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This fanfiction article, Day by Day/Tools of the Trade, was written by Actene. Please do not edit this fiction without the writer's permission. |
"OK, let's go over this again."
Simon knelt on the dusty incline of a small slope, clipping his battered assault rifle onto the back of his equally battered armor. He tugged a small duffel bag off his shoulder and set it down on the ground beside him.
"You've got their comms, right?"
"Of course I have their comms, dumbass," Diana responded irately. "What do you think you pay me for? Oh, wait. You don't pay me at all."
"Shut up. Is everything going like they said it would?" Nothing. He sighed and unzipped the duffel. "I really don't want to deal with this right now, Diana. Not today."
"Then you should be nicer to the girl who's the only thing between you and a very messy death, shouldn't you?" she said archly. "And you should give her the benefit of the doubt unless she says otherwise."
"Fine, fine, I get it. Christ." He opened the duffel and pulled out a barrel, the first component to the disassembled SRS-56M sniper rifle he had just lugged half a mile to this little hill. "As if I didn't have enough to deal with without having to tiptoe around you, too."
"Somehow, I think a little consideration for my feelings is a small price to pay for staying alive, don't you?"
He didn't answer and instead focused on assembling the rifle, making sure that dust hadn't managed to clog any slots or holes. He, that is to say they, couldn't afford a jam, not on a job like this.
"The convoy's three minutes out," Diana reported. "That Hornet that passed by earlier was the genius they sent to scope this place out. He didn't report anything even after you did your best to get us spotted."
"Would you just knock it off already?" Normally he could grin and bear his way through his A.I. partner's constant ribbing, but the trek to this point and the clenched fist in his gut that always started to clamp down during jobs had both served to make him rigid with tension. "I swear, being with you is like being back on my old team sometimes."
"Do tell."
"Oh, don't get me started." He slotted the rifle's scope into place. "Always with the nagging. Simon, don't shoot there, Simon you're aim's terrible, Simon, you trying to get us all killed?"
"Sounds like they had you pegged right from the start."
"Oh, believe me, they never hesitated to tell me what a liability I was." He checked the stock on the rifle. "I was lucky I didn't get drummed out of the whole program."
Her laughter filled his earpiece. "You mean unlucky, right?"
"Go screw yourself Diana."
"Well, that's a cruel thing to say to a girl who can never know the full pleasures you meatbags associate with sexual intercourse, isn't it?"
Simon paused and resisted the urge to bang his helmeted head against a nearby rock. "What the hell was that?"
The A.I. paused for a full five seconds, savoring her partner's annoyance as if it were a delicious pastry. "Oh wait," she said at last. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Simon?"
"Shut the fuck up," he muttered, blushing furiously behind his helmet. The little fiend was probably monitoring his vitals right now, enjoying the sudden heat spike. "That's none of your business."
"Whether or not you actually did get some STDs from Doc is actually a big part of my business, dumbass. Convoy's almost here, by the way."
He fumbled with the last components of the rifle in his hurry to assemble it. He wasn't tense now, just angry. Angry with Diana for the insults and angry with himself for letting them get so deep under his skin.
"You do realize what it means don't you?" she asked after a few moments of silence. The rumble of the convoy was beginning to draw near. "The fact that they never bothered to give any of you sex education, that is."
"I do and it pisses me off every day of my life." Sliding the rifle into place, he checked the sights one last time. "They never wanted us to be anything but weapons, which is exactly the same way the Innies thought of me when I jumped ship. All anyone has ever wanted from me is a way to kill people they didn't like."
"Which is why you take jobs for people to kill the people they don't like."
"At least I get paid for it," he said. He'd come to terms with this a long time ago and didn't need Diana pointing it out for him now. "That's a step in the right direction."
"Well, all you ever want from me are ways to kill those people without getting killed yourself," Diana pointed out, uncharacteristically reflective. "Which is all the Innies wanted from me back when they had me built."
Simon paused. In the valley below, the column of jeeps and armored vehicles rolled into sight. They'd make a pit stop here to rest up, which would be when Simon put a round into the man he'd been hired to kill.
"Well, if it's any comfort, I'd be pretty lonely without a tool like you," he muttered.
No answer. He sighed again and reached into the duffel for the rifle's clip of high-caliber ammunition.
"And my life would be incredibly boring without all those liability issues your old team complained about to entertain me," Diana said. For once, there wasn't any scorn or mockery in her tone.
Now it was Simon's turn not to respond. After several moments, he said in a low voice, "It's not here."
"What's not here?"
"The ammo. It's not in the bag."
"What do you mean, it's not in the bag?" Diana demanded. "How can it not be in the bag?"
"We... we must have forgotten to pack it in," Simon whispered. His face had gone white underneath his helmet.
"You mean you forgot to pack it," she said coldly. "Don't lump me in with your stupidity."
The convoy had stopped below them. Figures were already slipping out of the vehicles and setting up a perimeter.
"What the hell do we do now?" Simon demanded frantically. "We need this money."
"All you have is an empty sniper rifle and your close-range weapons! How do you plan on killing the mark now?"
Simon's face went even paler, if that was possible. "Oh, dammit, no..." he groaned, reaching for his assault rifle. "This is gonna suck..."
"Oh, don't be such a baby," Diana told him coldly. "Didn't those squid-heads teach you anything about stealth when they taught you how to use those fancy swords?"
"I don't think they thought they were training me to be an assassin," Simon retorted weakly, rising to his knees and beginning the trek down towards the convoy.
"Funny how that worked out."