The Assassin, The Mystic, and God's Gun

AN: I haven’t gotten a single review for the first chapter, but I’m probably just being impatient. If anyone reads this, I hope they enjoy it.

The Assassin, The Mystic, and God’s Gun

By Viciousbastard
Chapter The Second

“I’m interested in recycled produce.” Sam said to the young looking, only slightly sculpted manager.

She eyed him critically and said; “I’m sure you are. Let’s see your card.”

He handed it to her trying not to hurry, but he was going to need to move faster. She passed it over the scanner at her hip and looked at the readout.

Her attitude changed suddenly. “Of course sir. Right this way.” She said and started strolling to the back of the store.

“Could we speed this up a little?” He asked with an edge to his voice. He was delighted to see her pick up her pace.

He followed her to a meat locker and watched her slide a secret door open. He hoped the place had ordinary stuff mixed in with the extraordinarily illegal ones. He followed her into the tight room and looked around at the shelves loaded with handguns and sub guns.

He grabbed a ten millimeter caseless pistol, checked its functions, and quickly loaded two magazines for it. He stuffed it into his jacket pocket, with the magazine in the pocket opposite the pistol.

He looked around and found a cheap attempt at a combat knife. He checked the edge and found it to be passable. He sheathed it and tucked it into the back of his waste band. The remote feed for the girl’s room came on in his mind. She was sitting up, reading a book, alone.

He looked at the woman in the doorway and said; “Bill me already. Ten mil, caseless, twenty six rounds, two mags, and a cheap knife.”

She showed him the read out on the credit machine on the wall. He nodded irritably and said; “Hurry it up.”

She ran the card and handed it to him. He pushed his way out, passed her and ignored her grumbled aspersions.

He hurried out of the store into the arterial corridor and half ran towards the hospital. He wandered into the hospital and reached out with his biocomp and invaded the hospital mainframe. He found the floor plans and followed them, quickly. An orderly moved to grab him by the shoulder, since he obviously wasn’t a doctor, and wasn’t wearing a visitor pass. He caught the incoming hand, twisted it, and rammed the entrapped man headfirst into the wall.

He kept walking as if nothing had happened. If the orderly didn’t have a bad concussion it was a miracle, and Sam didn’t believe in miracles. Suddenly the feed in his mind went blank. He hurried his steps and found the room. He could feel the sound absorption field before he was in it. It took practice, and coordination to walk with anything that resembled grace in the absolute silence of a sound absorption field.

He turned a corner and pushed open the door he was searching for. He found the hit man standing on his side of an overturned hospital bed. He was holding a knife as he stalked around it toward the girl.

Sam found himself unimpressed by the wannabe’s technique. The girl for her part looked like she was going to start crying but stared at the thug with defiant hate-filled eyes. Sam pulled out the pistol and racked the slide to the rear.

The killer didn’t hear a sound, and had essentially shot himself in the foot with the sound dampening field. Sam cracked off three soundless, high recoil shots.

All three shots hit the back of the thug's head, and passed through it. Gore sprayed on the opposite wall and the girl looked up in abject horror, with a soundless scream.

Sam slid the pistol back into his pocket and walked over to the body. She looked up, frightened at first, but suddenly recognition dawned on her face.

Sam found the sound absorber, a small black box on the belt of the dead man. He switched it off with a flick of his index finger. The feed came back on in his mind and he could see it. He closed the feed mentally and looked at the girl, who was getting to her feet shakily. She was in her mid twenties, but looked older. She had rounded curves, and wasn’t thin enough to be considered pretty by fashions standards. She had short blond hair, and piercing blue eyes. She was spattered in blood and brain matter, but didn’t seem to care.

She had a far away look in her eyes as she stared at Sam. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come.” She whispered before promptly falling over.

Sam looked at where she lay and ran through a few choices mentally. He found a clean sheet, wrapped her up in it and tossed her over his left shoulder. If things went badly he’d fight his way out of the habitat, and steal a ship with his ill gotten gain. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Before he walked out of the room he put on an amulet, which instantaneously glamoured him to look like a portly, gentle looking middle aged man with a beard and ponytail. The new identity was wearing a tasteful suit, and had a perpetual smile. Sam thought it would be hilarious to fight his way out of the habitat looking like that.

