Violence is random. No one can prepare for the unpredicted. All the training in the world doesn't matter. Only luck saves you from death.
-Sasha Bordeaux
Jaime doubled, hands on his knees, trying to regain his strength. The blast had taken a lot out of him. He rubbed at his arm. Bleeding. Not bad, but Peacemaker had shot him. And hurt him. Power levels too low to maintain combat systems and heal such a minor wound.
Under the bridge, dust hung like a fog. The smell of burnt rubber and gas fumes swirled in the haze. A pile of cars. Jaime's heart went cold.
"Dios mio. What ... what did I do?" He shook his head. Remember the priority.
What priority? What did that even mean?
Priority: task of greatest importance. Priority: kill Checkmate.
Kill?
Eliminate threat.
Threat?
The hazard to his safety. Eliminate Checkmate before they had time to recover.
The pileup looked like a bunch of toy cars that a toddler had thrown in a tantrum. Windshields were cracked, some shattered, their glass scattered like ice over the ground.
Checkmate couldn't still be alive. Who could survive that?
Within the wreckage, people started to move. Calling for help. Jaime hugged his middle. Those people ... His hands clenched into fists. Who had helped him? Who had come and saved him when he had been screaming, helpless.
But he had hurt them. He meant to stop Peacemaker but instead he'd ... how could he do that?
No! It was Checkmate. They caused this outcome when they pursued him. End them. Eliminate the threat. Then he could go home. Then he could see his family. Then he could fulfill the directive.
But ...
Like a wave, the past crashed over him and engulfed his senses.
Running. Lost. Terror like dark sludge blocking his throat. I can help you. Betrayed. Carfentanil. Don't fight it. Ripped from peace. Thrown to pain. Hurt like a fire, muscles screaming. Never-ending cutting and shredding. Prevent access to core. Five days. No food. Power low. Healing and wounding.
Jaime fell to his knees. "No. Stop. Stop it!"
The cold glitter of machines. His body thrashing, cringing. His voice echoing back unheard.
"Please, stop."
Jaime's chest heaved. The memories faded. They had been so strong. Like he had been there. Was experiencing it all over again. The ghost of it thrummed in his bones so strongly he trembled. It was too much. Too much to feel. He fell on his face, body clenched.
All he felt was pain. All of it. So he closed it off. He shut it out. Like doors closing in his heart, he took all his feelings and locked it away.
See what they did? They did all this. Caused all this pain. Tried to eliminate you. Mother crying. Father near death. Sister alone. The fear, the terror of your family. Checkmate to blame. Then a missile above your home. Your sister. Tried to kill you. To hurt her.
Jaime opened his eyes. The ground looked yellow through the filter. "They deserve to die," he spoke to the dust.
Affirmative.
A warm ache. Stillness. Slogging through thoughts, trying to reach awareness. Low-pitched ringing. Someone crying. Someone shouting. Something was wrong. Couldn't breathe. Trying to breathe and couldn't.
Sharp pain. This one in the ribs.
Breathe, damn it.
The struggle, real now and desperate; like a person under water, kicking towards the surface.
Peacemaker opened his eyes. Light struck his cornea. Tears formed, blotted out his vision. He blinked them away. Above him, the bright near-whiteness of the sky was dimming to blue. Dusk was coming. The earth breathed out a final sigh of heat, radiating back the kiss of the sun. Peacemaker breathed with it. His lungs contracted in short bursts. The wind had been knocked out of him, but slowly he gathered it back.
Not dead. Not yet. Now get up.
He knew he was in shock. That if anything were broken he wouldn't feel it. Wouldn't feel if he were wounded, or missing a limb. Real pain wouldn't start yet. But he had to move.
He lay in a patch of dwindling sunlight. There was a road under the bridge. Only two lanes and a turning lane. Cars were all around him. Some of them had all tires pointed in the air. Others traveling under the superhighway stopped at the sight of the wreck, people leaping out of cars, hands on their heads, some calling 911. Survivors were crawling from the wreck. Blood and tears mixed. Peacemaker didn't stop scanning the scene until he found the Hummer. It wasn't far from where he'd been thrown. There were bodies in the vehicle. Bodies that were not moving.
