Past

Allen glared at Frost, revolver still in hand.

Frost stared at Allen, eyes wide.

A bullet hole in the desk smoked lightly next to his ear.

Allen suddenly turned and threw the revolver at the vanity, watching the dozens of reflective glass shards crash to the floor. He prayed for a moment that the thing he’d seen in the mirror had died with it, his heart sinking as said thing reappeared and began laughing at his stupidity. The laughter grew more intense, its owner nonexistent yet all too real to him.

Frost appeared out of nowhere and joined the shadow in its maniacal laughter, his wounds nonexistent. Their combined laughter slowly grew in volume until he was holding his ears in a vain attempt to restore silence. It continued to grow until he felt his mind would break in two, and he silently begged for them to leave him alone.

“…stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it…” he mumbled.

His double approached him instead, Frost somehow laughing loud enough for the both of them. It knelt down and placed a hand on his shoulder, causing him to shudder violently at its ice-cold touch.

“I didn’t start this, pal.” it said. “You did.”

It was right. He hadn’t been forced to answer that phone, or accept Admin’s offer. He hadn’t been forced to do what he did to all those people. He hadn’t been forced to become what he had. He’d done it all willingly.

He felt his memory being forced back to the edge of Hoover dam and the distant wet smack that accompanied the memory. Back to the factory where he’d incinerated Vince and Maya after shooting them both. Back to the hydraulic press “accident”, the man’s pained screams just before his grotesque demise clear as day in his ears.

Back to his house, immediately after the hit.

Logan cowered in a corner, arms over his face in an effort to protect himself from the madman that was his older brother. Allen tried to approach him, only for the boy to scream out in terror.

He backed up slowly, then began running downstairs. He reached the bottom and looked around, noticing his stepdad still against the wall. The older man glared at him with his one good eye, Allen once more feeling as though the man was staring into his soul. His mother bawled her eyes out by the counter, her entire body covered in blood.

“Please…just leave me alone.” Allen begged quietly. The guilt he felt was building to almost toxic levels, threatening to overwhelm and mutate his mind into something even more painful.

“Alone? I don’t think so.” his father replied with a demonic chuckle. “No…you and me? We’re going to be spending a lot of time together, buddy.”

“…no, no, no, no, no…” he whimpered, tears beginning to flow down his cheeks.

“Shhhhhhh…just relax…” it cooed as he felt an icy chill crawl out of his chest, up his neck, and settle on the top of his head. “By the time I’m done, you won’t even remember any of this.”

The icy sensation on his head began to grow, slowly but steadily reaching deeper. It grew to the point where it burned like fire, melting away any resistance it encountered as it greedily began to devour his mind. The initial discomfort he’d felt was replaced by fear as he saw reality slipping away from him, the room he was in losing saturation and focus in equal amounts.

“Just relax. It’s almost over.” he heard from a distance.

Was he dying? Or was he going mad? Was there a difference? Did it matter?

These questions and more occupied the shrinking portion of consciousness still left to him, until fear and curiosity gave way to resignation and apathy.

“Good…that’s good…just re-”

“FLYNT!”

Allen bolted upright and scanned his surroundings in a panic, noticing that he’d somehow wound up in a sitting position by the foot of a door. Confused, he wondered for a moment where he was and why he was there, the previous nine months coming back to him as a mere trickle of memories. His eyes narrowed as he recognized his quarry slumped against the desk, still alive.

Before he could say anything, Frost cut him off. “Flynt, do you remember me?”

He raised an eyebrow, then scowled angrily at the other man. “Of course I do. You’re the asshole that killed my family.”

Frost simply nodded, as if that had been the answer he was expecting. Allen’s scowl deepened at the other man’s calm demeanor. No one with two knives buried in their torso should be that calm.

Actually, shouldn’t he be dead by now? he thought in confusion, noting that the red stain on the man’s dress shirt hadn’t grown any larger since he’d regained consciousness.

“Flynt, you need to listen to me. We don’t have a lot of time.” Frost said as he attempted to straighten up against the desk, stopping as he heard the revolver’s hammer click.