He retraced his steps, and dazzled a few nurses, who’d stopped him to enquire about the bundle over his shoulder, with bullshit. He was Richard Hideger, and he was a trustworthy sort. The very picture of benevolence and kindness. People wanted to believe anything Richard Hidegar said, because he had such an honest and trustworthy way about him.

No one would believe Sam that way. Sam looked dangerous, and rough. He looked untrustworthy and unsavory. His body language spoke volumes about him. His movements were too calculated, too guarded.

Not Richard though. His movements were casual, upbeat.

Somehow he walked right out the front door, and a small part of him regretted not being able to fight his way out of the habitat.

***

“I’m not sure what to do with her now that I have her.” Sam said pensively as he leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed. “I know this is an excellent opportunity to interrogate her, but… Something… It doesn’t matter.”

“I believe she has a touch of prophesy.” The sister commented as she finished cleansing away the blood, and other collective evidence in the apartment. “Artist, often have… Peculiarities.”

“She looked like she recognized me.” Sam said with a sigh.

“After you turned off his disruption system I was able to monitor the situation.” The sister commented. “She may very well have been waiting for you. She is considered eccentric among the circle she inhabits. Many of the sisterhood have been considered the same.”

“Eccentric might cover it, if you smear it thin enough.” Sam chuckled. “No offense, but y’all are nuts. She’s just an artist, which means weird in layman’s terms.”

The sister cocked an eyebrow and grinned. “You’re certainly not a good example of ordinary human behavior.” She said pleasantly.

Sam nodded and said; “Okay so this apartments chock full o’weird.”

She nodded, affirming that he was, in fact, correct.

He walked to the small round table and picked up a beer. He tapped the top three times activating the minor cooling spell and felt the stinging cold in his hand as the can frosted over. He popped the top and chugged some of the cold, refreshing beer down.

He preferred dark beer in bottles, strong stuff, but hadn’t felt the motivation to hunt for it in the habitat. He liked to drink two, or three beers to relax. He wasn’t much on drinking to the point of puking. That, he believed, was in the province of young people who didn’t realize drinking wasn’t a game to see who could drink the most. It was about drinking something you liked, and relaxing into a comfortable buzz.

Unfortunately, he thought, all I have is this sickly yellow beer, that only, just barely, makes the mark of being beer. He sat down and said; “I’m debating the pros and cons of disposing of her after she tells me what I need to know.”

The sister sat down on the other side of the table and retrieved a bottle of mineral water. She cast her own cooling spell on it like an after thought and said; “If you kill her, you may not have a chance to return for a piece of critical information.”

Sam nodded and said; “Also, if I kill her it’ll be another body to be found, and possibly tracked back to me, and I’m not too thrilled about how messy the hospital business was.”

The sister shook her head and said; “It’s been taken care of.”

He cocked an eyebrow and said; “You’re good.”

She nodded and said; “I’d hate to make you think you’re wasting your money.”

He nodded and said; “On the plus side, it’s one less person to have to worry about supplying any information about me. After all, I survive because I’m a ghost in the system. If people could pin anything about me down…”

“That would… complicate things for you.” The sister finished for him.

He nodded and finished his beer. He crushed the can between his thumb and forefinger and tossed it into the trash can across the room. “Exactly.” He said as he got to his feet. “I should wait until I’ve talked to her to come to a decision.”

The sister nodded and said; “Would you like me to wake her up?”

“Might as well.” He sighed. “Can’t skirt the issue forever.”

She cocked her eyebrow as she looked at him, but remained silent.

***

Sam sat in a chair next to the bed as her eyes blinked open. She sat up and looked around. “What’s, I mean, oh…” She said after a moment. She realized she was naked and covered herself with her arms and glared at him with accusing eyes.

“Yer a looker, but I didn’t grab you for that.” He said as he tapped the top of another beer three times. “I think you know some things that I want to know.”