His men.
His limbs obeyed him now. He stood. Someone beat him to the Hummer. The figure reached for the bodies, for his men.
Peacemaker ran toward the figure. "Back off!"
The person turned. A teenager with black hair. It was him. The kid. He didn't look like his photo.
"There's too women trapped in there," the kid said. Peacemaker blinked. It wasn't Jaime, only some teenager. "I need help." Peacemaker moved to assist.
The Hummer was on it's roof, another car crushing it. Empty shells and debris scattered around his feet. The windshield was gone. Crushed like a can. The side windows had been compacted into narrow slits.
"Hey," the teen called. "Can you hear me? Mam? Ya'll are gonna be okay. We'll get you out of there."
Peacemaker tried the door. Didn't budge. "Bordeaux? Rockwell?"
A shuffling from within. "Here, sir," the pawn called through a cough. "Door's jammed. Bordeaux's not conscious. She's breathing. I think I see blood."
"Try climbing out the back," he ordered and circled there himself. Feeling started to prick its way into his body. A burning on one side. Broken ribs maybe.
"Caramba," the teen said. He stared at the ammo and guns. Peacemaker shoved past the kid and bent to the trunk. Smoke. Dimness. A dark figure moving. He fought the urge to crawl in and help. The best thing he could do for them right now was protect them.
Time felt like it was dragging. It had been about ten seconds. Too much time. Peacemaker found a duffel bag, pulled it, jerked the zipper open. A M16 rifle, rope, some other supplies he didn't have time to examine. This was it. All or nothing. He strapped a gun over his shoulder, stuffed the clips into pockets, eyes turning towards the sky.
Where was he?
"You're going to be okay," the teen called in. "Can you move? Try and reach my hand."
Where was he? Where was the Texan? Peacemaker switched off the safety. He was out there. Hunting. Closing in. Had to keep them safe. All of them safe. Best way to do that was draw the Texan away.
"I need your help," the teen said. "Help me!"
Peacemaker slung the duffel bag over a shoulder and backed away, still scanning the air. "A guy in a black suit and mask comes this way, run." Then he took off at a low jog.
Jaime's body moved, rose. Blood dripped from his left arm but he didn't feel the wound anymore. He didn't feel ... anything. "They deserve it," he repeated.
Affirmative. Eliminate threat.
It was best to survey the area from the air. But power levels needed to be conserved for weapons systems. There were multiple noncombatants in the area. Jaime had to locate the targets before they could flee the scene, before reinforcements could arrive.
Scanners locked onto objects, flashing across Jaime's vision at intervals. Dust drifted to the ground, coating everything in a tan frost. As the air cleared, shapes sharpened, punching the dreamy haze with harsh reality.
Jaime's eyes drifted over the metal carnage. A hollowness in his chest sucked all of his feeling in. All the fear, pain, panic that clamored around him, it faded into a small dark space within.
He located the Hummer. It had rolled onto its roof, pinned beneath another car. Jaime expected anger, a spike of adrenaline ... something.
But there was nothing. So much nothing his chest felt like it was caving in.
The dual receptors on his back protruded and a filter covered the visible light spectrum. The flush of body heat blossomed through the vehicle's steel body. Scans revealed three targets within the Hummer. The targets.
Locking on. High intensity ion blast would incinerate target.
No strength or will to argue. Jaime's arm rose.
The ground shred at his feet.
Gunfire. Seek cover!
Jaime wheeled behind a chunk of fallen concrete. He lay on his side, panting. "What was that!"
Trajectory places source at approximately 143 degrees Southeast.
"What?"
Pale blue line sliced across his vision, indicating the direction of the shooter. He crept up on his elbow to peep over the edge of the fallen bridge -
Terminate action!
Bullets pounded the concrete and sang past his ears. Jaime yelped and dropped.
Jaime could achieve visual without exposure to enemy fire.
