Freelancers: Falcon & Phoenix

F
reelancers
: Falcon & Phoenix - Copyright 2016 Chad Thackston

W
ith the exception
of quotes in reviews, this book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or used in whole or part by any means without the written permission of the author (
[email protected]
)

A
ll rights reserved
. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, with or without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.00.

T
his book is
a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons-living or dead-or places, events, or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

C
over design Copyright
2016 Chad Thackston.

F
alcon revs
the engine to distance himself as fast as he can from his recent assailant. He checks the driver side mirror and watches as she grows smaller the farther away he gets. In a world like this, surviving is the only constant. Friends are a luxury that only the lucky really get. But something about this encounter gnaws at him.

He eases off the accelerator.
She’s just doing her job,
he thinks.

“So were a lot of others,” he refutes himself as he slams his boot on the brake. He throws the car in reverse and turns around to watch the road as he drives the car back toward the woman who almost had the upper hand on him. That near success alone makes her deserving of, at least, a ride to the nearest town. Too bad that town isn’t a place in which he’s welcome.

The woman walks hesitantly toward the car as its rear end pulls up alongside her. Falcon holds the gun just inside of the window. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous, today.”

“This is your idea of generous?” She watches his trigger finger for the slightest hint that he might fire. “You’re making my job a lot harder than it usually is.”

“That’s why I came back. Call it a temporary truce. Just until you're in the next town. Get in.”

“Don’t do me any favors. If you didn’t have the gun—”

“But I do. You want a ride or not?”

The woman takes one more moment to weigh her options. She looks around at the empty road. It’s too far to walk to any kind of civilization and who knows what surprises might be on the road without a car. That and he’s got her gun. There really isn’t much choice. She starts to walk around the back of the car.

“Uh-uh.” He indicates that she walk around the front. “You don’t look like you’ve got anything on you but I want to be sure.”

She does as he tells her and cautiously walks around the front. The two keep their eyes locked on one another as she steps around the front of the car.

The passenger door opens with a creak. It’s nothing a little lubricating spray couldn’t fix. If such a thing were easy to come by. Or if such a thing still exists in this world. She slowly lowers herself into the passenger seat.

Falcon switches the gun to his left hand, keeping it as far away from her as he can. “Try to enjoy the ride.”

Her eyes scan the interior of the vehicle. It feels strange from this perspective. “I’m not usually a passenger in my own car.”

“You won’t have to worry about it for too long,” he says as he puts the car in drive and quickly accelerates down the empty road.

The woman keeps her eyes on him and the gun. There is no trust inside of the vehicle from either of them. His only safety from her is the gun in his hand and his willingness to use it. Her only assurance that he won’t use it is that he didn’t leave her on the road alone. Neither of those feelings bring much comfort to these sudden adversaries.

“What’s your name?” Falcon asks her.

“Why?”

“You have a contract on me. You almost had me. I’d like to know the name of the Freelancer that got that close.”

“Not close enough, apparently.”

“Even so. What do they call you?”

She turns her attention to the road in front of them. “Phoenix.”

Falcon glances at her. “Phoenix? You give yourself that name?”

“You give yourself the name Falcon?” she shoots back.

He almost smiles at her remark. “Ok, Phoenix. Who gave you the contract on me?”

“Does it matter? I have it. And I’m going to make good on it.”

Falcon looks at her, shocked by her confidence. A small part of him believes her. Judging by the way things were going before he commandeered her car, she might very well make good on it. He just has to make it to the next town. Of course, once she’s back in the rearview mirror, he’ll have other problems to worry about.

“You must be pretty sure of yourself,” he says, trying to underplay her confidence.

“My track record speaks for itself.” She keeps her eyes on the road.

Falcon looks at her one more time. He holds his stare longer than he should at this speed. But long gone are the days where traffic would be a concern. Wreckage and twisted metal from other vehicles, maybe. Fortunately for both of them, this particular road is not widely used. Even in the old world, the narrow farm and county roads weren’t heavily travelled.

He narrows his eyes as a small, almost imperceptible twitch moves just under Phoenix’s eye. “Don’t.”

She lunges for the wheel and pulls it to toward her. The jerk is so fast that it turns the speeding car too sharply. The back end swings around and the passenger side lifts off the road before the car rolls over into the grass field beside it.

The metal body bends and dents with each impact to its sides and roof. Despite the method of the car’s sudden departure from the road, Falcon and Phoenix still battle each other for control of the steering wheel. It is a fruitless endeavor as the two are jostled within the wreck of a car in progress.