Her glare softened into suspicion as he popped the top on the can.

“Now, I can ask nice, and get nice answers, or I can…” He began but was cut off by her chuckle.

“You want to know about Thor.” She said evenly and pulled the blanket up off of the bed to cover herself. She looked at his expression and grinned. “You’re really not as callous as you act, Sam Templar.”

The full can of beer hit the floor and foamed out over the carpet. He felt like a deer in the headlights.

She got to her feet and walked across the room trailing blankets behind her. She picked up two cans of beer and walked back to hand him one. He accepted the can limply.

She tapped hers, popped the top and took a drink.

His eyes narrowed and he said; “You’re a setup.”

She shook her head casually and said; “No, but they are here. They don’t know you are yet, but it won’t be long.”

He felt his stomach sink and said; “How do you know about Them?”

She shrugged and said; “How do you know when someone’s trying to sneak up on you?”

He tapped the beer three times and said; “Where is Thor?”

“It’s safe, for now.” She replied with a smirk. “I know it sounds like I’m being difficult on purpose, but that’s all I know right now. It’s been waiting for you, and none other.”

Sam tried to glare a hole through her. He was disturbed, and felt uncharacteristically confused and vulnerable. He controlled his urge to start hurting her to get some answers, and instead asked; “Who do you seem to think you’re toying with?”

“I’m not toying with you, Sam.” She said with and earnest, slightly frightened expression. She looked down at her toes and said; “I know some things, and not others sometimes, and then I forget some things, and know other sometimes. If I could give you a simple answer I would. You need to find Thor, before they do, and they’re looking, but in the wrong direction. I’ll help you if I can.”

Sam thought for a moment, closed his eyes, and slowly he calmed down. He wasn’t very good at reading people, but he could tell when someone was hostile towards him. She wasn’t. He opened his eyes tapped his beer and cracked the top.

He drained the can and said; “Alright tell me what you can. We’ll go from there.”

She nodded and said; “There are keys you need to have to find and retrieve Thor. I can find you the first key if you get my Tarot Cards.”

Sam looked at the shallow shadow, which contained the sister and said; “Could you get them. I want to keep an eye on our artistic fortune teller.”

He felt a nod, and the shadow was suddenly less dark.

“I didn’t ask for this.” She said slightly depressed. “I never wanted to see everything the way I do.”

Sam shrugged and said; “We don’t always get a choice.”

“My names Remy Alsworth.” She said trying to sound conversational. “Everyone calls me Chunks though.”

Sam cocked an eyebrow and asked; “Why Chunks?”

She chuckled dryly and said; “Obviously, because I’m a fat ass.”

Sam imagined she was five feet eight inches tall, and he had a good eye for estimating such things. She weighed, maybe, one hundred and sixty pounds. She wasn’t skinny, but she wasn’t fat either. She was what he tended to call voluptuous. He wasn’t sure that others would agree, but it was his critique so he didn’t care.

Fashion in the past few centuries had tended more towards skeletally thin women, with severe, jagged features. She was the opposite end of the spectrum. Her features were soft, smooth, just a little comforting to look at.

“Then why haven’t you gotten sculpted?” He asked curiously.

“Because, I didn’t want to.” She chuckled. “I like the way I look.”

“That makes two of us.” He said, before he could stop himself.

She smiled at him and asked, “Are you flirting with me?”

He shrugged and said, “No.”

“You are too.” She said with a childish tone. “You think I’m hot doncha?”

He couldn’t help but smile. He remained silent though. He crushed the empty can in his hand between his thumb and forefinger and tossed it into the trash can.

“How’d you do that?” She asked curiously.

“Huh?” He grumbled.

“Crush that can.” She replied.

“You watched me do it.” He said with a cocked eyebrow.

She shook her head and said; “Listen, I’ve got pretty strong hands, and I can barely crumple a can up sideways with my hands, let alone end to end with my fingertips.”

He shrugged and said; “Don’t worry about it.”

She finished her beer and said; “You plan to kill me don’t you?”