"That was another case of 'would have been good to know beforehand'," he muttered.
Radar overtook his vision and a wave of dizziness rolled through his skull. If he hadn't already been flat on the ground he would have tipped over.
The area around him flared like a stain as the receptors mapped it out. Several meters away was the source of the gunfire. The primary target.
Jaime's arm cannon whined, charged and ready.
Alerting Jaime to the possible dangers as requested: 42 percent chance of injury. 20 percent chance of missing target while evading fire. Recommendation: Advance.
"Advanced what?"
Advance position. Move forward. Press the defensive line ...
Jaime scanned the terrain — an interesting sensation since he wasn't looking at it — and plotted a path to rush the target. He rolled to his stomach, gathered his feet underneath him. He imagined Peacemaker's body. Still. Lifeless. Like the soldiers at the base. Like the soldier Killer Frost had murdered.
This wasn't murder.
"He deserves to die."
Jaime bolted from his cover. The target tried laying down suppressive fire. Jaime fired back. Short non-lethal blasts. More for show, to put pressure on the target. It worked. As he reached cover, the target was retreating.
Target knew he was inferior to Jaime's advanced weapons. Pursue. End the conflict.
Jaime crept into the sun, leaving the bridge behind. A flash of black uniform. The target vaulted a stone wall and ducked into ... Jaime knew that place. The Fort Bliss National Cemetery.
Jaime came here every memorial day with his parents and Milagro. They helped put flags on the graves. Papi sometimes went off alone, pacing the rows. He once showed Jaime the headstone of a soldier he knew. Did that soldier deserve to die too?
Focus on priority. Pursue target.
Jaime jogged towards the cemetery wall. He boosted over and landed on the gravelly earth. There was no grass here. The fine rock and dirt ground was combed even. He scanned.
No visual. Sun's heat was equalizing the terrain. It was all one hot mass.
His vision stabilized in the visible light spectrum. The stark white headstones were knee high, precisely lined. All were identical with the exception of a wreath of plastic flowers here or there. The target had little place to hide. A few trees in the distance, a flowered bush or two. No sign of him.
Jaime's breath sounded like a tornado in the silence. His footsteps crunching thunderously.
Which way? Footsteps! No, just his imagination. The ground, just there. The gravel was uneven. Someone was here. They went that way.
Jaime peered down the row.
There. The target. They hid behind a gravemarker. The stone would not protect the target. It would only take one shot. Then Jaime could go back and finish off the others.
Jaime raised his arm, weapon already formed.
The target rolled to the side, facing Jaime in a crouch. A pop. A bright white object hurled at Jaime and struck him in the chest so hard he fell back. He hollered. Hot hot hot! Jaime batted the searing object away.
Peacemaker had shot a flare at him. The magnesium did not penetrate, but the integrity of Jaime's chest armor was compromised. Rise. Eliminate target. Jaime stiffly clamored to his feet, rubbing the sore spot. The target swung something around his head like a lasso, then released it, sending it flying at Jaime.
What ...
The belt flopped to the ground at Jaime's feet. Peacemaker dropped. Jaime's eyes went wide. His body began the movements, tensing, feet pushing against the ground, lips forming a perfect O. Not enough time. The suit was calculating chance of fatality. The belt had too many on it for him to count. He couldn't waste time counting. All he could do was think there wasn't enough time. And know that the pins, the pins from the grenades that were too many to count, the pins had all been pulled.
The explosions shook in his chest. Peacemaker leapt to his feet while debris scattered. He was already moving at a low crouch, rifle tucked against a shoulder, scanning for movement through the choking haze. He circled in to maneuver.
He hadn't been counting. If he had to guess, had less than half a mag left. He flicked the setting on his rifle to semi or single fire.
A cloud of dust and smoke obscured visual. But the map in his mind led him true. There. He lined up his sights. The Texan lay still. A dropping sensation jilted his stomach, like missing a step.
Dead kid.