“I’m listening.” Allen said calmly.

The other man stared down the gun barrel for half a second, then sighed dismissively. “You don’t know it yet, but you’re in danger. I’m not sure if they’ve noticed yet…or if they’ve even thought to look for you…”

“Who?”

“Don’t interrupt.” he said sternly. “If…no…when they find out you’re still alive, they’ll come looking for you. There’ll be no place you can run or hide that they can’t reach, and eventually they’ll catch up to you.”

“Who? And what’s this got to with anything?” Allen growled.

“Everything! The reason we’re here is because they came after you!” Frost replied vehemently. “We thought they’d killed you, and we all scattered to different realms to make ourselves harder to find. We were all afraid they would come after us, and confused when they didn’t. Now I know why. They weren’t after us, just you.”

“Cut the mind games and get to the fucking point!” Allen yelled.

Frost sighed in exasperation. “You’ve played chess, right?”

Allen rolled his eyes, tempted to shoot the rambling lunatic and be done with it. Instead, he lowered the revolver and crossed his arms. “Yeah, a few times.”

“We’re all pieces in this game. Powerful pieces, mind you, but still only pieces to be collected by them to increase their power. You, however, are something else entirely. You-”

Distant shouting met their ears, Allen cautiously leaning out of the doorway to check the halls.

“They heard the shots.” Frost remarked dryly.

“No shit, Sherlock.” he replied with equal dryness.

“Listen to me.” the man said, straightening up against the desk. “You need to prepare. They’ll come for you soon, I know it. We need to be ready to fight them when they do.”

“Sorry…we?” Allen repeated as he aimed the gun once more, his opponent freezing once more. “You say that like you’re going to live that long.”

“I thought we were past this.”

“You would think that.” he said, taking a step toward Frost.

The older man opened his mouth to respond, but Allen shot him in the forehead first.

Huh. Well, shit. What did you need me for, am I right?

Allen froze, still staring at the slumped-over corpse of his nemesis.

Yeah, I’m still here. Now, though…I’m just kinda watching. It really is quite interesting to watch how far you’ve come from being the hilarious little street punk you were a year ago.

Who are you? he asked the voice.

I’m…your conscious.

Leave me alone.

Buddy, you just killed close to thirty people in the past few weeks alone. You can’t make me keep quiet about this.

SHUT UP! he thought as he ran out the door, away from the truth and away from the dead man on the floor by the desk.

((((((*******))))))

Present

“I SHOT YOU IN THE FACE POINT-BLANK!! HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE!?” Allen raged.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Frost replied calmly. “And before you ask how I was put in charge of the CIA, let’s chalk it up to bottomless pockets and sharing a likeness with the real Remus.”

Allen couldn’t even think properly. He’d shot him directly in the forehead from perhaps five feet away. Blood and brain matter had exploded from the front and back of his head. He had died instantly.

Supposedly.

“I…I can’t even…what the actual fuck!?”

“Take your time. I know it’s a lot to process.”

He thought for a second, then did the exact opposite and half-flew out of the windowless break room, leaving a very frightened and confused cashier wondering what mental defect he had.

“You’re isolating my signal, aren’t you!?”

“Maybe. You know, one way or another I’m catching both of you. If you make things easier on me, I’ll make them easier on you.”

“Oh, really?” he replied sarcastically as he pushed his way through the crowded mall.

“Give up now and no harm will come to your friends.”

“Bullshit.” Allen spat before turning off his radio, hopefully eliminating the man’s ability to track him.

He caught sight of the back entrance and began shoving and side-stepping his way towards it. He was only a few meters away when he noticed the two SUVs waiting for him outside. He turned back, considering leaving through the receiving area, and caught sight of the tops of perhaps a dozen shiny gray helmets.

How they’d escaped the chaos outside was beyond him, but the fact remained that the feds had him surrounded. He could hide in a nearby store, but more than likely that was what they’d expect from him and he really didn’t have that kind of time. Instead he drew his revolver.

“EVERYBODY OUT!!” he yelled as he squeezed a round off toward the ceiling.

