by Dameon Gibbs
It sounds like some shock value could help the good guys. And with that Quake blew the back three feet of the boat clean off. He could see the explosion reflected in the water then heard the splashes of debris raining down. Hmm. Two charges might’ve been overkill…maybe.
After several seconds of shock and awe at the fireworks, Tucker raised his gun to drop the guard closest to him. Before he could pull the trigger, the soldier turned and looked at him, seeing the analyst standing there, gun at the ready. He hesitated, surprised, and then spun to take aim his gun at Tucker. Meanwhile, Tucker watched as a hand grip one of the cleats on the dock and hauled a very large man halfway out of the water.
It was Quake, with a pistol in his free hand he quickly disposed of the two guards on the dock, two shots each. Two for you and two for you, share and share alike. As the second soldier dropped to his knees, Quake took a second to look at Tucker. “You all right?”
“Yeah, thanks… Quake duck!” Tucker yelled as Keeast rose to one knee and fired at Quake’s location. The giant yelled as he dropped back into the water. Tucker spotted blood where the Delta had been. He had no time to wonder if the man was seriously injured, for Keeast promptly aimed and fired two shots at him. The first missed but the second hit the barrel of the assault rifle. Tucker yelled as the gun twisted out of his hand, nearly taking his finger with it.
He was quick enough to drop and roll behind cover. The bullets were amazingly close. It sent a chill down Tucker’s spine at how deadly Keeast was proving to be. Tucker grabbed his pistol and fired a few rounds in return, hoping they would distract the bald psycho. Keeast failed to flinch. He was well aware of his skill versus Tucker’s, and he knew he owned the pencil pusher.
“Tucker! I kill people like you for fun. You sit behind a desk,” Keeast yelled, mockingly.
Why’s he taunting me? He’s trying to distract me, but from what? Then it hit like a hammer to steel. He’s empty. You have to do this now! Right now! Tucker hesitated. NOW!
With that last mental push, Tucker came sprinting out to find Keeast pulling a magazine off his hip. He was just finishing his taunt when it registered that Tucker was coming.
Keeast’s hands slid the magazine into the gun with such speed that Tucker almost did not see it happen, then everything slowed to a crawl as Keeast pulled the slide of the gun back, locking a round in the chamber. Tucker knew he was getting closer with each step, but watching Keeast load the weapon made him think he was not going to get close enough. Tucker raised his gun to be ready. I can’t hit him from here, I’m too far, Tucker thought pessimistically.
Keeast leveled his gun and a sinister grin sliced across his face. At that moment, Tucker no longer worried about the distance or who he is was going against. He gave a head fake to his left and moved slightly to his right. It worked on the field; let’s see what it does here! Three shots rang out. The first shot was Keeast’s and it missed, a millisecond later came Tucker’s two shots. The first hit Keeast over the heart while the second slammed into his shoulder. Winford’s minion spun and hit the side of the sinking boat face first only to dropped into the dark water below.
Tucker stood there for a bit. The adrenaline was in overdrive. He took another deep breath and aimed the gun at his real target, the old man who was slowly trying to stand up. He allows his hands drop to the pier to provide balance.
“Give it up, Director. It’s over.” Tucker emphasized his title as a way of showing his disdain for the man’s actions.
“It’s far from over, Tucker,” he laughed while coughing. “Well, for me, yes, it is. Cancer has made sure of that, thanks to your government. Although my time is up, my men will ensure what I have started will persists!”
“Your health is not a defendable reason for the atrocities you have committed against a system you once held dear.”
Winford chuckled some more. “You’re wrong. It is completely defendable. Can you recall these words? ‘That whenever any form of government becomes destructive to these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new government.’ That is the sole reason for my actions!” The difference between strong convictions and closed-mindedness is usually narrow vision.
“Yes, the Declaration of Independence,” Tucker stated, “and it’s been used by crackpots to justify all kinds of plots and schemes.”
“The Order will ensure new government. My people will not give up. Contingency plans are set. I was never going to live to see it through. But just to start the fires,” he continued.
“You murdered people and tried to pin their deaths on others. You ruined people’s lives.”
Winford let out a bigger laugh. “Gamze was a fool to think I shared his goals of ending westernized governments. But why stop with westernized governments when I can bring an end to all governments? However, his incompetence made it easy to set him up. Getting him to enter the country was all part of the plan, he unknowingly provided the perfect scapegoat for the Order’s ultimate plan. The attack on Miami will always be seen by the people as the doing off a radical terrorist organization, headed by Gamze Nezaket. Why? Because your government will not admit to the pawns of society that its own people were responsible for the attack. It will do what it does best.”
“And what is that?”
Winford smiled in satisfaction. “Keep secrets.”
“There are more honorable ways to get your point across than mass murder,” said Tucker.
“Honor? Bah! Policies are signed in blood! Death is the only way to convince the government of their wrongdoing and history has proven that time and time again.” As Winford went on he reached down and grabbed the gun Keeast had dropped when he was shot. Tucker saw it, as Winford made little attempt to hide his action.