His grip tightened. Make sure the threat is neutralized. He stepped closer. Setting rays of the sun sliced through the dust and smoke. The shape hardened. Not a body. Blackened headstones. The Texan was still alive.
Peacemaker swore and pivoted.
Jaime collided with Peacemaker before he could get the shot off. The two tumbled across the ground. The gravelly earth was unforgiving to his already battered body. He landed on his back. The Texan was a dark silhouette against the sky.
If Jaime were a half decent fighter, Peacemaker would have been dead. Should have been dead. No killing strike. And the kid left himself wide open.
A twist and Peacemaker threw him off. Peacemaker rolled to his feet just as Jaime pounced again. An obsidian like blade, fine and deadly, swiped at Peacemaker's chest. He dodged.
Just barely. Kid was quick and Peacemaker's injured ribs weren't helping his mobility. Another slash. Another. Another. Peacemaker stumbled away. A blade grazed his front, slicing clean through his kevlar vest. Didn't reach his chest but it did cut his gun strap. The weapon fell. No time to grab it.
"You liar!" the boy was shouting. "You lied to me. You said you would help me! You LIED!"
Distract him. Control the fight. Dictate each move.
"Turn around," Peacemaker yelled back. "Look at what you did. You hurt those people."
"No."
Peacemaker grabbed the next swing. This one was slower, weaker. He opened Jaime's guard and kicked his legs out from under him. The boy fell and Peacemaker dealt a kick to the head. Jaime rolled across the ground.
"You probably killed someone," Peacemaker went on. He marched over before the kid could rise, grabbed him in a headlock, forced his face to the cemetery wall, to the wreckage beyond. "Look at those people."
The fight seemed to drain from Jaime. The weapon shriveled into a hand and the kid pawed at Peacemaker's arms. "No! Shut up shut up shut up!"
"You blew up a bridge."
"I just wanted ... You wouldn't leave me alone."
"Look at what you did."
"You deserved it. You deserve to-"
"Did those innocent people deserve it?" he bellowed back.
The boy's head lurched side to side. "It was you. You chased me. You hurt me ... You ... Shut up!" With a strength that belied his size, Jaime stood, pivoted, threw Peacemaker over his back to the ground. The tremor in his voice was gone. "You tortured me. For five days straight. Locked me up. Put me through hell. Starved me. But that wasn't enough. You had to come after my family."
Peacemaker slowly gathered his feet under him, staying low. "You're dangerous."
The boy's fists clenched. "I'll kill you, you cabrón mentiroso!" Jaime ran to tackle him. Peacemaker rotated and shoved so the boy's momentum sent him flying past, but Jaime spun around, lunging again. The two grappled. Jaime's hands caught Peacemaker by the throat.
"Kill you for what you did to me! Five days. Cinco manches dias."
Peacemaker broke Jaime's grip and gave him an uppercut to the chin. But the maneuver barely phased him. Jaime's arm morphed into a sonic cannon. Peacemaker dove to the side as the blast hit. The force sent a shockwave, knocking Peacemaker to the ground, heat heavy on his neck.
He struggled to his feet, brain still rattling from the concussion. That was no sonic blast. He leapt behind a headstone as Jaime fired again. Ground blackened. That was some sort of high tech weapon that put plasma guns to shame. Peacemaker's gaze focused on the M16 he'd dropped. It was about ten meters away. It might have been back in HQ for all the good it did him. The headstone blew apart. Peacemaker frog hopped to another. He grit his teeth. His cover wouldn't last forever. Too much luck. One false move and it would be over.
From the way the kid was letting loose, he was either going to be out of bullets soon or he didn't need to worry about it. Peacemaker had a feeling it was the latter, in which case he couldn't just wait it out. Needed to close the distance. Force Jaime to fight close range. Play to Jaime's weakness: hand to hand combat.
Peacemaker tensed for the next blast, ready to move. The sound of crunching gravel alerted him. Peacemaker whipped around ...
SLAM!
