Outlaws and Origins

by Eric S Kim

  1:11 PM

  The game began. The Anaheim Stingrays began their fight against the Sacramento Sabers. The players made their first moves on the ice rink. The audience cheered as they anticipated a triumphant victory for their home team. Men, women, and children had kept their eyes on the center of the arena, with barely any attention given to the law enforcement officers that surveyed the building. The Blackjack Troopers spent their time examining the spectators. They were careful with their intentions. They left their assault rifles and machine guns back in the NESF station to help ease the anxiety among the audience. The Blackjacks were basically left with only their pistols in holsters, though those who brought their shotguns had kept them safe in the scabbards behind their backs. But it didn’t matter to the civilians, who had no time to worry about the confidential information kept away from their senses. Watching an intense rivalry unfold on the ice rink was their primary goal and nothing else.

  The entire arena would have erupted in a loud applause, but the Anaheim Stingrays failed to score a goal thanks to the goalie who stopped the puck just in time. The spectators continued to keep their eyes on the game. Preston Hatchett, however, had to keep his eyes away from the rink as it would only serve as a big distraction. The young Blackjack made certain that he stayed quiet and at least partially hidden from the spectators. He stood alone at one of the open entryways near the seats. He was lucky to have such a near-panoramic view.

  Preston kept his black baseball cap on for the passersby to notice. The department’s signature insignia had been imprinted as the embroidery. This would give the civilians a clear sign that they would be protected at all costs during the game. Most of those who walked right past him didn’t say a word and minded their own business. A young woman and two middle-aged men did give him a thumbs-up as they gave him a smile. Preston smiled back. Their five-star reviews matched their current gratitude.

  The nineteen-year-old Blackjack began to use his binoculars. He examined the left side of the arena for a few moments. He paid close attention to the spectators sitting at the front and the back. He pointed his binoculars at random civilians. So far, the men and women who cheered their home team didn’t match the appearance of the two Failures in the photo. Preston changed direction and focused on the right side of the arena. Every random individual that he laid eyes on had lacked any familiar features on their faces.

  Right on the other side of the arena, from where Preston stood, was another Blackjack Trooper doing the exact same thing that he did. He instantly recognized her by her sleeveless turtleneck. Victoria Hernandez, a thirty-two-year-old Bolivian woman, kept her presence minimal as she also stood by one of the narrow entryways. She seemed silent, keeping her composure unbroken by the enthusiasm of the crowd while using her binoculars to examine their faces. Even as a teenage boy took a picture of her with his smartphone, she didn’t see any offense and ignored him. Professionalism stayed as the key, and she denied any distractions that headed her way.

  Preston didn’t stop using his own binoculars just yet. He received a clearer view of the luxury suites situated underneath the top balcony. Only VIPs would afford them, including the CEO of Mystic Lightning. Preston spotted Virgil Hamilton right away. The man had taken a seat from behind the window, his bodyguard standing in the corner watching the game with him. Hamilton appeared comfortable in this environment. He didn’t need to wear a suit in a place like this. He laughed and clapped his hands just as one of the Stingrays blocked an incoming puck away from the net. Preston didn’t blame him. He himself would have done the same if today had been his day off.

  The luxury suite next door also caught Preston’s attention. A Colombian woman had brought her brand new employee with her for the game. Maribelle Sepulveda had also dressed casually for this occasion. She usually had the correct look for a significant career. This time, she wore a black blouse and a pair of white pants. Even with casual clothing, her natural beauty still showed through. At forty-two years of age, her looks still didn’t fade. She was a beautiful woman, a willowy brunette who deserved the luxury that she worked hard for.

  Joseph Armstrong, her nineteen-year-old employee, was seated alongside her. He didn’t have a smile on his face. He seemed a little confused, like a man who didn’t see the logic in a competitive sport such as this.

