An odd team of assassins, An Unlikely group of friends

Luke was playing something on one of the TVs with the volume off and the clacking of the joystick got Gradie’s attention. He didn’t remember seeing him turn it on. Luke glanced over at him and winked, then took a helicopter down with an RPG.

Michael spoke suddenly.

“Luke, explain to Gradie what you do.”

“I’m a shooter baby,” he said without looking away from the TV.

“Fucking A,” said Philip.

“Come on Luke. I don’t want to be here all day,” Celeste purred. Luke turned around and smiled dumbly at her while the screen filled up with the red haze of damage.

“Where you trying to go?”

Celeste looked away coyly. Lindsey leaned in.

“Luke, let’s get this done. He’s gonna be going on the next job, and I would like—"

“For real?” Luke looked at Gradie then at Michael.

“He’ll observe with EP on the next job, then he will be attached to the Operations team,” said Michael.

Philip put out his cigar and walked up behind Michael.

“And what do you think he’s going to be able to do for us after one observation?”

“I’m sure you will be able to find something. I’m not telling you to put him on the front lines. Or to go easy on him,” Michael said

“You can carry my back up guns.” Luke smiled at Gradie.

“Am I getting senile, or does this kid have no Hardworlding experience?” said Philip.

“I think he’ll take to the work naturally. If I’m wrong—”

“What makes you think that?” Philip snapped.

Michael shifted in his chair and raised himself up. “Because I found him in a Hardworld.”

Philip and EP exchanged worried looks, and Lindsey froze solid.

“What? When?” said Philip.

“At the end of our last job,” said Lindsey, like a confession.

“Are you losing it Michael, he’s gotta be—”

“I had him cleared with Lucy.”

“What in the fuck.” Philip asked the ceiling for guidance.

“It’s not unheard of. Some of my previous associates started out in the Hardworlds.”

“Well, then why are we even having fucking training day. Guy’s a savant!” Philip dug a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket.

“You mean his first time in the Otherworld was two days ago?” said Celeste.

“Yes, but—” Michael started.

“And you wanted to come here? To the Hardworlds?” Celeste looked at Gradie and for a moment her flirtatious veil dropped. An expression of realization broke on her face.

“Oh dude, are you trying to wake up?”

“No,” Gradie answered uncomfortably. “I just didn’t like that place.”

A smile spread across Philip's face. Lindsey gave Gradie the same look of suspicion she had given him in the gas station. EP watched him, expressionless. Celeste stared in disbelief.

“You didn’t like it? Did you talk to anyone? No one gave you any freebies?”

“None of it sounded as good as the Hardworlds,” Gradie said. It was true, but the memories of all the offers of unrestrained sex, thrills and violence seemed lightyears away from sitting here talking new age pseudoscience with a bunch of criminals. A part of him wondered if he hadn’t made a huge mistake.

“Michael’s little video snagged another one,” Philip said.

“He made his choice like the rest of us,” Michael said, sounding, Gradie thought, defensive. “He’s free to sample all the disappointment the Otherworld has to offer when he gets back.”

The team exchanged glances.

“Let’s move on. Luke, explain to Gradie what makes you such a good shooter, please.” Luke nodded, sat up in his chair, put his drink down and faced Gradie.

“All right, so obviously like Mike said, the me’s I drop into got a lot of time on the range, and lots of experience getting shot at and shooting back. But when it comes to combat from the Spirit’s point of view, it’s all about controlling your expectations.”

“Like you believe you’ll get headshots, so you do?” Gradie asked.

“Yeah, kinda. So when I let off rounds, I visualize them hitting my target, and I focus on immediate results. See the thing is to know your limits. Like if I try to push too far ahead, visualize where all thirty rounds in a mag are gonna go, the worlds gonna throw a curveball at about round five or something and then the rest of the dream doesn’t play out, right?”

“A curveball?”

“Say I got three guys drawing on me. I see myself putting one in the head and two in the chest on each of them, right after another, right? But by the time I get the first guy, the others are gonna split, move outta the way, or towards me, whatever. So, if I visualized them all just standing there and letting me shoot em, the moment they move it throws everything off and I can’t push anymore. You get what I’m saying?”

“You have to visualize something the way it will happen.” Gradie said. “The moment reality diverges from your visualization, it loses its power, right?”

