Chapter 3
“This is impossible,” Evers said bluntly. “I can’t do it.”
Venin shook his head slowly. “You don’t have a choice in the matter, Evers. We carry out our orders.”
Evers looked up painfully at his group leader. Venin was probably the most skilled gunman he had ever met, and, combined with his tactical mind, Venin’s skills had made him leader of the Destroyers. The man was tall and unusually thin, with reflexes that seemed faster than the speed of light. Their leader’s face was twisted in an expression of disgust, probably disgust at the young member’s weakness.
“They’re my family,” Evers said.
“We’re your family now,” Venin said, his voice still uncomfortably like that of a snake. “Whoever this Family Harvin was, you chose to detach your-self from them and become one of us. When you swore the Bounty Hunter’s Oath, you swore to carry out all your tasks without showing favoritism. Can you recite that oath to me now?”
The young bounty hunter gritted his teeth; the memory came swiftly to mind after all the times Ferus had beat it into his head. “I am Bounty Hunter; I know no family, nor do I know love. I do not show compassion; I show my gun barrel. I have no hate; my only feelings are to carry out my client’s wish without weakness.”
Venin smiled. “I’m glad you remember.”
“You wouldn’t let me forget,” Evers pointed out. “I need to remember, if I am to be a true bounty hunter.”
The squad leader folded his arms across his skinny chest. “Listen. You have been working with the squad for nine months now, Evers. You aren’t a weakling anymore. You’ve killed without regret. But now, at first mention of your family…”
Evers gritted his teeth. “Did you ever have to confront your family at gunpoint? And pull the trigger?”
“I killed them all without remorse. It was my entrance fee.”
The young man let out his breath slowly between his teeth. “You’re a stronger man than I am, Venin. That’s why you’re group leader. That’s why you’ve killed so many men.”
“I’m glad you respect me…” Venin pointed to the weapon rack. “And that’s why you’ll obey.”
Evers moved past him to the weapon rack. There were so many pistols arrayed before him, many of them locked with a retinal scan to protect from a possible thief, but Evers already knew what he wanted. His father’s guns: a pair of long-barreled precision pistols. Nothing fancy, nothing too powerful, just a pair of weapons he had stolen from the farmhouse on the night he had left home.
Demen stood nearby; the fierce fighter had a strangely boyish face, and a tendency to be overenthusiastic in everything. “I thought you left home to join us because you hated your family,” Demen said. “At least, you told me that when you arrived. Maybe your mind’s changed…must’ve been that one shot to the head—”
“I came here because of my father,” Evers grunted. “My mother, my brothers, my sister, they all loved me. I was the eldest…But my father said I had to work harder than anyone. He said that, after all he had done for me—which, by the way, was nothing—that I should start doing half of the work on the farm. And when I kept going at my normal pace, he said I was lazy. That last night I was there, I had been working in the fields almost all day, and he wasn’t pleased with how well I had done the crop…He started swearing at me, cursing at me…”
The memory stung at him, and his face turned red. He tried to turn his face away before Demen could see, but the other bounty hunter had already noticed.
“Aawww, is the poor bounty hunter crying?” Demen taunted. “You’re unbelieveable, Evers. I thought you actually had some potential there…but I guess even I can make mistakes once in a whi—”
Evers didn’t know how it happened. He didn’t even intend to move, but he did. His clenched right fist swung out like the end of a hammer, and it connected with the nail that was Demen’s head with enough strength to send the other bounty hunter staggering. The formerly laughing man stumbled for three steps backward, and then tripped over his own foot and came crashing to the floor.
Evers stood over him, both fists clenched, anger hissing from between his teeth. “Don’t…insult…me.”
A hand was laid on his shoulder, cold and threatening. Evers knew in an instant who it was: Grav, the team sniper. Grav had never laughed, ever smiled, during the whole time Evers had known him; the tall warrior sniped, slashed, and blasted men with little or no emotion at all. Grav didn’t find the wild joy that Demen got from killing, nor did he feel it as justified by pay, as Venin did.
“Evers. He’s learned his lesson. Let him go.”
Evers turned his head to look Grav full in the cold eye. “He insulted me. I intend to make sure he pays.”
“And he will,” the sniper said. “One way or another. But you’re one of us; we can’t have dissension within the team or this whole mission will fall apart.”
Demen scrambled to his feet; fire flashed in his eyes. “I don’t need to be ‘let go’! I need to let this fist smash your face in!”
Evers smiled. “Bring it on.”
Demen moved forward, one arm drawn back for a powerful blow—and a laser flashed through the air between them, so close that both Demen and Evers stumbled back in surprise. Both of them turned to see Ferus holding a huge pistol on both of them.
“Stop this,” Ferus said. “Now.”
Venin strolled forward until he stood between the two of them. “Grav is right. Much as I would like to see Evers paste Demen’s face in—” he held a pause long enough for Demen to growl—“we can’t have us fighting each other, not when we’re about to start our most important mission yet. Twenty million credits—”
“Hang in the balance,” Evers finished, and unclenched his fist.
Grav twirled a scoped pistol around one finger. “And if we have to put smoking holes through some peoples’ dumb heads, that only means more for the rest of us.”
Evers looked at that pistol as it spun. The pistol was a deadly sniping pistol, a pistol that could actually manage a balance between long range and power without overheating and exploding: add a long barrel and a very good power pack. It couldn’t fire very fast at all—only about a shot for every ten seconds—but it was a very powerful weapon. He knew Grav wasn’t joking, because the sniper never joked. And Grav was perfectly willing to pull that trigger on them if it endangered the mission; Grav and Venin, as partners, had gone through a dozen other partners through the years, killing those whose weaknesses could possibly keep them from accomplishing their mission. It was a fine line Evers walked as one of the Destroyers, with Venin and Grav as teammates.
Demen sighed as he unclenched his fist. “Ahh, too bad. These little babies have been so bloodthirsty these last few days…”
Venin grinned. “Don’t worry, Demen. You’ll get your share of blood on this mission…cauterized, of course. We’ll doubtlessly have to take down some guards along with the Harvin Family.”
Evers sucked in a deep breath at the mention of his family name. He’d thought that, when he left home a year ago to become a bounty hunter, that he would never hear the name Harvin again, except when his full title was being addressed. And now, after today, the name Harvin would only be used to tell of how they had been assassinated as an act of war against Metropolita, for a currently-anonymous sponsor.
This is just unbelievable, Evers thought. I’m killing my own family, for twenty million dollars. Is it worth it to kill my own family? Is it worth it to be a bounty hunter, if this is what it brings—guilt?
He slowly let that breath out. He couldn’t keep feeling this way if ever he was to be a true bounty hunter. After this, surely he would be a true man, established forever as one of the mighty organization. At age twenty-one, an infamous bounty hunter.
And yet, even though he regarded the pay with longing and the fame as something wonderful, Evers couldn’t tell if he was proud of himself, or just as disgusted as his father had been of him. Was he really the kind of garbage his father had said he was? Or was he the bounty hunter he had been trying to be for the last year?
He walked forward and took his father’s LL-J9 pistols and shoved the weapons into their holsters at his side, then turned and left the armory. Evers blankly hoped that Demen didn’t start saying ridiculous things about him as soon as his back was turned.
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