Changing World Draft 1, CH 6 (Patreon)

Richard had boots, jeans, and a flannel shirt on by the time the timer hit zero, flashed and vanished, a message replacing it.

System Initiation Complete
Welcome

Welcome to what, Richard wondered. He glanced at Jackson, sitting on the bed, looking at his hands. He noted the exposed neck, quick death that way if he had a knife. At his age, he couldn’t pull the snapping of the neck anymore. From here, a gun would be aimed at the side of the head for an instant death.

Richard stopped the chain of thought. He hadn’t analyzed anyone for a kill in years. Even for his last kill, his thought process hadn’t been that clear. Was this a change due to this system initiation being complete, or because he’d decided to kill Jackson? Thoughts for another day. Right now, he needed to get a knife.

The knife block was the only source since he hadn’t been allowed to keep any of his usual knives in the cabin. He’d pointed out the stupidity of that, since he could kill as easily with a chef’s knife as a tactical one, but the firm hadn’t budged on that one.

He could vanish, Jackson wasn’t looking at him, but he’d notice that, and his ex-handler was observant enough any attempt as stealth in the cabin would be defeated. He was overthinking it. The counter had the coffee maker, and while he no longer had power, there was enough left to justify heading for it, then grabbing the chef’s knife and going for Jackson before he went for his gun. This fight would be decided by fraction of seconds. However it went, only one of them would leave the cabin.

Decided, Richard headed for the coffee machine and as expected, Jackson looked up and at him. The man glanced at the counter and he jerked; his gun-hand twitched. Richard had to give him that, Jackson knew him.

“You want to split what’s left of the coffee?” Richard asked, not altering his walk. “Unless you don’t like cold coffee. I figure this is the last time we’ll have any for a while.”

“You can make coffee over a fire,” Jackson replied, standing, but not relaxing. “Shouldn’t you be more worried about your ice cream? Once the generator burns through its diesel, the freezer isn’t going to work.”

Richard cursed himself. Of course, Jackson knew coffee should be a secondary priority. The ploy seen through Richard stopped. The block was within reach, but Jackson would get his gun out and—

“Can we agree this isn’t going to work and go back to figuring out what’s going on, Richard?”

Richard nodded and raised his hand. “Agreed.”

Jackson smiled. “As soon as you step away from the counter.”

“Can I at least grab a spoon? As you said, I’m going to lose my ice cream if I don’t eat it.”

Jackson nodded and places his hand on the butt of his gun.

Smiling, Richard opened the drawer and with two fingers and slow-motion pulled a spoon out. He froze as something roared outside the cabin.

Jackson pulled the gun out of the holster but looked at the door. “What kind of wild animals do you have around here?”

“Bears, wolves, coyotes, but nothing that sounds like that.”

Crashing trees made Richard look away from the block of knives.

“That sounded close,” Jackson pointed out.

Richard agreed. “There shouldn’t be anything large enough to bring a tree down, let alone more than one.”

“So we deal with that first? Then we can go back to proving which one of us has the biggest cock?”

Richard grinned. “You win that one hands down. But I am the better killer.”

“I’m the one with the gun, and the problem is still outside. Coming closer by the sound of it. Truce?”

“Truce.” Richard grabbed the chef’s knife as Jackson ran outside. Following him, he considered stabbing him. He could kill him instantly, or just leave him as an invalid and let him suffer.

The twenty feet tall black bear, with glowing red eyes, crashing out of the trees, changed Richard’s target. Bear first, Jackson once Richard was certain he could survive this. He slipped the knife’s handle in his belt. He needed something bigger. Too bad he didn’t have the time to get to his gun.

“What the fuck is that?” Jackson asked.

“Something to kill,” Richard replied, running for the side of the cabin and the ax hanging there.

“But it’s just a—”

The bear roared.

Richard grabbed the ax and judged the distance. He knew he could make the throw, the question was if he’d be able to put enough strength into for it to matter. Not like he had a choice. He wasn’t getting within reach of those clawed paws.

He put both hands on the handle, extended over his head while the bear looked between him and Jackson, and threw the ax as hard as he could. It impacted center in the bear’s chest.

Critical hit: damage 20 (base 11, minus half armor, due to stabbing attack, times 20 for critical)

The bear roared in pain as Richard dismissed the window with a wave. The information was useful, he needed to hit more, and they all had to be critical to do any good, but seeing what was happening was more important. As in, the bear was lumbering in his direction.

“Jackson, you need to shoot it!”

The gunshot sounded soft compared to the preceding roar. Richard saw the impact on the bear’s shoulder, but it didn’t react.

“More! You need to distract it from me!”

“If you’re looking to have it do your dirty work for you, I’m not playing along.”

“When have I ever let someone else do my kills for me? I need to get closer to it to have any chance of killing it. One swipe from it and I’m dead.”

The gunshot came one after the other. After the sixth the bear roared and turned to face Jackson. Richard activated Vanish and a ten-minute timer counted down. He moved as quickly as he could while remaining out of the bear’s like of sight, pulling the chef’s knife from his belt. While he didn’t know bear physiology, he suspected stabbing the spine anywhere close to the neck would have the same results as with a human.