Jaime plowed into him, driving him into the ground. Jaime's hand clamped over Peacemakers and twisted. Peacemaker felt something give and he yelled. He headbutt his assailant and shrimped out of Jaime's grip. He heaved a leg up and around the boy's waist and fell, forcing the kid off balance and letting gravity flip Peacemaker on top.
Peacemaker struck the throat, the eyes, every vulnerable point he'd ever heard of. The boy cried out and threw him off. It wasn't enough. Had to penetrate the armor. His gaze focused on the rifle. Peacemaker ran for it while the kid was recovering.
A tackle at the knees sent him skidding through gravel. A punch connected with his injured side. His body cringed, but he forced himself to move through the pain. In a fluid motion, Peacemaker rolled onto his back, kicked a leg over Jaime's shoulder, and locked it behind his knee in a triangle choke. Just as he expected with an inexperienced fighter, Jaime panicked, struggling wildly to get away. Peacemaker pulled on Jaime's head. In less than a minute the choke would disable him.
A sudden pressure heated Peacemaker's midriff. Blood poured over an obsidian blade.
His blood.
Not good. All sorts of vital stuff down there.
Peacemaker heaved Jaime off of him. The boy fell back, coughing and Peacemaker crawled towards the gun. He reached for the broken strap ...
A hand snagged his ankle, yanked him back.
"You put me through hell," the boy seethed. "Why? What did I do to you? Why are you doing this?" Jaime's blade morphed back into a hand. He grabbed Peacemaker by the shirt, other fist hitting his face. His nose crunched under the blow. "You lied. You told me you would help and you tried to kill me! Tried to hurt my family!"
Peacemaker struggled to breathe. Broken nose. He tried to fight back. Sprained arm. Jaime slammed him into the ground.
"Why? Why is this happening!" The boy's fist became a blade. His eyes were wild, his voice high and vicious.
Peacemaker lay helpless. All around him the white gravestones seemed to glow, protruding teeth-like from the ground, ready to grind him to dust, add him to their ranks. This was how he went? Decapitated by some punk teenager? In a graveyard?
No.
Do something. Don't just die.
He stared up at the Texan. Sometimes you just died.
"Your fault. All your fault. You deserve this."
The blade descended. Peacemaker didn't close his eyes.
A high pitched singing. The flick of impact. Jaime screamed and reeled away.
The boy collapsed. Peacemaker forced himself to his hands and knees. He scrambled for the weapon, gripped it one handed, and fell on his butt as he turned. The boy hadn't recovered. Peacemaker hugged his stomach, blood dripping from the wound. Jaime was on his side, clutching his thigh. The bullet had went through and through. Large caliber from the looks of it. Scarlet spilled over the boy's hands.
"So you can bleed," Peacemaker said and pulled the trigger. Before the rounds hit, thrusters whined, propelling the boy clear. He tumbled to the ground a few feet away.
"Madre. Madre. Madre de Dios! Ay Dios." He rose shaking to his knees. "Shut up shut up! I'm trying," Jaime sobbed. "It hurts. Madre. Madre de Dios it hurts!"
In Peacemaker's peripheral, Bordeaux steadied herself for another shot. Jaime launched into the sky, hurling dust in their faces. Peacemaker dropped the gun and collapsed. In the distance, he heard the punt of a body breaking the sound barrier.
Bordeaux and the pawn were to him in seconds.
So much blood.
"Took you long enough," Peacemaker said.
Bordeaux lifted his hand briefly. "Looks bad."
"Ya think?" The two lifted him. "If you drop me ..."
"Don't talk."
"Where is he?"
"Gone. Don't worry about it. Gotta get you patched up."
"He was talking to someone. Did you hear him? Someone was giving him orders." His head felt heavy. His hands, weak. Then a surge of nauseousness. The urge to throw up. Suddenly cold.
"Peacemaker? Stay awake. You hear me?"
He tried. He really did. But slowly, gratingly, consciousness was ripped from him.
Loose Spanish translation as taken in context:
ay Dios - oh God
caramba - dang
cinco manches dias - five freaking days
madre de Dios - mother of God
mentiroso - liar
(various other expletives left to the imagination)