  Preston just had to feel amused at Joseph’s expression. Even as Sepulveda presumably taught him the rules and regulations of hockey with basic vocabulary, Joseph gave a slight nod but kept his puzzled look unbroken by fun facts. Preston chuckled at the sight. He knew how unfamiliar hockey would be to a person who originated from the Dead Zone. At first, this would seem to be the subject of a joke. But Preston, who remembered how Joseph was captured by Squad A-X-9 and forced to cooperate with law enforcement, could only hope for a more fortunate outcome in Joseph’s future.

  At this time, Sepulveda handed Joseph what looked to have been a can of soda. Joseph gladly took it and drank from it. Sepulveda only had a smile to demonstrate her optimistic tendencies. Preston remembered her words, and remained confident that she would achieve yet another highlight in her career. If Joseph was smart enough to become a permanent civilian and help her tame her wild animals, then the world would gain another fortunate soul eager for every known enemy to vanish from the earth.

  Preston lowered his binoculars and smiled at an elderly passerby who congratulated him for his success in the desert. Just as the old man walked right past him, another had come up from behind and tapped him on the shoulder. Preston turned around and asked his twenty-year-old teammate if he had seen anything interesting backstage. Bryce Etheridge, who currently wore his black and gray varsity jacket, only provided minor details with what he had seen in the past several minutes.

  Preston took off his baseball cap and straightened his blond hair. “I think I should just watch the game after all. I mean, I’m not sure how these two Failures can outsmart the security guards in this place. They’d be completely nuts.”

  Bryce kept his voice low to avoid any distractions for the spectators. “Hey, don’t underestimate these type of people. They’re not that dumb. They really know how to get what they want. Hawkins and Singletary proved it.”

  “Still, it would have been nice to look after the CEO in his own home.”

  Then, Preston showed off his mild sarcasm. “But no, he doesn’t want to waste his ticket for tonight’s game. He’d give us a pay cut if we didn’t follow his instructions. And he meant it, too. Fortunately, I’m not afraid.”

  “Of course, you’d be the only one who wouldn’t be.”

  Preston cleared his throat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”

  Bryce waved it off. “I can’t really judge you for being blasé about it. I’d feel the same way if my parents were as rich as yours. Thought it does kinda suck that you’re driving a luxury car to work. It’s like you’re just showing off.”

  Preston stifled a little laugh. “All you have to do is look away.”

  The audience almost cheered when the Stingrays attempted to steal the puck away from their rivals.

  Preston smiled. “Ah, man. Hamilton’s got to act like an asshole. He should see this game on TV. It’ll save us the trouble of having to do the dirty work.”

  Bryce replied, “Well, everyone has a hobby that they’d never say ‘no’ to. I don’t think you should separate Mr. Hamilton from hockey. It’s not worth your life. I bet he’d send us to Alaska if we said something about it.”

  Preston chuckled. “My dad told me that once. I thought he tried to make a joke with that.”

  Bryce brought out his own pair of binoculars. “Anyway, I’ll take over from here. Go ahead and join the others in the lobby.”

  “Got it.”

  1:43 PM

  Lionel would see the inside of Hamilton’s luxury suite for the remainder of the game. He sat down beside the CEO, acting as the man’s other protector beside his bodyguard. From right outside the suite, Hector Conroy guarded the open doorw
ay in the back with his Mossberg shotgun ready for use. The thirty-five-year-old Blackjack never steered away from his occupation. His vigilant eyes gave him the appearance of a silent assassin, a man who would perform his tasks without any interruptions whatsoever. He stood in the hallway and never attempted to disappear from the scene.

  Lionel kept silent. When Hamilton either laughed at the Sabers’ misfortune or stood up and cheered when the Stingrays scored a goal, Lionel sat still as he surveyed the crowd on the other side of the window. He couldn’t complain about the atmosphere, however. The luxury suite had been decorated with some fine lavish furniture, complete with brand new carpeting after the renovation from last year. The leather sofas and dark wooden tables had also been replaced with newer models, and the flat-screen TV hanging on the wall had grown bigger since its replacement.