The effect was instantaneous. Everybody in the mall ran screaming, trying to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the crazed gunman, pushing past or against the soldiers searching for him. Said soldiers scanned the crowd for any trace of their quarry, as did the SUV squads outside. Once the crowd thinned, they moved into the stores, searching behind counters and inside restrooms.

Allen, meanwhile ran away from the mall with the rest of the crowd, not stopping until he was sure they wouldn’t notice him.

That should keep the cops busy, at least. he thought as he put his hat back on, having removed it so that he the soldiers wouldn’t recognize him. He slowed to a jog, looking up and down the street for a way to flee the scene.

A motorcyclist rounded the corner to his right and he quickly covered his face and ran in front of her, waving his arms. Sure enough, she slammed on the brakes, turning slightly to avoid flipping the bike as it skidded to a halt. She spread her arms out in a gesture that clearly asked what his problem was, then screamed in surprise as he shoved her off and got on.

“Sorry!” he called back to her before turning the accelerator as far as it would go, pressing his hat securely on his head to make sure he wouldn’t lose it.

((((((*******))))))

“Last turn!” Skeeter notified his friends.

Twilight once more used her magic to keep the bus from rolling over as it flew full-speed around the corner, the feds in hot pursuit.

“Alright!” the mechanic called as the bus leveled out once more. “Now we got no reason to slow down!”

“Then floor it!” Arnold yelled from the back door. “They’re startin’ to get impatient! Twi, Ah could use a hand!”

While Twilight went to help his brother, Skeeter did his best to avoid killing pedestrians with the flying pile of scrap metal. Luckily, he’d thought to install train horns in place of the regular ones, so said pedestrians heard him coming long before they saw him.

The problem was that he’d neglected to install boarding spikes on the Outlaster, and the starchy bastards pursuing them were trying to climb onto the roof.

Skeeter picked up his solution and aimed it behind him, sending one of the aforementioned bastards flying off onto the road in a shower of blood.

“Key word: tryin’.” he muttered as he swung the shotgun down and up to reload it, electing to stick to the right side of the road so that any potential boarders would be forced to approach from the left. “Hey Arnie? Would ya’ll kindly get rid o’ them fuckers before they board us!?”

“I’m tryin’! It ain’t easy, ya know!” Arnold shot back, then swore loudly as his SMG clicked empty. “Ah’m out!”

Twilight looked away from the shield she was maintaining to glance at him, then turned back around and eyed one of the bigger guns carried by the SUV gunners. “Do you want some of those instead? Or do you want another SMG?”

“Whatever Ah can get, honey.” replied the marine as he hid behind the armor plating on the back, then jumped in surprise as several SMGs, LMGs, and combat shotguns streamed in through the door and organized themselves by his feet. He stared at them for a few seconds, then grabbed one of the LMGs and pointed it out the door. “Much obliged.”

“You’re welcome.” she replied.

Twilight, unsurprisingly, hadn’t personally been engaging their pursuers even though she held a clear advantage. With the speed they were moving at and how chaotic the situation outside of the bus was, she was worried that anything she did might actually kill someone. Killing their enemies might be all well and good for her new friends, but she didn’t know how she’d forgive herself.

So as one of said friends fired out of the back door, she simply focused on keeping him from getting shot.

Skeeter swung his gun around the lever and pulled it back into the cabin, having just sent a car full of potential boarders spinning away. He squinted, then grinned as he was just able to make out the green road sign that marked the beginning of the highway out of the city. Once they reached it, the feds would only be able to come at them two or three cars at a time.

Suddenly, his radio crackled to life again. “Skeeter, come in!”

He immediately picked it up and pressed the button. “Jesus Christ man! The thing went dead silent and Ah thought ya’ll bit a bullet!”

“I’m fine. I’m headed for the highway. Are you almost there?”

“Yeah, Ah can see it now actually.”

“Fantastic. I’ll meet you there.”

“Over n’ out.” Skeeter said as he clipped it to the dashboard, then turned slightly to address his friends. “Hey guys!”

