Nimrod Squad

by Bard Constantine

  "You look like you've come a long way, sweetheart."

  She gave him a sidelong glance. "My name isn't sweetheart."

  "My apologies, young lady. I only supplied the term of affection in place of not knowing your name. My name is Rex, by the way. That's Latin for king. I might not look like such, but don't let the rags fool you. I'm the ruler of everything you see around you."

  She hesitated for a second before answering. "My name is…Jinx."

  "My, my. A dangerous name. I like you already. Would you happen to be Dominican by any chance?"

  "Afro-Dominican." She raised an eyebrow. "The Dominican is from my mother's side. I'm impressed."

  "Oh, I got the eye, Ms. Jinx. Been around long as I have and you get to know the lay of the land and the people in it. You come from the Southeastern part of the country I take it. Maybe whatever's left of Florida?"

  Her jaw stiffened. "I'm not in the habit of telling my business to strangers."

  His eyes crinkled when he smiled. "Didn't mean nothing by it. None of my business, anyhow. I just meant you must have come a long way to end up in this dusty part of Tijuana."

  "I guess." She sipped her drink, eyes far away. "Everyone's coming or going a long way, aren't they?"

  He chuckled. "I guess they are at that, miss. Nomads and refugees. We get a lot around here."

  "And which are you, Rex? A nomad or a refugee?"

  "Me, I'm neither. I’m what folks call a Nimrod."

  Her eyes narrowed. "A bounty hunter."

  He grinned. "No need to say it like a curse. This here's the Watering Hole. Nothing but Nimrods show up at this fine facility. Sure, we get a Troubleshooter now and then. The occasional hitman too. They're like those second cousins you don't want to acknowledge as family, know what I mean? Point is, this here's sacred ground for men in the bagging and tagging business. Safest place to be, rest assured. I know because I run the place. So no worries. Unless you got a bounty on your head, of course." He gave her a gap-toothed grin.

  She opened her mouth but was cut off by a loud banging on the door. Everyone paused. Rex's craggy brows creased in confusion.

  "Someone out there in the middle of the storm? Bolts—let 'em in quick."

  Jinx shook her head in protest, but the android bartender had already hit the entrance button. The doors clattered open, revealing the heavy storm shield rolling doors behind them, rattling from the punishment outside. They slowly rolled up. The wind howled when it entered, pushing rain inside that pooled across the floor.

  Mateo squinted. It was hard to tell, but it looked like a group of people outside. They wore heavy storm slickers, but he caught flashes of combat armor under the weatherproof fabric. He looked at Rex.

  "I don't think that—"

  It was too late. The six men and women that entered weren’t there to hide from the storm. Their sophisticated, fully-masked headgear and tactical body armor marked them as professionals. The next-gen plasma rifles they toted only confirmed the fact.

  They ducked under the rolling door and spread out as it closed behind them. The sound of the storm muted when the door locked back in place. Water streamed from their slickers and weapons, dripping onto the floor. Electric blue light pulsed from their helmet visors, and red targeting lasers beamed from their rifles, fanning across the room.

  The leader of the crew stepped forward. His helmet was red, the only thing that marked him any different from his black-clad comrades. His voice buzzed from the helmet in a menacing rasp.

  "Everyone stay calm. We're here for the girl." He pointed a gloved finger her direction.

  Rex leaned back, folding his arms above his stout belly. "Is that right? Looks like you boys are in the business. Nimrods?"

  "That's right, old man. Don't get in our way and nobody gets—"

  He was stopped by Rex's upraised finger. "I say who gets hurt. You see, if you're in the business then you know where you're at. This is the Watering Hole. You know what that means. Anyone who enters has asylum if the Proprietor lets them in. I'm the Proprietor, if you haven't caught on yet. This young lady is protected under the law of Presidium. You don't wanna go against that, son. There are consequences."

  "Presidium can go screw. I never joined your little guild of rules and nonsense. She's a bounty head. We've been chasing her for weeks. You know how much she's worth, old man?"

  "Don't matter. You want her bounty; you get it when she's off grounds. Until then you have two options: take a seat and order a brew, or leave. Make up your mind quick. I got drinking to do."