The rolling finally stops and the mangled car rests on its roof, gently rocking up and down. Falcon’s hand juts out from the driver side window. He grips a hand full of grass and pulls himself out of the wreck. Weak legs wobble upright before stumbling and carrying Falcon back against the car. His hand goes to his head as he tries to mentally force the world to stop spinning. Once his vision reorients and he no longer feels like he’s on a boat, he takes a few steps forward. He doesn’t get very far before his head suddenly meets the ground. Falcon turns back to see Phoenix gripping his ankle. He kicks at her, trying to force her to let go but his weak legs don’t allow for much force.

A black, metallic object lies in the grass. Phoenix notices it first. Falcon stops kicking and looks at the object, too. Mere yards away, the gun lay on the ground.

Falcon looks back at her again only to see she's already halfway out of the car. He scrambles on the ground trying to get to it before her. His hand lands on the black handle just as her knee lands on his back. The blunt force knocks some of the air from his lungs.

“Don’t,” she says as a strange click sounds off right by his ear. The sudden chill of cold metal against his throat prevents him from getting a grip on the gun.

Phoenix puts a hand around his forehead and lifts his head up from the ground. She presses a box cutter against his jugular. “Take your hand off it.”

Falcon does as he’s told and slowly brings his hand away from the gun. “You know I’m worth a lot less dead.”

“It’s still more than enough.” She reaches for the gun, keeping pressure on his back. Once the firearm is in her hand, she leaps off him. “Now get up.”

He does as he’s ordered and turns around to see the box cutter. A feeling of embarrassment comes over him. It would be fine if it was a proper knife or dagger. Even a kitchen knife would be reasonable. But a box cutter? This isn’t a story he wants told to the world.

She puts the cutter away and places her free hand on her throat. He mirrors her and feels something slick. Pulling his hand away reveals a small streak of blood on his hand.

“That’s how close you were,” she tells him.

Falcon nods his head in understanding. If there was any doubt of her seriousness, it’s long gone. His expression slowly shifts to a furrowed brow as he starts sniffing the air. The scent suddenly hits her nostrils as well. Phoenix eyes go wide as Falcon rushes farther into the field. She follows as fast as she can.

The delayed explosion from the car slams her forward. She hits the ground and rolls to her back. With little concern about flying shrapnel, Phoenix darts to her feet and immediately looks around for Falcon. She spins to see him slowly standing up.

“Well that’s just great,” he says as he looks at the burning wreckage. A tire falls to the ground between them. They both look at it then up at the sky for any other falling debris.

“This is your fault.” She points the gun back at him.

“I didn’t make the car flip. That was you.”

“If you hadn’t
taken
my car, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“That makes a lot of sense. Me just letting you take me. I’ll keep that in mind next time we’re in a car.”

Phoenix looks back at the road. “Speaking of,” she says as a bus heads in their direction. She takes one more look back at her ruined car then at the approaching bus. “It’s not ideal but it will do. Go to the road.” She motions for Falcon to move.

“I’m not getting on there. Do you know where we are?”

“Yeah. The Asian Empire.”

“You say that like it’s not a bad thing.”

“It’s not for me. I have political amnesty, here.”

Falcon looks at the bus as it slows the closer it gets. “Well I don’t. There’s a lot of people who want me gone, here. That bus is probably full of them.”

“I have the gun so you should feel much better about your circumstances.”

“I’m warning you.”

“And I’m warning you. Now move,” she orders one more time.

F
alcon stands
at the front of the bus, scanning the occupants in the seats and looking for anyone or anything that might be a threat to him. Most of the people pay him no mind as they just stare ahead. Others look out their windows at the burning remnants of Phoenix’s car sitting in the field. Some of the grass around it has caught fire. Just one more disaster to add to the ruined world. Not worth giving too much thought to but like moths to a flame, some of the bus riders can’t help but stare at the dancing fires.

“Take a seat.” Phoenix pushes Falcon forward. She keeps the gun close to her own body to minimize panic from anyone who might see it.

Falcon slowly makes his way down the center aisle of the bus. His eyes dart back and forth among the various occupants, watching for any sudden movements. He glances at their hands to see what they might be holding. Most of the people look to be market sellers as they grip their wares to their chests. Plates, homemade wooden children’s toys and crafts of various design. A few of the people have their arms around bags full of what looks like clothing.

The bus lurches forward, making Falcon and Phoenix shake in the aisle. “Sit down,” one of the occupants demands as though the two Anglo looking people were making him nervous.

“You heard the man,” Phoenix says.