Twilight looked at him from her position next to the emergency door. “What happened?”

“Al called back! Said he’s fine n’ he’s on his way!”

“Cool! Let’s give ‘im some breathin’ room!” Arnold hollered back.

“Can do!” replied the mechanic as he rammed an SUV approaching his left.

((((((*******))))))

Allen was not having a good day.

It had started out quite pleasant. He’d enjoyed a late breakfast with Twilight during which they’d had time to simply sit and talk for the first time in days, Skeeter had fixed his car and gone with him on the test drive, and Twilight had finally gotten to see her family again, which had also resulted in Skeeter’s subsequent (though admittedly shaky) oath of sobriety. It was going to be a good day.

Then he’d gotten a phone call from a former federal agent and everything had rolled downhill from there.

Now he found himself separated from his friends, being chased by the feds who were apparently under the command of a man he’d killed three years ago, committing acts of terrorism in the name of survival, and trying to reach a rendezvous on a jerky sports motorcycle because his precious Mach 1 had been blown to hell.

Needless to say, his patience was quite strained.

And the city traffic wasn’t helping.

“GET THE FUCK OUTTA THE WAY, ASSHOLE!!” he raged as an ancient Cadillac driven by an elderly man pulled out in front of him and stopped, forcing him to swerve around it as he continued to run from the feds. He’d flown straight past one of their patrol cars and had only avoided being turned into a fine Switzerland delicacy by the speed of the bike. Like moths to flame, they had all converged on his location and were trying to run him off the road.

He took comfort in the fact that they weren’t shooting at him anymore. For whatever reason, they’d been oddly tame in regards to gunfire. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but that was probably the one thing he didn’t have a problem with.

He reached the straightaway in a matter of minutes and opened the throttle as far as it would go. He’d be able to reach them in about five minutes, provided he didn’t crash first. Luckily, the midday rush seemed to be over and there weren’t that many cars on the road now. While this made life easier for the feds behind him, he was confident that they would never catch him on his smaller, faster set of wheels.

The wind roared past him, whipping the scarf around behind him and drowning out all noise except for the occasional startled car horn. He kept his hand pressed firmly on his hat for fear of losing it. Occasionally, he’d jerk the handlebars left or right to dodge a car changing lanes, but kept a straight path for the most part to maximize his speed.

That is, until the Jaguar came out of nowhere and stopped in front of him.

“COME THE FUCK ON!!” he yelled through gritted teeth as he tightly squeezed the brake handle, nearly being bucked out of the seat as he did so. He opened the throttle again, yelping as two SMG rounds found their way into his shoulder, and sped off to the left with the silver car hot on his tail once more. Clearly, the agents inside weren’t playing by the same rules as their comrades.

Allen made a right, sped to the end of the road, then turned right again just in time to see the Outlaster steam past up ahead. He turned to follow it, then stopped short as about two dozen black SUVs and assorted other vehicles flew after it. He glanced behind him, hoping the Jaguar wasn’t about to run him over. Not seeing it anywhere behind him, he extracted his silenced pistol and loaded his last clip into it, staring after the feds pursuing his friends.

((((((*******))))))

Arnold swore again as the clip in the last LMG ran dry, forcing him to switch to a less-powerful SMG. “Might need more guns soon.” he said to Twilight.

“That might be a problem.” she replied worriedly.

“Why?”

“Because I have to drop the shield to do that, and I’m seeing a lot of strange-looking new guns that I don’t want us to be hit by.”

Arnold looked past the front line of cars and grudgingly noted that the feds had RPGs trained on the back end of their getaway vehicle. Whether they were waiting for her to drop the shield, or simply ensuring that she didn’t take any more of their weapons, the crew of the Outlaster were facing a future with no ammunition.

“Skeets, save yer shots n’ just ram ‘em!” he called to the front. “We’re runnin’ low on bullets, and Ah can’t afford to leave the back fer our stash!”

“Want mah shotty!?” Skeeter asked, the gunfire and engine noise making it difficult to hear him.