He locked eyes with her, and decided he didn’t have any reason to lie. “I haven’t decided yet.” He replied evenly.

“Well, let me know when you decide.” She said and laid back on the bed. She turned onto her side and propped her head up, and then said; “Could you loan me some clothes until you make up your mind. I don’t like being naked in front of creepy old men.”

“Old?” He puzzled. He looked like he could be anywhere from twenty five to fifty. And fifty wasn’t old. A hundred and fifty was old.

“Yeah.” She replied with a smirk. “You’ve got to be at least… What? A couple thousand years old to have been on Thor before the collapse.”

“Hmm…” He mused. “I suppose you have a point. Alright, I’ll loan you a T-shirt, and a pair of pants, under one condition.”

“Such as?” She said with a playful grin.

“If I tell you to take them off, you do, no questions asked.” He said coolly.

She eyed him curiously, and her face melted into disenchantment. “So you don’t get ‘em messed up when you kill me.” She stated glumly.

“Is it a deal?” He asked evenly.

“Okay.” She said with a sigh.

Sam nodded and walked to the corner where his duffle bag resided. He bent over and sifted through it. He turned just in time to see her yank the knife out of his waistband. She held it out in front of her with both hands.

He shook his head and said; “Put that down before you get hurt.”

She seemed frantic as she backpedaled towards the door. “No fucking way.” She stammered. “I’m not going to hang out and wait for you to waste me.”

“I can respect that.” He said evenly, and meant it. “Everything has the right to fight for its survival.”

“Don’t try being all friendly now.” She said as she entered the hall which lead to the door. “I’m not going for it.”

Sam sighed and bolted into her. She let out a gasp as the knife was knocked out of her hand. He pulled his palm after a light slap to the abdomen. She doubled over gasping. He grabbed her by the upper arm and hauled her upright. He pulled her back to the bed and sat her down on it, saying, “You’re clever enough to be dangerous, to yourself.”

He eased her down onto the bed and said, “I could have killed you with that blow.”

She looked up at him still gasping.

He pulled the blankets up from where they rested on the floor and draped them over her. “I really do respect what you did.” He said evenly as he retrieved the knife from where it had landed. “I expected an escape attempt, but not quite so well thought out. You surprised the hell outta me.”

“Fuck you.” She gasped and rubbed her belly, where there was a red splotch from the impact.

He shifted out of his dumb thug act like it was a pair of shoes and said, “I don’t believe it’s necessary for us to be unpleasant to each other. So please accept the fact that you cannot escape. You’re welcome to try again, as I said, you have the right to fight for your survival, everything does. However you cannot win free of me, and your death has not been assured yet.”

She laid back and curled up.

He picked up his duffel and tossed it onto the bed next to her saying, “Pick out a shirt, and a pair of pants.”

***

Sam was starting to wonder what had happened to the sister. She’d been gone for nearly an hour. The door swung open and she quickly closed it and rushed in. “They are coming.” She said with a calm that opposed her quick movements. She was busily throwing things into thick garbage bags. She reached into her pocket and tossed a small box to Remy.

Remy looked at her tarot cards dumbly as both Sam and the sister quickly started eliminating the traces of their existence in the small apartment.

“They were waiting at her apartment.” The sister explained as they worked. “I don’t know how, but they detected me. We’ve been playing a game of cat and mouse since, with the roles changing occasionally. I think I managed to loose them briefly, but they’ll pick up my scent shortly I imagine.”

Sam looked at Remy and then the sister. “Can you slip them permanently after we’re out?” He asked the sister.

“Yes.” She replied. “I have some tricks that are beyond even them.”

Sam nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m going to need an emergency egress for two, and a few aliases for her.”

The sister nodded and said; “I thought you might.”

She produced a vacuum packed package from a pocket and handed it to him. Sam nodded and put on his bomber jacket, and after assuring that he still had the ten millimeter in his pocket and the spare magazine in the other looked at Remy and said, “You can come with me, but I don’t have the time or patience to put up with anymore crap. They want you, and that’s nothing but bad for you. Believe me. If you’re coming, you’re going to do what I say.”