  Cash leaned forward, squinting. "Beckett, is that you?"

  Beckett shuffled uncomfortably. "No."

  "Yeah, it is. You hang that trashy rosary from the barrel of every new gun you get. Nice gear, by the way. You buy it with all the dough you stole from me?"

  Beckett tapped his helmet, raising the visor. The bearded man sneered, twisting the scar that ran down across the bridge of his nose, narrowly missing his eye. "Stole? You lost your share by being careless. I told you to trust no one in this game."

  "I didn't think you meant yourself."

  "Especially me. Look—no hard feelings. You just ain't cut out for this work. Still think like a cop. So yeah, I needed new gear and a new crew. You know—after you let the last one get cut to shreds."

  Cash clenched his fists. "Is that what you told these guys?"

  "Doesn't matter what I told them. Nothing matters but her." Beckett stared at Jinx, who glared back. He grinned. "Jinx la Fox, master hacker and thief. That girl is worth her weight in bulls. Ten times her weight. She's got a bounty on her head the size of Texas, and I'm aiming to collect. You boys outta be smart and stand down. Maybe I'll cut you a slice of this loaf."

  Rex raised a bushy eyebrow. "And if we don't?"

  Beckett looked back at his crew as if to reassure himself. His shoulders stiffened. "Get out the way or get rolled over. Either way, we're taking the girl."

  Rex shrugged. "Your funeral. Bolts."

  Beckett looked confused. "Bolts…?"

  The confusion ended when the android pulled a pair of turret guns from behind the counter and opened fire.

  Mateo dropped to the floor, covering his ears. The sound was so loud, explosive booms that shook the entire room. Debris rained in the air; glass, wood, sheetrock showered on his head and shoulders. He gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. The shooting seemed to last forever. Finally, the guns went empty with a whirring sound.

  He slowly pushed himself up to a kneeling position as he took a cautious look around. Bolts stood behind the counter, smoking guns still in his hands. The building was shredded, bullet holes everywhere. Damaged lights flickered overhead. Water streamed through, driven by the ferocious winds outside.

  Jinx crouched a few paces away, peering from behind the bar counter. He couldn't figure whether the custom piece of equipment in her hand was a weapon or gadget.

  His eyes widened. "Hey, is that cy-gear? That's so cool!"

  She stared at him as if he were crazy, putting a finger to her lips before pointing. He glanced over, realizing what she saw.

  Beckett and his crew picked themselves up from the floor. Blue light flickered over their suits from the shields that activated at the threat of gunfire. The sheer force of the close-quarters impact had bowled them over, but they were otherwise undamaged. Beckett glanced down at himself, then back up at Rex, who sat in the same place, glass and debris dusting his hair and shoulders.

  Beckett chuckled behind his visor. "Well, whaddya know. Looks like these cybersuits were worth the dough I stole from you, Cash. Too bad your friend isn't wearing one."

  He nonchalantly shot Rex directly in the chest.

  Mateo screamed. Adrenaline exploded in that instant, causing his vision to film over in red. Time seemed to stand still. He leaped to his feet, running forward. Snatching his arcsaber from his side, he activated the weapon. A slim rod of graphenite whisked from the hilt, a small ninety-degree angle at the end. An arc
laser ignited from the sword hilt, connecting to the end of the angle. The blade hummed with galvanic energy with every movement.

  Cash popped up from behind a fallen table, firing explosive rounds from his handgun. The mercenary crew took defensive positions, maneuvering to take on the new threat. To Mateo, everyone moved in slow motion.

  Everyone except him.

  His arcsaber slashed through the barrel of the nearest mercenary's plasma rifle in a shower of sparks. He never slowed, dropping low to cut the man's leg off at the knee with a sizzling sound. The merc screamed; a low-pitched gurgle that drifted from his helmet as though underwater.

