Episode 6: American.

“SINE PARI.”

– Motto of the Joint Special Operations Command (JSOC)

Translated as “Without Equal.”

“I would strongly advise you to bring some backup,” Hudson said to his new captor as the two made their way forward through the suffocating alleys.

“Do I look weak to you?” Valera said, walking with a concealed limp. She was doing a good job of hiding it, but Hudson’s eyes were sharp.

“No ma’am,” Hudson lied.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t call me ma’am?”

“Seriously? Aren’t you a High Marshall or whatever the fuck?”

Hudson was usually more formal, but something about being starved, sleep deprived, drugged, and being pinged from shitshow to shitshow for hours had worn down his capacity to pretend.

“Grand Marshall.” She corrected,

Yeah, yeah, Grand Marshall of such and such. He could really use an org chart right now. He never thought he’d be thinking this but God he could go for a Power Point presentation right now that would just lay out the rules and regulations of this world. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be so lucky. So, he’d have to settle for piecing it together in between the gunfights, explosions, druggings and kidnappings.

“Sure, sure, whatever. You’ve got the sword.” he said.

Hudson retracted his steps. The charred remains of the battle the two had fought only a few hours ago adorned the streets. He walked past the empty smoke grenade he’d dropped earlier and kicked it to the side. At least he was going the right way. All he had to do for now was follow the carnage.

“Explain to me how you came into possession of that artifact. Were you an accomplice to the robbery?” she asked.

Great, more interrogations.

“See I was just minding my own business.”

A wall that had been unfortunate enough to have caught one of the fireballs collapsed next to him.

“I find that hard to believe.”

They continued walking like nothing happened.

“Come on, do I seem like a liar to you?”

From behind them, a few more muffled bangs from where a body was tired up in a dumpster rang out.

“Yes.”

Hudson nodded.

“Okay fair enough.”

“Answer the question.”

“Hey you’re the one who took me off topi-“

She jabbed him in the back.

“Okay, fuck, I get it. So I see these people running into a house. I guess they didn’t like me seeing that because the next thing I know I'm knocked out. I wake up in the back of a vehicle, all my gear stolen, tied up and sedated. Anyway, I break out, rob the driver of those crystals and end up here.”

She hummed. “So you expect me to believe you fought off a driver, half dazed, alone and then successfully escaped?”

“Damn right.”

Hudson straightened himself as a bit of pride seeped into his visage. Him straighting himself was a mistake however as an errant piece of jutting out wood smacked him in the head. Ouch. Goddamn these alleys were tight. The ‘houses’ were bolted together with no room between them, making it ambiguous to where one began and the other ended. Just doors and windows.

“What cat is your essence?”

Cat? Cat as in feline or cat as in category?

“Yeah I have no idea what any of those words mean. Last time somebody checked I don’t got no essence.”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Her eyebrow raised at that. “You managed to do all that with no magic?”

“Yep.”

She weighed his words silently before nodding. “Noted. How badly are you injured?”

“I’ll manage.”

They turned the final corner. The alleyways were tight, with stone and concrete constructions rising into the sky. Beyond them was a single sharp bend that you couldn’t see past unless you peaked over.

“We’re here. It’s over there,” Hudson said, nodding in an awkward motion towards the general location of the building since his hands were still tied behind his back.

Beyond the turn was the final pathway to the safehouse. He peaked over just for a second.

Fuck there was a guard on the door. Tall, strong build, arms like tree trunks. Other than that, two stories, and a single window on each one. Issue was they all had all had metal bars bolted onto them, a staple he was used to from the Middle East. Wouldn’t find that in American suburbia.

He turned around to Valera drawing her sword.

“This is going to be a bitch to clear, hand me a weapon and I think I can figure something out. Get these cuffs off of me, do you have a weapon I could use?” he said.

She pushed him aside. “Stay here. Don’t move until I return. It won’t be safe.”

“Hey, hey, what are you doing?” Hudson said in a hushed tone.

She walked directly in the direction of the guard, a frontal assault. Wisps of fire began to dance around her fingers, flowing down to her blade.

Fuck, fuck, no way she going to go in guns a blazing. He could not let that happen. He could not risk losing his gear.

