“Is it over?” Stryme asked, looking as though he’d been fighting a decade-long war.
“Yeah, I believe so,” I grunted.
My body felt like shit, from my shins up to my neck. It should be after tensing myself up for over 24 hours.
The sandstorm had been ravaging the valley for a full day. What kind of shit was that? Complete and utter bullshit!
“I swear to god Cypher. You’re walking bad luck, What the fuck?” He growled, pushing me in the back. I dropped to the ground of the ledge, falling over my haversack.
Stryme hopped over me and whiffed the air, eyes shut. It was downright comical watching him from the ground, but somewhat humiliating.
I swept my foot against Stryme’s own, watching the relief drain from his face like a basin full of water. He hit the ground with a loud smack. He rolled to his left, completely pissed off and tried to hiss at me as he drew his knife drawn. Well, that’s unexpected. I mused bitterly.
“What the fuck Cypher?”
“You pushed me. I returned the favour.” I said.
I pushed myself off the ground lethargically. I rolled my neck, relieving the joint stress, and watched Stryme charge at me from my right.
As my lips drew into a smile, I skipped back, kicking the knife from his hand with a roundhouse kick, and then stepped in. He did the same, raising his hand in defence, blocking my punch, but manoeuvred to sweep me. A loud boof groaned out, with sand puffing around us, as we both fell to the ground. “You can do better than that, can’t you?” I chided.
Anger and Frustration flashed across Stryme’s face as he bit his bottom lip, looking at me as though he was ready to kill me. Good.
I leapt towards him but jumped back, dodging his roundhouse kicks. I planted my feet down in defence, despite the screaming song my thighs and calves muscles screamed out to me.
Stryme scampered towards me, picking back up his knife. I deflected and blocked a series of stabs and thrusts with my cybernetic wrist.
Once Stryme committed too much, I brushed him off with a shoulder strike, then spun hitting him at the back of his leg, then rounded him to hit him in the chest and thigh.
A shimmering silver blade appeared in front of me, forcing me to dodge. I whipped my head back, keeping an eye on the blade, then grabbed Stryme’s wrist in response.
He kicked me in the chest and then buried his left hand into my chest, which stole the wind from my lungs. I swept my left foot, but he skipped back, avoiding the sweep. He spun, releasing his knife hand from my grip, then charged a knee into my face. This little bastard! I moaned to myself.
I stumbled back, nose ringing with pain and annoyance. Stryme didn’t let it up, waving his blade as if he were a Reaver, a poor one, but a Reaver nonetheless.
Stryme began cursing me as he waved his blade, frustration finally setting into his eyes permanently. I could see the revelation creep as well.
The revelation that he couldn’t beat me. It was probably hard to digest, but what could he expect? I was an N9 and an Infiltration Specialist Operator. Whilst he, who I still didn’t know, was on this mission.
A man with shoddy aim, I might add.
“Are you done?” I finally asked, dodging each knife strike with ease. He growled in response showing his determination. A determination that began to mount my annoyance.
I wasn’t interested in Stryme’s anger but since we’d left Saunters, he’d been a dick, something I planned to straighten him out. Right. Now. Just because I could do it. I thought ruefully.
Stryme waved his blade towards my waist. I grabbed his wrist and felt him spin his wrist out of my hand to free himself. I stepped in, following his motion and hit him directly in the chest with the palm of my hand, watching him scamper back.
To put an end to this fast. I danced forward weaving through his defence like a hot knife through butter, kicking him in the stomach.
In the moment of paused time for him. I watched his eyes widen as I swept him off his feet. He tried to fight it, mentally, but he knew well enough that I owned him.
I snapped my blade free, sifting it through the wind, then held it at his right eye the moment he hit the ground. “Do you feel better after getting your frustration out?”
Stryme didn’t answer, he kept his eyes on the shimmering blade which hovered over his right eye. As tired as my body was, my cybernetic arm didn’t hold the concept of fatigue. It only knew when the battery was being drained, and right now, it was far from that.
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The wind rustled past us, stroking my neck as sand found its way into Stryme’s eye, making him close them. He still didn’t answer, but I knew without him saying a word. “I’m not removing this fucking knife from your eye unless you say something Stryme.”
“YES!” He barked.
“Good.”
The blade slid back into my cybernetic arm, and I pushed myself up from the ground. I rolled my neck alleviating the stiffness I’d built up in the past twenty-four hours.
My muscles sang for mercy, and I provided it, dropping to the ground and sitting up. Stryme, who was to my left still lay on the ground battered and bruised. It was more mental than it was physical though, and that’s OK.
The both of us lay on the ground like dead birds. I looked up at the sky, ensuring no vultures circled us, thankfully none were there, but that didn’t mean they’d show up.
An hour passed before either of us moved. Stryme pushed himself up, then stalked over to our haversacks, picking up both. He tossed mine to me.
I fished into my sack, pulling a waterskin bottle free and taking it to gulps before stopping myself. “How much further is Sceleratus?” I asked.
“We’re soon there, we have to make a pit stop.”
“WHAT?” I hissed.
“The Waterskins are busted Cypher, we need more water.”
“Fuck, is it another ravine, from the looks of it we might come across more Doasians!”