“Exactly. Of course, when you’re doing the shit it’s not that simple. It’s hard to keep your spirit up front when people are shooting at you. And you have to visualize with your big self, your Spirit, or it won’t do shit.”

“How can you tell if you’re doing it with your Spirit?” Gradie asked.

“It’s hard to describe. Like most of this shit, but uh—” Luke exhaled at the ceiling. “If it feels like a daydream, like a fantasy, like some shit you would think up while you were bored at work, then that’s probably your self. But with the Spirit, it’s like—” He frowned at the coffee table for a moment. “Like remembering, in reverse.”

“What?” Sam laughed. Gradie felt a smile growing on his face, until he saw Philip and Lindsey nodding solemnly out of the corner of his eye.

“That’s a good way to put it,” Michael said. Luke shrugged and picked up his controller.

“Philip, why don’t you go next?” said Michael.

“Alright. Well, I used to be a shooter long time ago, kinda like Luke here, till I graduated to being a Sage.”

“Graduated to a lame,” Luke said with a smile.

“Explain what a Sage is,” said Michael, sounding weary.

“I’m one of those unicorns Michael mentioned that has no problem pushing memory after I drop in. I effect the Hardworlds the way Luke and Lindsey here effect their bullets.” He leaned on the back of the couch just behind EP’s head and Lindsey shot a cold look at the side of his face.

“For example, I can give you the address of an apartment miles from here, and if you went to it and opened the bedroom closet, you would find it full of weapons, cash, etcetera. Or, I could give you the number to a guy I’ve known for years who owes me a favor and can disappear you in hours.”

An image of the Hardworlds was forming in Gradie’s mind, at once terrifying and exciting. He tried to find the holes, prodding it and running it through imagined scenarios.

Stolen story; please report.

“So, if you imagined there were a bunch of guns, like in the pantry—” he pointed towards the kitchen.

“There are guns in the pantry,” E.P. said.

“Ok then, if you imagined there were guns in a house down the street, then we could—”

“You keep saying that word, ‘imagine’,” Philip cut in. “I don’t imagine shit. I know that the things I need are where I need them to be.”

“Ok, but they weren’t there before.”

“Yes they fucking were.”

Gradie squeezed his empty mug and Philip smiled at his obvious frustration, which made his words come out like insults.

“Ok, if they were always there, you don’t really do anything then, right?”

Luke laughed into a beer he had seemingly pulled from thin air and Philip smiled like Gradie had tripped on the way to punch him.

“Exactly. I don’t do shit. None of us do. That’s the thing.”

Lindsey rolled her eyes and Sam stared at Philip like he had told her his pin number in a language she didn’t speak. Luke nodded like he had to agree. It all made Gradie furious. Wasn’t he supposed to be learning something here? What the fuck could that mean?

“Be careful about thinking of anything we do as changing,” said Michael. “From the perspective of the hardworlds, things have always been the way they are. If you think of pushing as changing reality, it makes it nearly impossible.”

Gradie nodded, but his chest clenched. Every time Michael told him something about what they did, it seemed to reinforce his fear that he would never be able to do it.

Philip had lit his cigarette and stood staring out the back window, so Michael continued.

“Lindsey, tell Gradie what you do.”

“I’m an Operator,” she said flatly.

“Like Luke?” asked Gradie.

“Nah, she rides a bike,” Luke said

Celeste laughed and Gradie watched her jiggle. Lindsey sat still as stone, until Celeste had got a hold of herself.

“That’s one difference. But I’m a lot more subtle than Luke. More precise you could say.”

“What do you mean subtle?”

“She lets them shoot first,” Luke said.

“You want to tell him what I do or should I?” said Lindsey, without facing him.

“I actually have no idea what you do, so…” Luke smiled.

“I have a knack for going unnoticed. Blending in a crowd, or looking like someone who is supposed to be wherever I am.”

“How?” asked Gradie.

“Depends on the situation. Maybe I just happen to look like someone who works there, or maybe I’ve spent a lot of time in the area recently.”

“So, you hang around until they get used to you?” Everyone looked at Gradie like he was the dumb kid in class. Lindsey spoke in an overly measured pace.

“No, not me as in my Spirit. I remember that my self has been walking around that place recently. Understand?”

“Oh, right. So, wait, you can push memory while in a Hardworld too? Like Philip?”

Philip studied Lindsey from the window. She smiled, like she could sense him watching.