  But the upgrades didn’t stop Lionel from doing his job. Even as he fully supported his home team, he decided not to give in to his temptation and kept Hamilton safe. Hamilton, in the meantime, enjoyed himself with a warm plate of fried chicken strips and onion rings. He snickered at the Sabers as he bit down on his lunch.

  “It’s like they want their lousiness to be their selling point. Bunch of dipshits.”

  Lionel just nodded. He had no intention of saying anything to his boss, unless the latter prompted him to respond.

  Just after consuming one of the onion rings dipped in barbecue sauce, Hamilton finally asked, “Are you having a good time there?”

  Lionel replied, “I really shouldn’t.”

  Hamilton wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Don’t act like you’re being a heretic. I know how much you and your team love the Stingrays.”

  “It’s true, but I still have a job to do. It’s your decision to keep us grounded in reality, and we accepted it.”

  “You’re right. But I won’t stop you if you at least give the Sabers the middle finger once in your life.”

  “It is enticing.”

  Hamilton seemed impressed with Lionel’s stoic behavior. He chomped on another chicken strip as the spectators in the arena began to sing a short chant associated with the Stingrays. Nearly everyone joined in and expressed their lifelong passion for hockey.

  Hamilton wasn’t one of them, however. He kept his eyes on the ice rink when he asked Lionel, “Did you sign it?”

  Lionel already understood. “Yes, I did.”

  “What about the other thirteen troopers?”

  “Most of them did. The rest will sign it eventually.”

  “You better remind them how important it would be to be a part of Mr. Quintana’s militia.”

  “They’re just a little worried that they might have to leave Mystic Lightning altogether.”

  A small but conniving smile formed on Hamilton’s face. “I hope they’re only acting like complete idiots. Nobody is leaving the company. They’re just receiving a really special promotion by joining the highest rank possible.”

  “To be quite honest, sir, I don’t blame them for being a little suspicious.”

  “Be more specific.”

  “None of us are informed of what these types of missions will be.”

  “I did tell you once before. You know. Obeying Mr. Quintana’s commands. Protecting the people by being a little more inconspicuous than usual. Traveling all across the country, and maybe even the entire world.”

  Lionel never let his tranquil nature subside. “Judging by the basic descriptions, the Navy SEALs had a better chance at being discreet.”

  Hamilton slowly dipped his chicken strip in the barbecue sauce. “You would even dare to mention the SEALs?”

  Lionel made an attempt at hiding his true feelings toward the once-beloved special forces unit. “Yes, it’s true that they shouldn’t have betrayed our world leader like that. But we can’t deny their expertise. They did everything right.”

  Hamilton didn’t say anything for a few seconds before he managed to say, “Well, Mr. Quintana has no intention of bringing back the Navy SEALs. You may not like it, but there’s no choice in recovering a reputation that’s been tarnished.”

  Lionel slowly breathed through his nostrils. “Regardless, my teammates need to be fully aware of the precautions. If we are to be chosen by Mr. Quintana, then it would be a good idea to give us the complete details before it happens.”

  Hamilton ignored the growing applause by the Stingray fans and said to Lionel, “Before I handed you that portfolio two days ago, I had a little chat with Mr. Quintana. I asked him everything about his current objectives. So far, he only provided some very minimal details. He did indeed tell me that some of these missions will be strictly confidential. The press won’t know about it. The employees in my company won’t know about it. Even I can’t get complete access to what needs to be known.”

  Lionel leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin. With a man like Salvador Quintana ruling over the state of California, uncertainties wouldn’t even be possible. The people of California received a welcome improvement all across the land since the Argentinian man took office. His approval ratings remained high on the charts, and his reputation had rarely experienced any misgivings. With only a handful of men and women governing the state since the creation of their supreme world leader, Quintana proved to be the most accomplished. His reign as the California Chairman made Lionel and his teammates proud of their home and their overall purpose in the world.