At that moment, the faces of Trident, Reid, and Crawford flashed across Tucker’s face. Tucker could easily avenge them all right now if he pulled this trigger. He could be judge, jury, and executioner by one simple action. In doing so, he would lose what he stood for and become what he had been chasing for the last two weeks.
“I’m not going to kill you just because you grabbed a gun. Suicide by the agent is such a cheap way out. Show me you still have some dignity, the man I always saw you as. Let me take you in. Stand trial, make your argument known. Die with your honor intact,” Tucker commented as he raised the weapon at his former mentor. “But if you raise that gun. I’ll do it.”
“I know you Tucker, your type. You won’t kill me. As for your offer, I will have to decline. The system is corrupt, and the people in power will prevent me from being heard. No, the Order is the only way to awaken the people to the lies they have been sleeping with!” Winford said, gripping the gun harder.
“You’ve awakened them to a nightmare of destruction and death. How is this any better?”
“Before the Phoenix can be reborn, it must first set itself ablaze and burn itself to ash. Miami and the others to follow are a necessity for this world to be reborn. People like you will never understand!”
The old man snapped the gun up with surprising speed.
“You don’t know me,” said Tucker as he pulled the trigger and placed a single round into the chest of the man that he once called a mentor. Winford fell on his back, a look of shock on his face that Tucker shot him. “And you don’t know the people you plan to hurt. That’s why your plans will fail, and I’ll make sure of it.”
Winford went to speak as if to disprove Tucker but his body could not fight the inevitable, gurgling on his blood life disappeared from his eyes. Tucker took one last look at the fraud he had once accounted an American hero and the personification of a good agent. He wondered what questions would be raised by Winford’s death and how the facts would be dealt with.
۞۞۞۞
Making his way back to the front of what use to be Building 2, which was now half underwater, he saw Quake standing at the end of the dock waiting for him. Tucker raised an eyebrow. “Been there long?”
“Long eno
ugh to see you school them,” Quake smiled.
“You decided not to join in?”
A big smile came across the huge man. “Nah, you didn’t need my help. Besides, looked like it was a private conversation.” Tucker nodded, and the two made their way around to where the cars that brought them in were parked.
Edge stood next to Pitch and Ramona, who were doing some touch-up work on Hawk, who presently had a magazine in his mouth. He bit down on it as Pitch tightened some wraps around a wound. “How does that feel?” Hawk responded in a muffled growl.
Pitch removed the magazine from his mouth, “If you weren’t so damn rough I wouldn’t need this in my mouth.”
“Welcome!” Pitch said with a smile. “Hey, Quake, need some help with that wound?”
Quake looked at Hawk and Edge, who shook their head. “Nah, it’s just a scratch. I’m fine.”
“You sure?” he asked pulling a piece of tape off the roll with a sadistic smile.
“Real sure.”
Edge walked up to Tucker and looked into the man’s eyes. Like the rest of the team, they showed fatigue. “You all right?” Edge asked.
A weary smile came across Tucker’s face. “I guess as good as I can feel after all that.” A smile came across Edge’s face, Tucker continued, “I feel more relieved than good, but thanks for your help, all of you.”
The members of the team nodded their heads; Pitch simply threw a thumbs up.
“Glad to be of service,” Edge replied. “But you know this is going to be one hell of a shit storm to get ourselves out of.”
“Hell, after what I’ve been through the past few days, I’ll take on any pencil pushers.” Tucker could not help but notice his removal of himself from that group.
“Hey, Sarge,” Pitch said as he tossed his radio to Edge. “Dust and Doom.”
“Doom. You ok?”
“Hey Edge, its’ Dust. Doom’s good. He definitely has a few broken ribs. It was tough getting him down. Any chance you can pick us up?” The radio rustled as the radio changed hands.
Doom’s voice came over the radio, straining with his broken ribs. “You need to pick me up now.”
“You hurt that bad?” Edge asked, suspecting he was not.
“Dust has not stopped talking since he got here. Pick me up or he’s swimming.”
Dust’s voice was audible in the background. “Aww, come on man, don’t be so grumpy. You’ll get some nice R and R with your wife; we’ll be sure to come by and visit ya. Keep your spirits up while you recover.”
Dooms sighed, “You’re not coming over.”
“What’s stopping me?”
“I’m telling my wife that you’re responsible for my condition.”
Dust’s tone changed instantly. “Now that’s not fair. She’ll beat me to death with a rolling pin.”
“That’s why I married her,” he continued into the radio, “Edge it’s time to go home.”
Edge just shook his head. “On our way.” Despite Doom’s tone, he knew his team, and this was how they let out their energy. Most people sat in silence, his team spoke and joked and reminded themselves that there is more to life than the death they encountered. Speaking of life…
Edge walked up to Tucker, placed an open palm upon his shoulder.
“I’ve got to say; you handled yourself well out there. I think you’ve got a future in Special Forces,” Edge said as he guided Tucker to a particular location. “What do you think, Ramona?” With that, Edge gave Tucker a slight shove and walked away.
Upon seeing Tucker, a huge smile beamed across her face. Raising from her seat, she slowly walked to him. The beaten and confused Tucker managed to hold Ramona, the sound of approaching sirens blaring in the distance.
“What did he ask?” Ramona questioned.