  Jinx leaped over the counter, yelling as she fired a charged blast from her Ion pistol. It struck Mateo's opponent in the chest, bowling him over

  Mateo whirled, ducking under a point-blank shot at his face from another mercenary. Wrapping his arm around the woman's shoulder, he twisted, flipping her over into one of her comrades. They both toppled to the floor. Mateo spun, driving a kick into the next merc's midsection. His following attack with the arcsaber struck a photon shield that sprang from the man's gauntlet. Blinding light flashed when the opposing energies clashed; the scent of burning ozone filled the air.

  Bullets and energy rounds zipped across the room, impossibly slow. Mateo didn't pay the chaos any attention. The only thing that mattered was the foe in front of him.

  He let the arcsaber glance off the merc's shield, dropping to smash his boot into the side of the man's knee, buckling it. And the man stumbled, Mateo rotated to his blind side and raised the arcsaber for the killing strike.

  The laser winked out just before the blow landed. The metallic brace struck instead, dropping the mercenary to the floor. Mateo blinked at his weapon in confusion before realizing a similar outcome was affecting the mercenary's cybersuits. Their function panels and ops systems crashed unanimously, rendering them vulnerable.

  Mateo glanced over at Jinx. Her expression was triumphant as her fingers worked the cy-gear controls. The nearest mercenary's arm lifted, aimed her rifle at her partner.

  "I can't stop it," the merc said in a panicked voice, using her other hand to try to force her arm back. It was pointless. Her weapon fired a shot point-blank in her partner's chest.

  "Shit. We've been compromised. Lose your cyber-skins!" Beckett hit a button on his control harness and practically threw himself out his suit as it unzipped. Reaching in his jacket, he extracted a frag grenade. Rolling it toward the middle of the bar, he simultaneously hit the EMERGENCY EXIT button on the wall.

  Cash's voice was barely audible against the howling wind that shoved into the room, but Mateo knew it was something about finding cover. He leaped to the back of the room, helped by the billowing squall that shoved him even further. There was so much lightning and thunder that he didn't see or hear the grenade detonation. Rain sparkled in the light like newly polished diamonds, illuminating the destruction as whatever was left standing was shredded by frag shards or knocked aside by the monstrous wind surge. Mateo covered his face, shielding himself from the debris.

  Then just as if someone flicked a switch, the noise died. Bright sunlight streamed in from the windows and the bullet holes in the walls, thick clouds of steam lifted from the floor, and humidity filled the room like an invisible wet blanket as the storm passed as quickly as it arrived.

  Mateo blinked from the sudden brilliance, using the bar counter to help pull himself to his feet. A few feet away, Jinx did the same. Mateo gave her a nod.

  "Nice trick with the hack."

  "Thanks."

  Across the bar, Cash pushed a booth table away and stood, brushing himself off. He glanced around what remained of the place—four walls and rubble. Bolts the bartender was missing his head and most of his upper body. Three of the mercenaries were half-buried under the debris.

  "Damn. Beckett got away."

  "No way he survived without his cyber-suit."

  "You don't know Beckett. The bastard has nine lives. I saw an armored roller outside. Top of the line and shielded for megastorms. That's how they got here in the first place. Besides, he can't die when we got a score to settle. He's gonna pay for this." He pointed at Rex's body.

  Mateo walked over, reluctantly looking at the damage. The old man had a hand over his fatal chest wound and suffered from several other lesser injuries from the explosion. But his face looked relaxed and at peace; as if he had fallen asleep in his chair.

  Cash shook his head. "He never even tried to get out the way. I think he was ready to go. Like maybe he knew it was his time."

  Mateo nodded.

  "You gonna be okay? How long were you his partner?"

  "Since two days ago."

  "What?"

  "Yeah. I was new in town. He got to talking and said he needed a hand. Not to hunt bounties. He needed a partner to run this place." Mateo gestured to the ruined building.

  "Well, where the hell did you learn to fight like that? Never seen anything like it outside of HSSC Elites. Never seen a weapon like that, either."

  Mateo glanced at the arcsaber in the holster on his hip. "I built it."

  "Seriously?"

  "Yeah. I'm good at building things. Fixing old stuff, making it new."

  "A gearhead, huh? You seem like you're full of tricks, kid." Cash glanced over at Jinx, who had been inching her way toward the door. "You okay?"