  Hamilton whispered, “Don’t even try to give him the wrong answer. This is a big opportunity, and your teammates should be brave enough to take it. I don’t want people to think that the Blackjack Department have hired a bunch of pussies. Your teammates wouldn’t want to stay in the same place at the same time, do they? Wouldn’t they be the ones who yearn for a trip to Idaho, or even the Bahamas?”

  Hamilton made a small gesture with his fingers as if signifying the presence of money. “And of course, you’ll be astonished by the salary. It’s some damn good stuff right here.”

  Lionel replied, “You don’t have to encourage me. I already said that I’ve signed it.”

  “I expect to take back that portfolio soon. I’m very proud of everyone in A-X-9. You guys kicked some major ass last week, and I do hope that you’ll continue to do so in other parts of the country.”

  “All I have to do is reassure the rest of my squad, and your wish will be granted.”

  Hamilton’s smile grew even bigger. “I’m eagerly awaiting it.”

  1:58 PM

  With each Blackjack taking turns in different positions of the arena, Preston had to remember the exact time and place of where he would be next. Now, he became one of the substitutes for Kurt Nguyen and Oswald Tomlinson, both of whom kept a close watch at the concession stands for the last thirty minutes. Preston tipped his cap to give the signal. The other two Blackjacks immediately departed from the area.

  Preston wouldn’t be alone for his next turn. Elliott Hashimoto joined him at the concession stands. The young Japanese Blackjack had kept his gray sleeveless zip up hoodie on, and kept his next role undisturbed. Both he and Preston had gathered near a corner. They examined the crowd that already formed in front of the concession stands. So far, none of the civilians matched the two Failures’ facial features. The complete lack of danger brought his concentration to a temporary standstill. He acknowledged his perspective as a more tedious routine, to the point that he hoped both Failures would eventually come out of hiding and give him the opportunity to be the hero of the day.

  Elliott pointed his finger at somebody and whispered to Preston, “Hey, look who’s here.”

  Preston could already see who he was pointing at. Sepulveda had taken Joseph to the concession stand and now stood in the center of a slowly growing line. The former Failure remained attentive to what she would say to him at all times. He may have appeared to be nervous, but he didn’t show off any sign of a vulnerable state. Sepulveda informed him of something that Preston couldn’t hear from a far distance.

  Then, when Jose
ph caught sight of the two Blackjacks keeping a sharp lookout, he gave a slight nod. Preston gave a smile before Joseph returned to his civil discussion with his boss and mentor.

  Elliott leaned against the wall. “He’s been learning a lot, I hope.”

  Preston repeated his repetitive examination of the crowd before he gave up and said, “I’m sure the guys at Social Adjustments are doing a good job with him.”

  A smile formed on Elliott’s face. “Yeah. If they can give me a better life, then they’ll do the same for him.”

  After the purchase, Joseph and Sepulveda collected their snacks and left the concession stand together. Their intended path led them to where the two young Blackjacks stood silently. Sepulveda already noticed them.

  She stopped and asked, “Enjoying yourselves?”

  Preston replied, “We’re just doing our jobs, ma’am.”

  Elliott’s enthusiasm made a steady return as he gave a light punch to Joseph’s shoulder. “It’s great to see you again, man.”

  Joseph appreciated the gesture. “I’m glad to see some familiar faces for a change.”

  Sepulveda let him express his true self, albeit briefly. She checked something on her smartphone for a few seconds before putting it away again.

  “I can do nothing but congratulate you and your entire squad. Without you, I would never have the chance to give Joseph what he deserves. A life beyond the Dead Zone is the perfect way to redeem himself.”

  The compliment made Preston feel pleased with his career choice. “Hey, we do what we can. We’re professionals after all.”

  “That’s good. Well, good luck with whatever you’re supposed to do. If you do find who you’re looking for, then I will hope for a promotion on your part.”