Freelancers: Falcon & Phoenix (14 page)

W
hatever the original
business looked like or used to be is completely erased behind the loud colors and bright lights of the casino floor. People of all types walk the noisy gaming area, laughing and carrying on with as much glee as they allow themselves.

The bar is stocked full of people and beverages, and the table games are full of players hoping for a big win. Most are just normal citizens of the Freelands. A few are Freelancers, either tired of the dangerous life going after contracts or, like Stack, just looking to bring in a few extra bucks for a little of this and a little of that.

A short man with two beautiful women, one on each arm, walks by Falcon. He takes a second to figure out if they're working girls or if, maybe, the man happens to have two wives.
Anything goes in the Freelands.

Falcon smiles. He's home. His feelings of relief and relaxation quickly fade as he passes a game table.

"Honor the deal," a dealer says to a player not wanting to pay up. The phrase quickly reminds Falcon of his own deal with Phoenix. No matter how much he may want to stay, he can't. Not that he’d be welcome.

Big winners shout in celebration. Big losers walk away in silence. One particular big winner seems to shout the loudest. Falcon lifts his head as high as he dares and sees someone he never would have suspected in this place. And certainly not after their last ordeal. Little Wang jumps up and down, hollering about his winnings. Falcon walks between the other tables, past players and merry makers.

"Hit," Little Wang says.

"Twenty. Dealer busts. Player wins," the table dealer tells him.

"Yes!" Little Wang pounds his fist on the table top.

Falcon stops just over the little brother's shoulder. "That was a nice hand."

"I got the magic touch." Little Wang doesn't even turn around.

"Or you’re just really lucky."

Little Wang watches as the cards make their way around the table. "It's all skill, friend."

"Was it all skill that got you out of the Waste?"

The table dealer stops dealing at mention of the Waste. He and the others at the table turn to this stranger in the hat.

Little Wang's expression goes from joyous to shock, very quickly. "The Waste?"

Falcon keeps his head down. "You know. That place just south of here. Jeeps, guns. I think there was a tank but maybe you can clear that up for me.”

Little Wang turns around and looks up. The brim of the hat darkens his features but he still recognizes Falcon. The Freelancer's finger goes straight to his mouth before he reaches into his own jacket. "Dual of One." Falcon drops a brick of wet money on the table. The other players lean away.

The table dealer grabs the stack. "One hand. The table is yours, gentlemen."

"What's Dual of One?" Little Wang asks.

"Simple. One hand. Closest to ten wins. Face cards and aces don't count," Falcon tells him.

"What do I win?"

"In this case? You get my contract."

"But Phoenix—”

"Phoenix is on an operating table. Might not make it."

Little Wang looks concerned for a moment, and then he shakes his head. "That would be a betrayal of my Emperor. And I'm not a Freelancer."

"Maybe you are. You seem to like the money you've been making. Lots more to make in contracts."

"You said you're wanted here." Little Wang puts his hands on the edge of the table. The players closest to him and Falcon shift their gaze to the hat. Waiting to see, not only what happens next, but who is under it.

Little Wang suddenly, pushes away from the table, knocking into Falcon's shoulder and forcing him a step back as the little brother backs toward a wall. "Falcon! It's Falcon! Big contract, everyone!"

A woman steps behind Falcon. Her gun aimed at his head. "I guess my luck has changed," she says.

Ordinary citizens duck down. The players near the entrance slowly make their way out of the casino. Falcon watches other Freelancers slowly draw their own guns. A few point at the woman holding the gun to Falcon’s head. A deterrent to keep from her shooting him and getting the reward. Most keep their eyes on him. Nobody pulls a trigger. Not while they still can't see who he is.

Falcon shifts his hat toward the table dealer. "Keep the money."

The dealer only nods.

"Anyone who gets this guy off me will be rewarded by the Emperor of the Asian Empire," Little Wang starts. "For double the contract."

Falcon grits his teeth.
He
knows Little Wang can't make that deal. But others looking to profit might not know. He finally raises his head and looks Little Wang square in the eyes.

The sound of gun hammers suddenly pulling back and shotguns being pumped is like blaring trumpets. Whispers and murmurs at the confirmation that it is Falcon spread throughout the casino floor.

Falcon looks back at the entrance. It's far but not so far he can't make a run for it. He might even make it out. "I guess everybody forgot the rule. No shooting inside places of business. You all made that deal, same as me." Falcon opens up the big jacket, showing his gun is still holstered.

Little Wang starts to skirt along the wall, hoping to escape amidst the tension in the room but Falcon spins around and grabs his arm. He pulls Little Wang in front of him as a buffer between himself and the guns. The two begin to walk, backwards, toward the door while Falcon keeps an eye out for any itchy trigger fingers. Little Wang keeps his eyes closed as the guns follow them.

"Everybody just stay calm," Falcon says before leaning toward Little Wang's ear. "Soon as we get out that door, it's gonna be the Waste all over again,"

A few Freelancers step toward the door, slowly. Everyone waits for Falcon to make the first move. He makes sure to keep Little Wang between himself and their guns. A taller Freelancer slams a shot glass on the bar and turns toward the door. He slings a sniper rifle from his back and aims it at them. Falcon grimaces. There's no doubt that his head is in the cross hairs of the rifle.