“In a way. Philip isn’t quite as special as he thinks, but I’ll admit my pushing isn’t as far reaching as his. I can only push that my self has been somewhere, and even then, it’s tricky.”

Lindsey leaned back in a motion of finality.

“And what about when someone does notice you,” Michael said, in an odd tone.

Lindsey froze for a moment, like she had been caught in a lie.

“I can also tell when I’m being watched.”

“How?” Gradie said.

“Like a sixth sense.”

Gradie turned to Michael.

“I thought you said the Hardworlds follow the rules of the real world.”

“You’ve never had the feeling someone is watching you?” Michael said.

“Yea, but usually no one’s even there, and—”

“What about cameras?” said Philip. “Can you tell if someone’s watching you through a camera?”

“Sometimes,” said Lindsey without turning around.

“Bullshit!” roared Philip.

“How is that not like magic?” Gradie asked Michael.

“If you were to practice avoiding surveillance, you might develop a sixth sense about being watched. It’s possible, but unusual. That’s what we do. We push the limits of what’s possible.”

“If I hide a camera the size of a grain of rice—” Philip started.

Lindsey nudged Celeste.

“Huh?” She looked up from her phone.

“Your turn babe. Tell the new guy what you do.”

“Oh, ok. Well, I’m what’s called a Charm, or a Siren. A social engineer. I can make people trust me, want me, love me.” She smiled and winked at Gradie, and he felt his face get red.

“Go easy on him,” said Lindsey.

“So, you’re hot?” Gradie said, trying to sound calm. Celeste gasped and pressed her pale fingers to her chest with an open-mouthed smile.

“Gradie! Are you implying I’m just some dumb bimbo? I don’t think Mikey would let me in his cool little clubhouse if that were true.”

Gradie watched her hoping she would move some more. Instead, she got still and spoke to him in a soft tone like she was sharing a secret.

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

“What?”

She leaned forward and pulled her dirty blonde hair back behind her head and smiled, exposing dark roots.

“Imagine me with a pixie cut, brunette.”

Her eyes and smile found sisters in his memory. He was in the drug store down the street from his house, in the condom aisle. She had walked up to him with a clack of heels, looked him over, then made a thoughtful face, biting her lip.

“You look like you should be buying those in bulk.” She had winked at him and walked off. By the time he had realized what had happened, she was halfway down the aisle. He tried to think of something to say and just got out:

“Yea.” Loudly, voice breaking. She had smiled at him over her shoulder and turned down the center aisle, ass bouncing like a dream. He had stood there for half a minute before following after her.

At the end of the row, he found only bare linoleum and undisturbed endcaps. He searched the mirror windows along the back wall, angled down at the rows next to him. Nothing.

He walked through the store like a maze, turning down random aisles and picking up things he didn’t need. Defeated, he checked out, glancing around the whole time, then walked slowly out the door and across the parking lot, darkening under a black shoe-polish sky and glaring post lamps. He had sat in his car for twenty minutes as the dim fading evening tore thin clouds to shreds at the edge of the world, before driving around the lot looking for her, imagining she was in the back seat of some sedan waiting to take him.

“Oh, I didn’t recognize you,” he said. Everyone looked at him like he had grunted, and Lindsey put her face in her hand.

“Oh, right,” he said.

“Chance encounters. Missed connections type shit. Gets em every time.” Celeste shrugged.

“So, you can push memory in a Hardworld too.” Gradie looked at Philip. “So—”

“So we got a lot of unicorns in this group. Michael’s point was that you won’t be pushing memory in a Hardworld any time soon, so just focus on not dropping out, and not wasting our time trying to be smart.”

Michael shot a look at Philip, and he took another drag on his cigarette.

“Celeste, tell him about how you use dreams in the Hardworlds.”

“Oh, I can go inside them.”

“What, other people’s dreams?” said Gradie. That didn’t sound like ‘pushing the possible’. It sounded completely impossible.

“Only other Spirits. Dreams here are connected to the Otherworld.”

“Why?”

Celeste opened her mouth then shut it and smiled sheepishly.

“Got me. I just work here.”

“Remember the pills in the gas station, Gradie?” Michael said. “Dreams and other altered states of consciousness allow the Spirit to move between the Otherworld and the Hardworlds.”