Falcon picks up his pace toward the back of the bus. Two men stare at him. They both wear suits except that one has no sleeves and the other has one sleeve. His other arm is covered only by an elbow pad and a fingerless glove. Falcon watches as the man with one sleeve leans closer to the other and whispers something. Neither take their eyes off Falcon. As he and Phoenix pass, the man with no sleeves slowly nods his head as though he understands and agrees.

“Take the window,” Phoenix orders.

Falcon does as he’s told. He sits down and glances back at the suspicious looking men. “Watch those two.”

Phoenix follows the direction of Falcon's stare as she sits next to him, gun in his side. “You should be worried about me.”

“Just watch them. I think they recognize me,” he whispers.

“So what.” Phoenix looks straight ahead.

Falcon looks out the window at the passing field. A small farmhouse sits alone, far from the road. There was a time when that house had been occupied. He wonders if the family that lived there was killed in the war or if they survived and now live in one of the other nations. There’s no way to know.

“Looks like you’re in a unique position,” he tells Phoenix. “You’re gonna have to worry about a lot more than me trying to get away.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean there are other methods where you can lose a contract. Ever heard of appropriation?”

Phoenix looks at Falcon, waiting for him to elaborate. He turns his head to face her then moves his eyes to the suspicious men, nodding his head, very subtly, in their direction. Phoenix turns to see both men staring at them.

“Can I help you?” she asks them.

The men smile at her before turning back to the front. The man with one sleeve leans toward his partner again and whispers in his ear, glancing again at Falcon as he does so. The man with no sleeves nods and stands up. He looks down at Phoenix before turning around to face the luggage rack. Phoenix watches him reach up and grab a small suitcase. He opens it but she can’t see what he takes out. He turns back to face her and walks beside her seat.

“Excuse me. I was just wondering if I could get your autograph. It’s not every day one gets to meet the woman who saved the Emperor.” The man hands her a pen and a notepad.

She looks at the sleeveless man, slightly confused but more honored as she takes the items to sign.

“Thank you. I’m glad to do it.” She turns to Falcon. “Don’t try anything. I only need one hand to do this.” She gently pushes the gun into his side.

“Look out.” Falcon’s hand bursts in front of her, grabbing the man’s wrist. A knife shakes just inches from Phoenix’s eye. The man tries to press it forward but Falcon grabs on with his other hand, boxing Phoenix between his arms and the two men.

The man with one sleeve jumps out of his seat to join his partner. Phoenix kicks between the knife wielder’s legs, instantly making him drop to the bus floor. She swings her gun forward but the single sleeved man grabs it and twists it out of her hands. He immediately turns the weapon on Falcon who vaults above the seat in front of them. With one arm on the back rest and the other grabbing the luggage rack, Falcon swings his legs at the gun toting man before he has a chance to fire.

Phoenix moves out of the cramped space of the bus seat and squares up with the knife wielder. She takes out her box cutter but her opponent changes his blade for a much larger hunting knife. He swings down at her. She manages to block the attack with her arm guard. The knife cuts the cloth, revealing the foam padding underneath. It won’t take many more slashes like that.

With his weapon below them and out of the way, Phoenix goes on the offensive. She slashes across with the box cutter and finds her mark, cutting the man’s forehead. It’s not a very deep cut but it does the job as a stream of blood runs down her opponent’s face and into his eyes, obscuring his vision. The man wipes at his eyes and swings the knife, wildly, in front of him. Frightened by the sudden fight, the other occupants slide as close to the windows as possible, desperately trying to avoid being cut by the chaotic slashes.

Falcon steps backwards toward the front of the bus. His opponent teases him by waving the gun back and forth. A menacing smile creeps across his face. “You shouldn’t have come back here, Anglo.”

“I’m a Freelancer.”

“That’s even worse. Either way, you were banned. The Emperor will reward us for carrying out the dishonor sentence.”

Falcon takes one more step back. He looks past the gun wielder to see Phoenix having a hard time getting in close from the wild knife swings. He places his hand on the back of a seat and his palm touches something hard. Without knowing what it is, he picks up the item and throws it toward the man with the gun. The attacker ducks and the crystal plate hits his knife wielding partner, shattering on the back of his head. The gun man turns around to see his partner lumber forward, blood darkening the collar of his suit. The gun man quickly turns his attention back to Falcon only to see the bottom of two boots filling his vision. Falcon's kick sends him stumbling backwards. He would surely hit the bus floor if not for colliding into his partner who keeps him upright and on his feet.

Phoenix blocks the knife arm hurtling toward her as her assailant stumbles forward from the impact of his partner. She swings her box cutter down and slashes the man’s leg, dropping him to one knee.