She thought for a moment and got to her feet saying, “Alright, but I don’t have any shoes.”

“Tough.” He replied deadpan.

He grabbed her by the arm as he picked up his duffel and walked to the door. “Thanks.” He said to the sister, and walked out.

They were in one of the narrow off shoot corridors when they exited through the back of the apartment module. He looked around and took off to the left. He received a file that told him what ship he had to get on. He had twenty minutes to get to it. He ripped open the package the sister had given him as they walked and found the look alike I.D. for Remy. He handed it to her and said, “You’ve got twenty minute to know who you are.”

She took it and repeated the name on the card. “Amila Handers.” She said absently as he dragged her along by the hand. Two men in trench coats turned into the empty corridor.

Sam knew it was them instantly. His hand was a blur as he ripped out the ten mil and brought it up firing. He fired three rounds and ducked into an entryway, tossing Remy behind him roughly.

“Is that you Templar?” One of them asked. “If it is, waste the girl and we’ll leave. We’ve got no further use for you, so as far as we’re concerned you can walk away.”

Sam considered it for a moment and looked at Remy. Her bottom lip was quivering. She looked like someone who didn’t want to hope, but was anyway. She stiffened when he turned to face her and pulled of his bomber jacket. He draped it over her, fished his spare mag out of the left pocket and said, “Stay behind me. Move when I move.”

He ejected the mag from the pistol and loaded the fresh one. He still had one in the pipe. He pocketed the partially depleted mag and rushed out of the recessed arch. He could feel hands on his back as he went.

They both stepped out of entry ways like the one he’d been in and fired at him.

He felt a round hit him high in the left shoulder. They hadn’t expected to run into him, so they were packing standard antipersonnel rounds. He grinned as he returned fire. Could they kill him? Yes, everything could be killed, he knew. The likelihood of them killing him with standard hollow-points was miniscule though.

He fired off three rounds into the closest one as he rushed forward. All three rounds were thoracic hits, close to center. The hunter went down. He took another hit in the thigh and felt it pass through. It barely registered as an injury to him, but he was concerned it had hit Remy. If he had to carry her it would attract unnecessary attention.

He fired two rounds into the last standing assaulter. He snapped his gun hand down and fired a round though the first hunters head as he stepped over him. The hunter had been trying to sit up and bring his weapon up. He finally went limp.

He stopped only briefly the put a round through the next hunters head. He reached back with his left hand and grabbed the collar of his bomber jacket, pulled Remy around and pushed her head down roughly as he scanned the area.

Nothing stirred, so he pulled her up, checked the time, and took her by the wrist. He’d left his duffel behind. He only had so many hands. He sighed in irritation and took off running, pulling her behind him.

He barely managed to get his arm through the lift doors before they closed. There was one other occupant, and as his luck would have it, it was a cop. The cop took one look at his wounds, and the gun in his hand, and immediately reached for her piece. He jumped forward with his knee leading, doubled her over it, and brought his elbow down on the back of her head.

He decided in that moment that the day was less than he had hoped for. The cop was out cold on the floor of the lift. He took her earpiece and crushed it. He kicked her weapon out of its holster, since touching one would only get him shocked and used her restraints to fix her hands to the lifts railing. He looked at the display as his mind spiked the habitats mainframe, and danced around the security protocols. He took control of the lift, and felt it lurch as speed increased, and it was redirected.

He only had a few more minutes until his ship left. He wrapped his arms around Remy, who was stiff, and shaking, and then came the mind jarring lurch as the lift stopped and he was slammed into the wall. He felt a rib give way under the pressure of the suddenly limp woman in his arms.

He shook her roughly and she was awake again. He looked at the cop, who’d fortunately been attached to the forward wall, or her arms may have been torn off. He pocketed the pistol, and they stepped out of the lift. He dragged her along behind him, walking as quickly as she could keep up.

He heard the chimes coming from the dock their ship was moored to. He picked up his pace, nearly dragging her off of her feet, and they made it right before the last passenger had boarded.