“Richard! You son of a bitch, where did you run to? I swear when I’ve killed that bear, I’m going to track you down and end you!”

He was disappointed in the lack of trust Jackson showed. He’d said he’d kill the bear, hadn’t he? Now behind it, he ran to it and jumped, grabbing onto the fur to climb it. It bucked, and he almost lost his grip. He wouldn’t get to reach the neck. When it settled Richard stabbed it in the spine. The small box on the right flashed, but no window appeared as the bear dropped to its knees with a roar.

He stabbed again as it fell to the ground. Trashing and using its front legs to try to reach for him. It couldn’t walk, but it would need more hits before it died. He aimed higher and slammed the knife in over and over, doing in once for every three gunshots.

Finally, the bear grew still and Richard panted. That had taken a lot more out of him than it should have. Being old wasn’t conducive to this level of activity. He rolled off the bear and looked at Jackson, tightening his grip on the bloody knife. His ex-handler had his gun pointed at him. The truce was over.

“You’re out of bullets,” Richard said, confident in his statement as the gunshots had ended before the bear fell. “You only have two spare magazines, even if you haven’t used up the last one, by the time you put it in, I’ll have reached you and cut you enough you won’t be able to fire.”

“Then why aren’t you charging me?”

“Out of respect for our years of collaboration, I want to make this clean. Drop the gun and kick it away. One stab through the heart and it’ll be over. No pain, I promise.”

Jackson moved his arm, so it was pointed away from Richard, but he didn’t drop the gun. Richard studied the man, trying to understand what he was doing. Jackson fired in the distance. Six, ten, fifteen, seventeen, twenty. After thirty shots, he stopped.

“Gunman ability,” Jackson said, settling his aim back on Richard. “I’m never going to run out of bullets. So how about we renegotiate?”

“You know anything we agree here will go out the window the moment you stop paying attention.”

“I’m hoping this bear is going to make even someone like you realize you’re going to need help. This new world isn’t going to be an easy one. Do you really want to deal with it alone? I doubt this bear is the only one in the forest. You think the noise attracted others? Can you pull that vanishing act on all of them?”

“You make a valid point, but there’s a flaw in it. How do I know you won’t kill me the moment you get the chance?”

Jackson frowned. “You’re the untrustworthy one. I’m already not killing you. Come on Richard, you’re a reasonable man, for all that you only care about yourself. I can’t survive this alone, and neither can you. We work together, we leave this place, survive, get stronger, since that’s what this seems to be about.”

“Until you hand me back over to the firm. Maybe you can see why I’m not entirely willing to go along.”

“You’re too dangerous to be allowed to roam free.”

“Somehow I don’t think I’m the most dangerous thing out there anymore, Jackson. If I agree to work with you, it has to be with the understanding you aren’t my handler anymore. I’m not at your beck and call. I’m not your weapon to point and let loose, not yours or the firm. I’m taking this new world as my chance to see what I can accomplish while I’m still alive.”

Jackson considered him, looked at the bear, and raised his hand, letting his gun dangle from a finger in the guard. “Put the knife away and I’ll holster it. Then we can work on figuring out how to travel to the nearest city.”

Jackson was right. Even if he was a few decades younger, Richard wasn’t certain he could have taken the bear on his own. At his age, in this new world, he could probably count his remaining time in months instead of the years he had been looking forward to, but he did want to make them count.

He threw the knife into the bear. “What is the nearest city?”

Jackson hesitated, then sighed. “Timmins. We’re about thirty clicks from Timmins.”

“I expected a bigger city.” Richard looked at the blood covering him and undressed.

“You’re too dangerous to risk being closer to anything significant.”

“I’m honored that the firm thinks so highly of this old man.” He headed for the shower. “Although I suspect you don’t want the resident of Timmins to hear you say they aren’t significant.” He checked the water level in the barrel, then washed the blood off.

Jackson handed him a towel.

“I didn’t see you as the type to go for the assassin class,” Richard said, drying himself.

“Gunman class.”

“There’s a gunman set of abilities for the assassin. Representing the sniper, I suspect.”

“There’s an actual sniper branch of abilities for me, but I went with the martial one.”

“You’re being too free with the information you give, Jackson.”

“Richard, we need to work together,” Jackson said in exasperation. “That works best if you know what I can do. You need to stop seeing me as the enemy.”

“I’ve never seen you as my enemy, Jackson, you should know that. At best you were an obstacle.”

The man sighed. “I’m remembering why I only visited once a week.”

“I thought it was because you were afraid you’d fall in love with my sexual prowesses.”

“Oh, that was part of it.”

Richard studied the man in surprise. Had he been closer than he thought?

“Don’t be so fucking surprised. How often have you used sex to get someone to drop their guards around you? I knew it was just a question of time before it happened to me. The firm knows it too.”

“You were going to be replaced.” Of course, he would be. It annoyed Richard he hadn’t considered that. The firm knew how he operated. Jackson himself would have added to the file from his visits. And he still had thought he had the situation under control. He’d grown sloppy.