Falcon rushes forward and barrels into the off-balance gun man, knocking the gun out of the man’s hand and sending him off his feet. The one sleeved man is sent backwards and over his partner. Phoenix spins out of the way as the airborne attacker passes by, crashing through the back door of the bus. He grabs on to the door, his legs dangling just above the speeding road. His grip loosens and he slides down to grab the door handle, desperately trying to keep from losing his grip as his legs and feet are dragged across the cement. His pants are getting frayed and shredded in the process.

Phoenix returns to her own opponent and kicks the sleeveless man in the stomach, sending him toward the front of the bus. He continues slashing at the air, swiping the blade uncomfortably close to more scared bus occupants. Phoenix moves forward and catches his wrist. She slams it against the top of one of the back rests, forcing him to loosen his grip. The knife falls to the floor, narrowly missing the feet of an innocent bus rider. With a good grip on his wrist, Phoenix twists her body around and flips the man over and onto his back.

Falcon vaults over her and rushes to the open rear door. The door dangling attacker has managed to get one foot back onto the floor of the bus. Falcon kicks at the door, sending it and the one sleeved man swinging back out. Falcon grabs the overhead luggage rack for support and he reaches out for the man’s hand, trying to pry his fingers off of the handle. But the assailant is stubborn and just before his fingers have nearly released the handle, the man quickly switches his grip and grabs Falcon’s wrist, pulling him out of the bus.

“No.” Phoenix watches as Falcon disappears out of the rear door. She moves quickly to the opening and sees Falcon holding onto the man’s belt as both of them are dragged along the road. The assailant kicks his legs, trying to shake Falcon off of him. Despite that, Falcon makes his way up to the handle of the door by climbing on the man.

He finally gets a grip on the rear door handle, right on top of his would-be assassin. The two go to trading blows with one another while dangling from the bus door. Both doing whatever they can to cause the other to lose their grip. Neither gaining much ground in the process.

Phoenix turns back to the sleeveless man and let’s out an exasperated sigh as her opponent begins to sit up. She sees the gun under one of the bus seats. Unfortunately, he notices it, too, and they both dive for the weapon. His hand hits it first but that only serves to knock it farther under the seat. Phoenix reaches for it while the man tries to pull her arm away. Like Falcon and the one sleeved man, the two go to trading blows. Phoenix is faster and manages to deliver a flurry of punches to his already injured head. Her last one finds his throat as a target. The man’s hands instinctively wrap around his neck as he gasps for air.

Phoenix reaches for the gun and grabs it. She bolts to her feet and heads back to the open door. There’s no time to wait as Falcon seems to quickly be losing ground against the dangling assassin. She aims the gun at Falcon’s opponent and pulls the trigger. The bullet hits his shoulder and the one sleeved man releases the handle and falls to the rushing pavement below.

Falcon watches as the man rolls to the road, getting smaller as the bus travels onward. He looks up at Phoenix who reaches her hand out to him. He takes it and she pulls him back into the bus.

Oxygen fills the sleeveless man’s lungs as he regains his ability to breathe. He watches Phoenix assist Falcon back into the bus before looking around for a weapon. A glint of metal catches his eye as light reflects off of the hunting knife under the seat. He crawls to the weapon and draws it back out. Re-armed, the man rises to his feet just as Falcon is almost back on the bus. He pulls out his other knife and, with her back facing him, dashes toward Phoenix.

“Move.” Falcon pushes her to the side on top of two other passengers just in time for both knives to come down and hit nothing but air. With no target to sink his attack, the knife wielder’s momentum carries him, stumbling, forward. Falcon helps with the transition by tripping the man. One again, the back door bursts out, along with the last of the attackers. Falcon reaches out and grabs the man’s wrist. He maintains a hold while the knife wielder’s legs try to find footing on ground, rushing underneath them.

Using the wall of the bus to keep himself from falling back out, Falcon holds the attacker far enough from the bus that he can’t grab hold of anything to climb back on. “How does the Emperor know I’m here?”

The man looks down at the concrete as it blurs beneath him.

“Tell me!” Falcon jerks his arm in a move meant to threaten.

“Just doing my patriotic duty.” The man smiles.

“Patriotic—” The knife blade swipes at Falcon’s arm before he can finish the sentence. The quick move surprises him and forces Falcon to release the man. He watches him fall to the road and roll to a stop as the bus speeds away.

Phoenix watches Falcon stand in the doorway. He looks out at the open air then down at the speeding road. “Just tuck and roll,” he mutters.

“Step back from the door,” she tells him.

“I warned you,” he fires back.

“Falcon?”

“What if I jump?”

She raises the gun. “You’re worth more alive. But even dead, the contract is fulfilled. And I can live with that.”