“Would ya be so kind!?” he replied, catching the lever-action as it clattered down the aisle and setting it aside as his last resort.

Hurry up Al, we need the extra hands here. he thought anxiously, scanning the scene beyond the pink barrier for any trace of his friend. Seeing none, he raised the iron sights to eye level and aimed at a blue Dodge in the front, then straightened up and stared farther back as another car spun out. He waited for a second, then grinned as another one did the same. Speak of the devil.

“Is that our guy!?” Skeeter asked, also noticing what was happening.

“Yeah, he’s pickin’ em’ off from the back!” he replied, squinting as he tried to make out the distant figure with the silenced pistol. “Hey…he’s on a bike!”

“Huh!?”

“He’s on a motorcycle!”

“What the hell!? Why!?”

“How should Ah know!?” Arnold shook his head at the dumb question as he sent a few feds off the road to clear a path home for Allen.

He watched the ex-fixer swerve through the enemy’s ranks, sending any not blessed with bulletproof tires and windows spinning out behind him as he made his way towards them. The feds began targeting him, and Arnold targeted them in return, maiming or killing anyone who so much as pointed a gun in his general direction.

Allen approached them, holstering his gun and slowly rising into a standing position on the seat as he prepared to make the jump to them. Arnold scooted out of the way, continuing to cover him as best as he could while Twilight lowered her shield to let him in. The motorcycle wobbled slightly as its center of gravity shifted with its rider, Arnold’s gaze switching to it in alarm.

It was a mistake which nearly killed Allen.

The silver car approached them and opened fire, the front wheel of the motorcycle exploding in a mess of gas and rubber. The bike’s wobbling intensified, until it abruptly hit a pothole and sent its rider flying over the front with a terrified yell.

Twilight’s hand immediately shot forward, her pink aura catching him mere inches from the racing pavement below as the bike tumbled end over end away from them. Arnold angrily emptied his clip at the offending Jaguar, forcing it to retreat as she slowly floated the black-clad sniper in through the back door, pale and breathing heavily but mostly unharmed.

Arnold reloaded as three more cars took the place of the silver one. He needn’t have bothered, though, as they all suddenly rose into the air and slammed into one armored SUV apiece.

“That should keep them away. For a few seconds, at least.” Twilight growled, having temporarily forgotten her fear of getting involved in her anger at Allen’s near-death experience.

Arnold nodded and turned to Allen, who suddenly pushed past him and leaned out the back to throw up. He stood back up and wiped the bile from his lips, then looked up as he felt the marine’s hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll live.” he said breathlessly, turning around to talk to Skeeter. He suddenly had the air knocked out of him as Twilight threw her arms around him in a rib-crushing bear hug. Arnold looked on in surprise at the pained smile on his face as he returned the embrace, then shook his head and gave his friend an affectionate punch to his good shoulder.

“Thank you.” Twilight said with a smile, letting go.

“What are friends for?” he replied with a tired smile, which was quickly replaced by a look of resignation.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned. Then it clicked. “Where’s the Mach 1?” she asked slowly.

Allen didn’t answer, instead bending down to retrieve a combat shotgun and walking to the front of the bus, where he received a friendly greeting from Skeeter.

“Aw, hell.” Arnold swore quietly.

“How do you think he’s going to react?” she asked the soldier next to her, her anxiety clear in her voice.

“Ya’ll know what the five stages o’ depression are, right?” Arnold replied calmly.

“Of course.”

“THEY DID WHAT NOW!!?”

They both turned to see a beyond-pissed mechanic running down the aisle towards the back with the shotgun, Allen now at the wheel.

“Generally, he skips to stage two when somethin’ like this happens.”

“Uh-huh…” she replied.

“AH’M GONNA FEED YA’LL BITCHES SO MUCH BUCKSHOT, YOU’LL BE PISSIN’ LEAD FER A MONTH!!!”