"I have ten thousand dollars on you," the short man with two women says.

"I appreciate the confidence." Falcon keeps his eyes moving between each weapon pointed in his direction.

"You misunderstand, my boy. It's on you to not make it out. Don't let me down." The man and his escorts step backwards, out of the path of potential gunfire.

"If you get me out of this, the Emperor will—” Little Wang starts.

"Stop trying to make deals you can't back up." Falcon pulls Little Wang backwards until he feels the sun on his back. He looks down and sees his heels at the edge of the door then positions Little Wang to his left, giving the whole room a clear shot. "Turn around."

Little Wang does as he's told and faces the outside. The barrels of the guns seem to grow as they move closer to Falcon. He looks further back at the sniper rifle. The Freelancer behind it doesn’t move an inch.

When Falcon entered the casino it was full of laughter and celebration. Now it's as quiet as a grave. As though everyone is holding their breath.

Falcon slowly reaches for the brim of the hat. He pulls it off and holds it just below his eyes. If the other Freelancers had been closer, they would have seen the giveaway of Falcon squinting. Instead all they see is the hat quickly rising and their quarry running away from it.

The first bullet is from the sniper rifle. It punches a hole clean through the hat before it even has a chance to start its fall to the floor.

“So much for that deal.” Falcon runs toward the side street, pushing Little Wang in front of him. More gunfire erupts from inside of the casino followed by the sound of many boots scraping against the sidewalk.

Falcon stops and leans against the wall of the closed shop, holding Little Wang back with one arm.

"They're not after me," Wang says.

Falcon leans out a little and sees a few Freelancers start toward the guard shack. "The others must have gone farther into town. Let's go." He pushes Little Wang toward the alley.

Not far from Stack's place, Falcon shoves Little Wang against the wall. "How did you get out of the Waste?"

"Who cares." Little Wang looks toward the sound of footsteps getting closer. "They're almost here."

"You've got, maybe, ten seconds before they do get here. And once they start shooting, what are the odds you don't get hit?" Falcon threatens.

"I got here, the same way as you. I stole a Jeep and got out. Took the bridge and came here."

"There's no bridge."

Little Wang's arms move quickly and Falcon's own gun comes up, pushing against his chin. "You're wasting time. Now let me go before I blow your head off."

"You're not gonna pull that trigger," Falcon says.

Little Wang pulls the slide back, chambering a round.

F
alcon eases
the pressure off of Little Wang but still keeps him firmly in place. "Let's say you do pull the trigger. What happens when they see you with the gun and me on the ground?"

"Doesn't matter. I'll be free," Little Wang tells him.

"Wrong. They shoot you and take me out west."

"You're bluffing."

"Maybe. Maybe we’ll both get lucky and they won't even come down here. But if that gun goes off, they'll all come running."

Little Wang thinks for a moment.

"You don't have time to think about it. And I know the terrain."

The sound of footsteps gets closer. Little Wang's eyes dart from the Freelancer to the alley entrance.

"Tick tock," Falcon says. "By now, they can hear our voices."

Little Wang flips the gun, handle up. "What do we do?"

Falcon takes the gun and releases Little Wang. "Follow me."

The two of them, quickly, run to the steel door of Stack's place. Little Wang looks toward the alley entrance and sees a shadow growing. It's almost halfway across the entrance with more appearing alongside it. "Hurry."

Falcon bangs his knuckles on the door. One, two. He pauses for a second then does it again. One-two, One. Looking toward the entrance, he sees the same shadows, even further across than before. "Come on, Stack.” Falcon bangs on the door.

Little Wang watches as the tip of a boot steps just at the corner of the alley entrance.

The door opens and Falcon pushes Little Wang through before stepping inside as well.

"Who is this?" Stack asks.

Falcon closes the door just in time to see the woman who held the gun to his head, appear.

"Falcon," Stack says. "Who is this?"

"Him? That's Little Wang." Falcon puts his ear to the door and listens.

"From the Empire?" Stack's voice is full of concern.

"Yeah. Why?"

"And you brought him to
my
place?"

"I got a bunch of Freelancers on my back and you're worried about him?"

"It's not him I'm worried about. It's his brother. Don't those two come in a pair?"

"Relax. He didn't follow us." Falcon listens to the voices of the pursuing Freelancers as they pass by the door. He looks back at Stack. "I need a favor."

"Oh, now I'm doing favors for you."

"This one is easy. Just watch him." He points at Wang. "Keep him here."

"What about his brother?"

"Then you'll have a bargaining chip."

"I'm not a bargaining chip," Little Wang protests.

"It won't take long. I need to check on Phoenix."

Stack stares at Falcon for a moment. Something’s different. He looks at his jacket then at Falcon's head. "Where's my hat?"

Falcon's eyes go to the ground. "A sniper took it out."

Stack walks back to the work bench in a huff. "Man, take my jacket off before you get it full of holes, too."