A jolt of adrenaline rushed through him, a final gift from his overworked and near capitulation adrenal system. The effects of the tea dissipated. Before she could clear the corner, he leapt forward. His teeth sank into a loose piece of her white ornate dress armor and he pulled hard. They both fell on top of each other, Hudson on the cold ground. At least she was behind a wall now and out of sight from the guard. His arms however were now crushed beneath him underneath his and her added weight.

She twisted around, holding him down. Hudson struggled to explain but before a single word could come out a silver dagger equally as ornate as her sword hovered over his eye. The blade of her arm to his neck jabbed hard into his neck.

“What. Are. You. Doing,” she spat.

He of course completely ignored the implicit threat of the damoclesian sword, or dagger in this case hanging, over him.

“Valera, I would really recommend against doing what you’re about to do,” Hudson said, all circulation to his arms cut off from the weight on top of him.

“Killing you or killing that guard?” The glowing flame in her eyes told him the question wasn’t rhetorical.

“Both. Look, we got off on the wrong foot here. Can you explain to me for just one second what you think you’re trying to do here?”

“I’m going to apprehend the suspect.”

“By walking up to him in a straight line?”

“Yes? What kind of question is that? What else am I supposed to do? Do you see any alternative routes? There’s a single path, a single door.”

Hudson shook his head in disappointment. “You lack creativity.”

Her dagger became enveloped in flames, close enough to start hurting. “I have enough of it to end your insolent life.”

Hudson shook his head. “Turn off the fireworks Vale, I do not care.”

Her eye twitched. Hudson continued.

“I may not have any magical bullshit like you but call me clairvoyant because I’m going to predict the future for you.”

She gripped the dagger harder, “Entertain me.”

“You go in, blow that mother fucker up, mission accomplished right? Screw it, blow the door up too. Destroy everything in your path. Great plan. Except that the moment a single detonation goes off, every single father with a daughter in earshot is going to be out here with a pitchfork and torch. Ready to kill whichever dumb son of a bitch dared threaten their peace. Add to that crowd every other curious bored lookie-loo with nothing better to do and you’ve got one hell of a commotion. And while you’re stuck trying to blow through that reenforced door, dealing with the angry crowd, the thieves are going to grab your shit, and my shit by extension. Then make a run for it through a tunnel or back entrance. And hell, even if you can blow through that door, have fun fighting through layer after layer of defense in close quarters, because now they know you’re coming. Have fun doing that all alone with a bad leg.”

“Do you think I am a fool?”

“What?”

“I know. I know all of what you just stated. The moment I begin the assault I am running on a timer. What you have gotten incorrect in your assessment, is your estimation of my capability. I can crush that guard in an instant, tear through that building before a hat drops. I am not a coward, a fool, or a weakling.”

“You aren’t listening to me.”

“You are in the garbs of a beggar, a criminal carrying illegal contraband with an unbelievable story. I am not going to listen to you.”

He shook his head.

Goddamn it. He was running out of time here, every second they spent bickering like idiots the chances of his gear being moved to a second location increased. If he could just get one second to think. One second to put his life back together. So many questions circled in his head, the file of “What the fuck is going” was breaking appart. How had he gotten here? Where was his home? Where was his team? Where were his guns? Why was the moon broken? Why is there magic? Why did that bitch have cat ears?!

Something finally snapped.

And Hudson remembered who he was.

“I am Colonel Hudson Washington of the United fucking States of America, the greatest democracy the world has ever seen. You wanna know why you should listen to me? This is what I do for a living. Every single day of my life for the past near decade has been spent in 6 month cycles either deploying to the most hellish warzones man can create conducting no fail missions or training under conditions even worse. I have buried more men, made more widows than you can count. I do not care how powerful you are, your majesty.”

The rage in Hudson’s visage began to cool until it was ice, “Even if you’re the strongest in the world, the enemy can always, always get lucky. You are rolling a dice. Needlessly. We cannot afford the possibility of a loss. I cannot afford the possibility of a loss. You have to win without firing a single shot.”

He smiled, “And if you listen to me, and I can teach you how to win without ever even playing the game. Now how do you want to do this?”

Silence.

She turned off the flaming dagger, holstering it on her hip.

Hudson laughed, “Come on, I was looking forward to dying. Those flames were just so threatening.”

“Quiet. I have some questions for you once this is over, American. What is your proposition?”

“First, can you please get off me. My arms are killing me.”