((((((*******))))))

Carl grit his teeth as he tried to ignore the pain radiating from various bullet wounds in his upper body, concentrating instead on the iron juggernaut that continued to repel them. They couldn’t reach the sides without being rammed off the road, and the anomaly and gunner were tearing into his comrades and slowly forcing all of them out of the chase. And now, with Ghost rejoining them, they’d be able to expect enemy sniper fire in the near future.

“We can’t just keep rushing them!” he said to his partner, who was faring slightly better. “We need a new plan!”

“I know, I’m thinking!” Jeff replied, obviously frustrated. If they could get an agent on board, said agent could take a hostage and force the bus to stop. After losing close to a dozen men and watching several squads tumble away, however, he was scared to send anyone else at it. Disabling the craft was also out of the question, since he didn’t want to risk the explosives being hurled back at them.

“Shit!” Carl swore as he slowed down to hide behind one of their armored units, responding to a sudden barrage of shotgun pellets.

Couldn’t go near the sides…

Anyone approaching the back got shot…

“Got it.” he said shortly before picking the radio up off the floor, wincing as the motion aggravated one of many bullet wounds. “Lieutenant Jeffrey to East nine. Come in East nine.”

There was a moment’s delay as the requested squad leader located their radio. “East nine standing by.”

“You guys are driving one of the armors, right?”

“Yes sir.”

“Tell the gunners to get back inside and roll up all the windows, then make your way to the front. On my signal, ram into the back of their transport and hold steady so I can use you to get on top.”

Carl glanced sidelong at his companion before returning his eyes to the road. “You’re out of your damn mind.”

The sergeant seemed to agree. “Sir, with all due respect, shouldn’t you send someone more expendable?”

Jeff growled slightly at her word choice. It was one thing to be willing to sacrifice oneself for the good of the mission, but to label oneself as something easily discarded and replaced didn’t sit well with him. “No. We’ve lost too many…expendable…people already. I’m handling this myself.”

“Understood, sir. Moving into position now.”

“Good.”

“And…good luck, Jeff.”

Jeff paused for a moment, not expecting anything more than the previous callout, much less the use of his name in place of his rank.

Nonetheless, he smiled at the sentiment. “You too. All of you.”

He then dropped the radio and grabbed the med-kit once more, patching himself up in preparation for the stunt he was about to pull. Carl stared longingly at the bandages in the little plastic box, Jeff sighing apologetically as he closed it.

“With any luck, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” he said.

“You better be, or I’ll come in there and do it myself.”

The SUV reached the front line and held steady. Jeff picked up the radio once more and clipped it to his belt, then climbed out the window and onto the roof while doing his best to remain in the cover of the SUV next to them. He grabbed the radio once more and raised it to his mouth so as to be heard over the wind. “East nine, ram them!”

“Roger!” replied the sergeant, the SUV suddenly rushing toward the metal behemoth they were chasing, ignoring the abuse it received from the shotgunner as it slammed into it.

Jeff slapped the driver-side window twice, then held on for dear life as his partner swerved out of cover and rushed toward the other SUV. He waited, picking his moment, then sprang from the roof onto the SUV, barely avoiding a blast from the shotgunner as he jumped and climbed onto the roof of the bus.

He ran along the top towards the foremost emergency hatch, deciding he’d take the driver as his hostage. He’d need to hurry, though, since they’d seen him climb onto the roof. If he wasn’t quick, they might be waiting for him when he-

He pulled the hatch open, then immediately reeled back from a sharp jab to the face. He regained his balance in time to keep from falling onto the flying pavement below, the mobile platform he stood on making it slightly difficult to do so, then looked back towards the front of the bus to face his enemy.

He frowned slightly.

Arnold grinned as he kicked the hatch shut.

“Ah heard a theory once that covert types like ya’ll don’t fight as well in broad daylight. Like vampires ‘r somethin’.” he said, cracking his knuckles as he widened his stance. “Wanna test it?”

Author's Note

Next chapter might take a bit longer to do, as I'm trying to get my license so I can get this job I want. I will, however, be posting a picture of Skeeter first.
If you're enjoying the story, be sure to give me a little thumbs-up. Also be sure to leave a comment below with your thoughts.
And, of course, have a nice day.