Falcon takes off the jacket and drapes it over the nearby banister rail. "Don't make his life hard," he says to Little Wang before cracking open the door and looking both ways. Except for the shouting from the main street, there’s no sign of anyone.

"I'll be back," he says, stepping into the alley. The door closes, automatically, behind him.

"You know how to use a vice?" Stack asks Little Wang.

F
alcon steps
to the corner just inside the alley and watches for any sign of anyone. The side street is clear and the humvee is just as he left it. He pokes his head around the corner and watches the casino. Some of the Freelancers, feeling their time is better spent at the tables, walk back inside the brightly lit building. One of them stops just outside the door way and turns around to scan the area. It's the sniper.

Falcon watches the tall man crouch down to retrieve something. Stack's hat. The sniper looks at the hole he put in it and decides it's not that bad. He puts it on his head and walks into the casino.

As other Freelander citizens file into the gambling hall, their backs to him, Falcon rushes across the street. He stops in front of the humvee and waits. A couple of Freelancers walk down the side street, toward the alley. Falcon steps lightly around the armored truck to stay out of sight. He watches as the two walk down the alley with their guns raised and he keeps his eyes on them as he backs up to the door of the medic’s building.

Just as before, the small waiting room is empty. Falcon walks to the little front desk window. He places his hand over the bell but decides not to bother and just goes through the door to the operating room. The doctor looks up at Falcon’s entrance.

"How is she?" he asks the doctor.

"You're back. That's not very smart of you."

"I told you. We have a deal."

"So you did." The doctor checks her pulse and nods. "I finished with her a few minutes ago. I'm surprised she's lasted this long."

Falcon stares at him, waiting for more.

"She'll make a full recovery but I can tell you this is not the first time this young lady has gone through such a thing. This is going to scar, no doubt. Another notch on her belt, I suppose."

"I don't understand," Falcon tells him.

"I got the bullet out and the new blood going in. Whoever worked on her before did a decent job. Injuries that extensive usually scar no matter how good the operation." The doctor sits down on a stool. "She's got two previous injuries that should have killed her. A stab wound in her chest, right where her heart is. Whatever that was, knife, sword, maybe a spear, it went clean through. She's got a matching one on her back. Probably pierced a lung, too."

"Those are the two scars?"

"Oh no. That's from one injury. The other is just under her arm. There's a major artery there that she should have bled out from. Either this woman is a genius field medic or some kind of..."

"What?"

"I don't like to speculate on things too much but, some kind of medical mutation." The doctor stands to check her IV. "I guess if the war had been nuclear, such a thing could be possible. But it wasn't so it's not. Let's just chalk it up to luck. Or she's a surgeon. Either way, she should make a full recovery."

"Good. Thank you." Falcon watches her rest.

"Now, we need to discuss what you're gonna do so I keep quiet about your being here."

Falcon starts to reach into his jacket.

"I don't want your money."

"A deal? What do you need?"

The doctor shakes his head. "No deals. I just don't want
your
money. And you're worth a lot more than you're carrying. I want that."

"I can't make that call."

"That's why you're going to tell her to make it—”

The sound of a pistol hammer interrupts the doctor. He looks down to see Phoenix pointing her gun at his knee. "He's my contract. What he's worth is mine. Step back."

The doctor does as ordered. Falcon starts toward her but she swings the gun toward him.

"Hey." He tries to soften his voice. "Hey. I'm glad you're awake."

"What's going on?" she asks, uncertain of the events after the Waste.

"You got shot. Now you're better," Falcon tells her.

"You've been here the whole time?" she asks.

Falcon looks up at the doctor. "Uh, well…No. But I came back. So..."

"That wasn't the deal," she says.

"Nothing's changed. I'm still here. I'm still going west with you. I just needed to find a car while the doctor fixed you up."

Phoenix looks at the doctor then back at Falcon. She has the same look as before. An uneasy trust. The pain of the needle in her arm becomes, suddenly, apparent and she follows the hose running up to the blood bag.

"You lost a lot," the doctor says before he looks back up at Falcon. "I'm reasonable. Go do whatever it is you need to do but I want that reward."

Phoenix swings the gun back to the doctor. This time it's pointed at his head.

"Or an amount equal to," the doctor says, his hands raised.

"We need to go." Phoenix pulls the needle out of her arm and strains to sit up.

"This isn't a good idea." Falcon hands her jacket to her.

"Just give me something for the pain." She lowers her legs over the side of the operating table.

The doctor grabs a bottle of painkillers and starts to hand them to her, pulling it away at the last second. "I am not a charity." He holds out his other hand. "Whatever you were going to pull out before will be fine," he says to Falcon.

"No deals. Right."

"This is a purchase. You want these or not?"

Falcon pulls out a slim stack of money and hands it over. The doctor pours out one pill and hands it to Phoenix. The rest of the bottle goes to Falcon.

"You should feel better in a few moments." The doctor turns to a desk and writes down some instructions. "Take one every—” The doctor’s head darts up at the sound of outside gunfire.

Falcon runs out to the waiting room and cracks the front door open to the sight of Freelancers running down the main street. He runs to the corner of the empty building and peeks around it only to see Big Wang in a firefight with Freelancers. “Well, this is bad timing."