  She paused. "Yeah. Fine."

  "Well, appreciate the help in taking those guys down." Cash held out his hand. After a moment's hesitation, she shook it.

  He slapped a pair of manacles on her wrist.

  "Hey, what the hell?" Her free hand shot to the cy-gear on her belt. Cash stopped her when he pulled his sidearm.

  "I don't think so, Ms. la Fox. Your little hacking tricks won’t work on a regular ol' gun that shoots regular ol' bullets. Be a good girl and play nice."

  She glared up at him. "What do you want from me?"

  He clicked the manacle on her other wrist. "From you? Nothing. I just want the sizable bounty on your head. Beckett's loss is my gain for once, and I aim to cash in."

  He looked at Mateo. "What do you say, kid? I can use a partner who can hold his own in a fight. Your mechanical skills will come in handy too. Say the word, and you're in the Nimrod business. You get a third of anything we bring in."

  Mateo tilted his head. "Why a third? Why not fifty-fifty?"

  "I got another partner back in the rig. We all take a third."

  "What about Rex? Can't just leave him like this."

  "I'll make the call to the authorities. They'll alert his next of kin if he has any, and take care of the burial. And they'll put a bounty out on Beckett's head. He'll be running for the rest of his rotten life. Nothing else we can do. You in or you out?"

  Mateo glanced around. The place was unrecognizable–just a skeleton ripe for burial. There wasn’t anything to hang around for. And he couldn't afford to have anyone asking questions about him.

  He knelt, fingering Beckett's abandoned cyber-suit. "Yeah. Count me in."

  Chapter 3

  General Kirk Hamilton followed the trail of dead and dying bodies. His long, navy-blue overcoat stopped just short of his boot heels, avoiding the trails of blood spattered on the floor. He was grateful for that small comfort. Getting blood out of fabric was a nightmare.

  The compound was small, just two stories and a basement. It wasn't meant to be conspicuous, not meant to attract attention at all. That was the point. No one could guess the mine of sensitive information protected by a full detail of two squads of Special Forces soldiers. No one but Kirk.

  After all, he was the one that suggested the location in the first place.

  He sighed. This is the point of no return. No looking back now.

  The five-man team that followed him through the corridors were Blood Legion veterans. They still proudly wore the crimson uniforms of their original units. Bonded by brotherhood and shared trauma from fighting in the Red War and surviving it. True patriot
s, like himself. Used and discarded, like himself. Left with PTSD, unanswered questions, neglect, disillusionment, and quietly simmering rage.

  Like himself.

  He collected his New Legion from all corners of the fractured nation. Men and women trying unsuccessfully at assimilating into new lives across the United Havens. Members of mercenary teams and private military corporations. Running security firms or wasting themselves in bars and strip clubs. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was their willingness to join the cause. He started with the goal of recruiting one hundred soldiers. He wound up with more than five hundred.

  But one particular soldier meant more than the rest combined.

  Rounding the corner, he stopped at the doorway of the server room. A man stood inside. Tall, dark-skinned. Body armor protected his torso, but his heavily muscled arms were left bare as if getting shot anywhere but his chest was inconsequential. Clean-cut, chiseled jaw, eyes covered by aviator shades that he rarely removed. His close-cropped hair was shock-white, but he wasn't old. At least Kirk didn't think so. He knew very little about Beowulf Kilgore, even after the man served under him for ten years. No one did.

  Kirk cleared his throat, hating the unease he felt in Kilgore's presence. He made sure his voice was authoritative when he spoke. "Did you have to kill everyone?"

  Kilgore raised his head. The entire room reflected off the mirrored surface of his shades, including Kirk's gruff face.

  "If you wanted to leave people alive, you should have sent them in first." Kilgore jerked a thumb at the New Legion squad.

  "Yes, well…" Kirk trailed off, realizing he had no handy retort. He knew the squad would have sustained fatalities had they been sent in first. And they might not have taken the compound at all. "The servers weren't damaged?"

  "They tried to scrub the system. I handled it." Kilgore tilted his head at the bodies carelessly tossed in the corner of the room.