“We all use the Dreamworlds when on an OP for communication,” said Philip. “Celeste’s specialty is getting in someone’s dreamworld when they don’t invite her in.”

Celeste smiled bowed her head.

“Communication?” Gradie asked.

“Good way to talk where you know no one’s listening. Usually.” Philip said, adding the last word with a scowl.

“EP, please explain to Gradie what you do,” said Michael. EP pulled her big bright eyes up from her phone and set them on Gradie. He remembered the more vibrant pair under a mask in the Otherworld, and realized he liked these better, dark circles and all.

“I’m logistics, information, all kinds. I watch and listen, control the comms, supplies,” she said, sounding bored. “I drop into a self with a specific set of skills; Networking, hacking, a background or current employment with intelligence agencies.”

‘I thought you all dropped into versions of yourself with skills? Do yall ever trade roles?” Gradie asked.

“No, I have a natural affinity for the skills I use, just as they have theirs,” EP said tersely, as if he had offended some religious sentiment.

“Our selves aren’t that different from us,” Michael said. “It’s easier to push a past that you yourself may have taken, but for a few choices. In EP’s case, she has a knack for dropping into a self with a genius for programming, communication, and surveillance.”

EP stiffened, as if the compliment made her uncomfortable. Michaels words had stirred another question in Gradie.

“So, you could learn anything? Like if I possess a me in the Hardworlds that knows how to speak Russian—” he blushed, hoping no one guessed why he had Russians on the mind “– then when I go back to the Otherworld—”

“No,” said EP and Lindsey at the same time.

“Think of your Spirit like a program running on different computers,” said Michael. “It has access to different files depending on what computer you run it on.”

“Yea, I got that, but, If I speak Russian in a Hardworld, and my Spirit remembers me doing that, then wont I remember the Russian phrases that I spoke?”

“Knowing how to do something and remembering that you did it are two different things,” said Michael. “Also, memories are not as solid as you seem to think they are.”

“What?”

“Let’s say you drop into a self with knowledge of how to crack into a certain kind of database. You do that, using the knowledge in your Self, but when you get back to the Otherworld, you’ll only hazily remember what the screen looked like, or maybe a few keystrokes, but you won’t remember most of the commands, the process, because in the Hardworld you were using your brain, your memory, things that your self had done thousands of times, so that you did them almost without thinking. When you try to do those things later, without the self, you only have half memories of doing those things once. That’s why our training for the Hardworlds is more general, strategic.”

“Oh.” Gradie said flatly. His own Self’s memories had been laying at the bottom of his mind like debris in a fish tank, and he felt them stir any time he moved the water too much. The conversation with the team felt like a buoy, keeping him afloat in the realm of Otherworlds and Spirits. They all seemed so relaxed, like it was just another day at the house, that he felt like a sick man among the healthy. His self’s memories called him down, and he struggled to ignore them. He hoped the teams calm was because they no longer heard the calling, and not because they had learned to just live with it.

“Sam, your turn,” Said Michael.

Sam stopped chewing on her finger and sat up.

“Ok, um, I’m kind of like EP, what Philip calls a bot. I drop into me’s that can do specific tasks. But I prefer the term monkey. Like a skills monkey.”

She snickered into her coffee. Michael sighed.

“Explain how you’re different from EP,” he said.

“Oh. Well, I don’t do drones and computers and stuff. I’m more like, mechanic, hands on. Lock picking, improvised bombs. Grease monkey repairman type stuff and all. And I drive.” She made a steering wheel motion with her hands.

“She’s like a gofer,” said Philip.

“Gofer these nuts,” Sam yelled at him.

“Sam is the newest member of our team, before you,” said Michael. “So once you’re done observing with EP, you’ll be attached to her.” Gradie nodded and tried to keep the excitement out of his face.

“Your turn Mike,” said Celeste

“I’m the boss. My role is whats called Overlord. I watch from afar and direct the overall strategy.”

“So you’re like a supervisor?” Gradie asked. He hadn’t meant it to be insulting, but the team broke out in chuckles, and Michael smiled mockingly.

“I was an operator for a long time before I went independent. Everything you’ll do in this job, I’ve already done.”

Gradie reflexively expected some comment from Philip, but instead saw that every bit of sarcasm had drained from his face. There was something like respect, lined with sadness.

“Well, now you know everyone, welcome to the team,” Luke said. He unpaused the game and got to cover.