“Sometime over the next six months, how badly the firm decided my objectivity was affected would have been the deciding factor.”

“Was your replacement at least as good in bed as you?”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “How would I know? It’s not like I knew who he was.”

“I’d thought the firm would have you train him.” Richard walked by the man. “Teach him all my best tricks.”

“Oh no, I’d want him to have to go through everything you put me through in my first few months.” He paused. “If you still have that kind of energy.”

Richard ignored the dig. It was irrelevant now.

He went to his closet and pushed the clothed out of the way. He’d repaneled the inside as part of redoing the entire cabin when the firm had moved him in after recapturing him. Of course, they’d made sure he didn’t order any unusual supplies for the renovation, but they did nothing more than show up randomly to make sure he didn’t build any death traps.

They did miss the false wall he put at the back of the closet, and over the years he had sneaked in what he felt he’d need should he decide to run again. He removed the panel and took out the black suit, a double of the one he wore when on any job.

He put it on, studying each part first, and wasn’t surprised by the description windows as they appeared.

Armored shirt, light. Quality Fine: a shirt of advanced polymers designed to help survive most small arms as well as knife attacks. Armor 30. Negates edged weapons’ benefits against armor. Weight, 2 kilos.

Armored pants, medium. Quality Fine: a shirt of advanced polymers designed to help survive most small arms as well as knife attacks. Armor 50. Negates edged weapons’ benefits against armor. Weight, 8 kilos.

Armored Jacket, medium. Quality Fine: a shirt of advanced polymers designed to help survive most small arms as well as knife attacks. Armor 50. Negates edged weapons’ benefits against armor. Weight, 8 kilos.

Armored shoes, light. Quality Fine: a shirt of advanced polymers designed to help survive most small arms as well as knife attacks. Armor 30. Negates edged weapons’ benefits against armor. Weight, 1 kilo.

The socks he took from his normal drawer.

A window appeared as he put them on, showing which part of his body was protected. His head and hands were vulnerable, while the shirt’s collar provided minimal protection for his neck. The combination of jacket and shirt meant the majority of his vital points had the most protection. He dismissed the window and unlocked the case, taking out the gun and holster for it.

“What are you doing with that?” Jackson asked. Richard was unsurprised to see the man’s hand on his gun.

“Putting it on, obviously.”

Do you which to equip holster? Yes/No?

Interesting; he hadn’t received a prompt for his clothing, but then he hadn’t been interrupted.

“Yes.” The holster vanished from his hand. He opened his jacket, and it was under his arm, the belt snug against his body. He hadn’t had to adjust it. He put the gun in it.

Jackson got over his surprise. “I mean, how is it you have it? You were searched after every mission.”

“By men who could be distracted by a touch, a look, a promise.” Richard smiled at Jackson as he held the tactical knife in its sheath. “You said it yourself, I am very good at charming men. The firm should have made sure those assigned to escort me back were all straight.” He willed the knife to equip itself and felt it at the small of his back. Interesting, it was where he preferred it.

“They were supposed to be,” Jackson grumbled.

“How were they tested? By a questionnaire? Because they were married? You’re a psychologist, you had to know those weren’t reliable criteria.” He moved to the mirror over the kitchen sink.

His hair was thin, but at least he had a full head of it. Something he had to had gotten from his mother’s side of the family since his father had started going bald in his mid-twenties.

Stress, the man kept complaining until the day his sanity left him entirely, was the reason he’d lost his hair. Maybe that was why Richard still had his. He’d never stressed about anything in his life. Not about the people he killed, the reasons, the possibility he’d be captured or killed himself. Life was too interesting to worry about what might happen.

He straightened the suit, felt its weight more than the last time he’d worn it, but once he had a few points to distribute, he could raise his strength and compensate for what the years had taken.

He faced Jackson. “How do I look?”

The man smiled as he looked him up and down. “You look like you’re ready to kill.”

“Dressed to kill is what you are looking for.”

“That’s standard-issue, isn’t it? Armored? You don’t happen to have a spare? I’m feeling kind of naked in these considering what has to be out there now.”

Richard raised an eyebrow. “Are you implying I thought of you when I planned for my possible escape?”

“No, I just thought you might have kept a spare in case this one was discovered.”

“Sorry, the thought that might happen never occurred to me.”

Jackson nodded. “I’m starting to think the firm didn’t take you as seriously as they should have these last years.”

“I’m an old, harmless man, Jackson. Why ever would they feel the need to worry?”

“Because every report I sent them had reminders of how deadly and crafty you were.”

“I’m sorry the firm didn’t take you as seriously as they should have.” Richard took the ice cream out and a spoon from the drawer.

“What are you doing?”

“This is the last time I will get to enjoy ice cream in a long time, I expect. Let me indulge one of my few vices.”

Jackson took a spoon. “Only you would consider indulging in ice cream a vice.”

“Sharing a container of ice cream, why Jackson, this is so intimate. One might get ideas.”

“Just enjoy your ice cream, Richard, so we can get out of here before something else crashes out of the forest.”