vance's spine when it folded in half. An invisible force torpedoed her into a fiery hut, burying her under embers, straw roofing, and siding. Obadiah knew her death had been instantaneous and backpedaled while the same force sent Barrett sailing across the village into the forest. She sunk into the treetops, much like how Obadiah's stomach dropped as the mutants stood up.

"Get away from my girlfriend, Scarface," the youngest Hamato spat. He smiled, although his bright eyes practically glowed with indignation.

"Leo!" a woman called out. The savage's leader hobbled across the street, her feet red and swollen. Her skinhead friend kept her upright, and the others faced where she smiled. "Leo okay!"

Great; as if the company wasn't bad enough. Obadiah scrunched his nose when the fourth mutant and shaggy-haired savage join the crowd. The older Hispanic left the blonde so her 'boyfriend' could tend her, but no sooner did they reunite did he become paralyzed by Hyde's power.

"Leo!" Ugh, the pitiful savage fell into the mutant's arms, and Obadiah had no choice except watch. "No hurt?"

The monster ran a hand down her cheek—a chilling sight. "Thanks to Xander," he said. He turned towards the psychic, whose attention never strayed from his trapped superior.

"Leave," Hyde told him.

"Excuse me?"

"Tend to the wounded. I'll take care of the rest."

"Xander..."

The younger Hispanic steeled; Obadiah felt it in the force that pushed against his bones. "This is my business. Understand?"

No! Obadiah almost begged the others not to leave. They were Hyde's buffer, the reason he kept himself in check. Without them, his blatant intents would run rampant, and their inevitability dripped cold sweat down the older agent's body.

"Xander." Leonardo paused while the remaining crowd traveled through faint cinders. "Don't do anything you'll regret."

"Oh, I won't regret it," Hyde countered.

The mutant looked dissatisfied with the answer, yet followed the savage leader when she tugged at his arm. They disappeared into the smoky distance, leaving behind an atmosphere thicker than the heat, humidity, and fires combined.

"Feel the pressure, Señor?" Hyde asked. His hand lifted, and with it came Obadiah. Sweat beads flowed into the older man's eyes when his boots left the ground, and ash clung to him as his body bent against his will. "Constricting, isn't it? This is what it feels like to struggle. To grasp for control. To fear."

The younger Hispanic's fingers flexed inward, and Rook's vision doubled as he fought to keep straight. Sharp cracks lit his nerves. His bones fractured, piercing his skin with a fury he never thought possible. Worse yet, he had little air to scream or no voice to plead with.

"I'm sick of the EPF's bullshit," Hyde added. "I'm sick of your exploits, your brutality. And I'm sure as hell am sick of people messing with my damn head!"

'Wait,' Obadiah thought. A telekinetic and telepath were similar enough, weren't they? Hyde could read his mind. 'Maybe we can work out a deal, eh, Mano? My life for your freedom. Bishop never has to know. Sound good?' The older Hispanic gapped, nose stinging from urine and the blood that coated his clammy, ripped skin. But his attempt to smile only made Hyde sour.

"This is my life!" the psychic screamed. "I accepted Zaddir's offer. She'll save Liz. And you? You can rot in hell!"

Obadiah drew in a curt breath before Hyde's hand clenched shut. White blotted out his vision as his ringing ears grew silent. The new handicaps brought attention to how his bones broke again and again—until he could no longer feel and oxygen became pointless.