Tucker looked in Edge’s direction. “I think it was rhetorical.” He held her at arm’s length for a moment. “I’m sorry this happened,” he apologized.
“Well, It’s not exactly how I envisioned our first kiss but, hey, it was unique,” Ramona said, knowing what Tucker meant, but at the moment not caring. Yeah, still the drugs.
Tucker was too tired so correct her so he just went with the conversation. “This is going to make a tall order for the first date huh?”
“After tonight, you could get me take out and I’d be happy.”
“Done,” he said as the two gave one more solid hug.
Ramona whispered in his ear, “Make sure you bring your shower bag.”
Epilogue
September 17, Present Day
6:30 pm EST
Tucker and Edge sat at their desks at Langley looking over a tidal wave of personnel files. Tucker looked up a second and noticed that the sun had moved two window panes since they had started.
You never focus on the time when you don't have the sun acting as a constant reminder, Tucker thought.
His new office had taken Tucker some getting used to: windows brought in constant light, the new desks and chairs were very comfortable, but his old couch found its way in. He just could not part with his old home-away-from-home.
The new office did not come without new responsibilities. Tucker and Edge had been placed in charge of a Joint Special Task Force charged with taking down all those associated with the Order of the Phoenix. The files before them consisted of volunteers and recommendations; people who had the drive, skills, and personalities necessary to complete the objective. Tucker and Edge read each of them thoroughly, searching for the best of the best. After the selection process would come the interviews and after that the training. By the time it was done, the hundreds of files before them would be narrowed down into a team of a few dozen.
It had been several months since the incident at the docks. With the various investigations, interrogations, testifying before committees, and with PR spinning, it felt like years. The Order had kept itself quiet, yet Edge and Tucker knew the clock was ticking. In Edge's mind, the Order was ready to act, and this time, they were not going to hide in the shadows.
Edge rolled his neck, and it popped a number of times, which informed him he needed a break. “Hey Tucker, I forgot to ask: how did that call with Reid’s parents go?”
DHS had notified Reid's family long ago of his death in the field, but Tucker felt he had owed the family a call of his own.
“Truthfully, it was one of the hardest conversations I ever had with anyone. They seem to be handling it as well as anyone could, I guess. I'm not sure if they were comforting me or I was comforting them. They repeatedly said that he died doing what he loved and that they were proud of what he had accomplished. I honestly never pictured myself having to do something like that. I don't know if I could…” Tucker caught himself, “well I'm not sure if I would want to do it again.”
“You’ll have to,” Edge warned. “You will for three reasons. First, we're going to lose more people. Second, the family needs the closure and comfort of a person who knew them, not some generic statement from a person who never even served with them. Third, because it will help you. I've been doing this a long time, and if you keep those emotions bottled up, they'll incapacitate you at the moment when others need you most.”
Edge took out his phone and flipped through it before walking it over to Tucker. What Tucker saw was a list of names on a piece of paper, a symbol next to each one. The last one on the list had a three-pronged object; a trident.
“That's a long list,” Tucker commented.
“Shorter than other people. I've called every one of their families. Trident's was the hardest. He always talked about how there was no one there for him at home, and he wasn't lying. The first words from the family was a question about money and benefits.”
Edge shrugged, “His friends I knew were more appreciative of the call.”
Tucker nodded in understanding. Edge changed his tone. “We also have to be able to celebrate our life and keep moving. And on that note, it’s after end-of-day, why are you sticking around here? Shouldn’t you be
getting a bottle of wine and picking up something special? If I know women, Ramona is not going to want to wait for her birthday dinner.”
Tucker gave a slight chuckle. “I guess you're right,” he said, looking down at his watch. “Yeah, I’m still getting used to this leaving work early thing.”
“You mean on time, which you still aren’t doing right,” Edge teased. “How are things going with you two anyway?”
“Things couldn’t be better," Tucker groaned as he got out of the chair. "She did complain that our recreational time has dwindled a bit due to your training regimen. “She had to massage my back for three nights after that throw you got me with.”
Edge laughed. “I keep telling you to breathe when you hit the ground. You'll get used to it. And besides this is the easy part.”
“Yeah, nine out of ten superheroes agree that it’s easy. Sadly I'm not a superhero.”
“Just wait till Hawk and Quake take you mountain climbing. You'll beg for my routines,” Edge promised. Tucker just stared back.
The two started packing up when Tucker saw the name on a file he had not gotten to yet.
“Hey Edge, I'm going to let you read this applicant profile,” he said as he handed it over. Edge opened up the folder and saw the familiar face framed with red hair before he read the name: Dana Warren.
“She's got what it takes in my book,” Edge said as he stuffed the folder it into his bag. Tucker gave him an amused look.
“What?” Edge asked.
Tucker just raised his eyebrows.
“I need some late night reading,” Edge defended.
Tucker chuckled and said, “Uh-huh. Anyway, besides your 'reading' what are you doing tonight Edge?”
“I plan on giving my niece a call. Haven’t really had the chance to talk to her since we started up this team.”
Edge’s cell phone rang. “Who could this be?” he wondered at the blocked number. He answered, asking, “Who is this?”