“Nah, it’s not one of those. So you don’t need to worry.”
“Are you sure?”
“Very.”
“Give me the coordinates. I can put them in my GPS and I’ll know how far we are.”
“That’s not how it works. All logistics and route outlaying are left up to me. So don’t ever ask again.”
I ground my teeth in frustration, eyeing Stryme. I could feel my eyebrows twitch with his answer. However, he didn’t bat an eye or reacted to my anger. He just stared at me blankly, then nestled his haversack across his back, picked up his Assault Rifle, clipped it to his bag, and began marching away from me.
Asshole.
◆◆◆
As Stryme and I continued our trek through the Waste on fucking foot. I felt as though this could’ve been avoided. Doesn’t matter now, I mused, we’re soon there…according to Stryme.
The arid surroundings with little to no foliage were like watching a match burn itself out of existence. As much as I’ve traversed these plains with and without a team. I still couldn’t believe that these plains were once under the sea. It just didn’t make sense. The dead coral snapped beneath my feet, whilst bones crumbled with a brush of a whisker.
The heat scorching across the Carib Waste felt like venom. You’d think the desert was its past lover. A scorned lover at that. Love? I thought happily, thinking of Shin-Lee.
If there was one thing I made sure was real, was my love for my wife and daughter, and at a time like this, it was good to think of them.
“How close are we Stryme?” I asked.
“Close.” He growled.
“No need for the hissy fit, we can go another round if you want.”
“Fuck off Cypher.”
“Since that’s the case then, answer my question.”
“I ain’t answering shit!”
“I’m not asking for mission details Stryme.”
Still, he groaned a sigh, turning to me as he hopped over a shattered stone. I followed suit, landing with a groan. I dusted my knees off from the sand that puffed up and watched as Stryme tossed his haversack to the ground.
He dropped to the ground resting his back against a broken stone and stretched his legs out. I walked to the right, tossing my bag to the ground, rolling my shoulders and taking three gulps of water, to relieve my dry throat of its pain.
“What’s your question Cypher?”
“How do you know the Waste so well?”
“That’s your question?” Stryme laughed.
“Yes…it’s uncanny, it's as if you know every unturned stone here. It’s fucking weird.”
“…and quite simple.”
I didn’t say anything, because the tingle in my stomach told me Stryme was ready to dangle the carrot in front of me and tease me till he was satisfied. “Fair enough,” I grunted.
The two of us sat in silence for thirty minutes, checking what little breath we could in this heat. I took a few more gulps of water, feeling the dryness dissipate from my throat. It was good to feel alive, in this place called death.
The Carib Waste.
I turned to Stryme, watching him fidget his way into resting. He pushed himself up, eyes red in a daze and rolled his neck. “It’s easier to rest in a tent,” I said.
“Yeah…one I lost” He grumbled.
“Not your fault,” I said.
“…but it sure does feel like it.”
It would I thought, but no one controls the weather. Those were the words I wanted to say, but I kept my mouth shit. Stryme needed to feel responsible a bit.
I don’t know why Mr Black had him on this mission To me though, he was far too emotional, too young and had a too high opinion of himself.
“How did you lose your arm and half your face?” Stryme asked.
I turned to him, looking at him annoyed. His eyes were closed but his head was pointing up as if he was having an artificial sunbath, but with the real sun. Fine, I thought bitterly, fine.
“Lost them in a creek.” I finally said.
“Creek?” He asked, dropping his head and eyes to my own. “What do you mean?”
“I got ambushed, the same way we did to do those Doasians.
“In the Waste?”
“Yeah…”
“What was the mission?”
“HVT Escort”
“Ahh…”
“Yeah…someone leaked our location. I lost an arm, half my body and my face. Standard stuff.”
“Cruel world.”
“The world’s a cruel place,” I said.
I let the silence resonate between us, and felt the sun ray’s finally dissipated from my right cheek. It was a pleasant relief as they were a form of shade where we sat, which was as frustrating as catching fish with a rock.
“I have Eidetic Memory,” Stryme said, breaking the silence.
“Photographic Memory?”
“Yeah…that’s why I’m on this mission. I’m in charge of escort and infiltration.“
I chuckled shaking my head, then bit my lips in annoyance. “That’s not enough to know every square inch of this pissant place Stryme.”
“It is when you’re dealing with Black. You experienced his ARS Training yes?”
“I have.”
“Right. I’ve been force-fed that shit for three months. Recordings, Simulations, EVERY PIECE of recording of the Waste have been instilled to memory through that same tech and training.”
“I don’t care how much many hours you’ve spent in that machine. There’s no way you know every inch of this place.”
“I don’t, Black has built three scenarios for our success.”
“Three scenarios, was that display with the limestone one of them?”
“No.” He huffed. “I barely saw the shimmering stone in the cliff.”
“How did you know limestone was brittle enough to make a cave?”
“I went to fucking school?”
“Fair point.” I nodded.
“Christ Cypher, has anyone told you, you’re a fucking ASSHOLE?”
“Not to my face, but I can’t read faces quite well.”
Stryme shook his head, showing his disapproval. Not like I cared. I nestled my head back and closed my eyes, feeling the last bit of sun for the day, because the sun would set in two or three hours, but that was good enough for me.