OK, let's get this over with: the characters are Marvel's. No profit is being made. Don't sue. I'm a poor college student, living in a third-world country, with a third-world paid job. All you people will get is a fraction of my scholarship, which isn't much to begin with. So there. Gracias to Alicia and Jeff for much-needed proof-read.
Feedback adored, flames not (I wouldn't understand the foul words, anyway :)
This is a little "What if?" kinda story (really short, also), featuring events in the end of the Six-Pack last mission, in Yucatan, Mexico. Sooo...what if Hammer would not have been the one giving Stryfe the famous disk? (Granted, he'll be walking now, but that's not my point.)
Shots
by Adriana
The day was over in the Mexican desert.
The Six Pack, the last group of people to walk here, was also over. Dead all, except for their leader, who only wished he did have died in the same, terrible explosion. It was entirely his fault, Cable knew. He had killed them. So much for a leader. So much for the 'Chosen One'.
He may have survived, but the 'Askani's son' part of him was dead.
~HOW could I let this happen?!? ...how-- WHY--?~
A decision-- a mistake. Gone horribly wrong.
It wasn't supposed to end this way.
It was supposed to last forever...
~Forever, Nathan~
Aliya's words, with all her hope in them. Smiling, loving him. And dying, so long ago.
Domino's words, too, but full of mockery and disgust when she snarled them at him, just that morning. Crying, cursing the heavens and all things above. Hating him. Then dying.
And the explosion afterwards...
Because of him.
Because of that DAMNED 'PRECIOUS MISSION' of his.
He felt his heart sink deeper, in a burst of tears that wouldn't stop, choking and trying desperately to walk steady, to reach --
~Flonq it all...--I can't...can't even think...~
Breathing was difficult...the vision blurred...weak enough to almost stop thinking, but not to stop hurting. Meanwhile, the TO virus was spreading, and he couldn't even bring himself to think straight enough to...
He had shot her. ~HER!~
In the back.
For a STUPID --meaningless...--freaking DISK!
It was almost impossible to believe. It HAD to be a nightmare, one of those that so often make him clench his teeth to contain the screams, but always vanished in the morning-- had to.
He'll wake up in a minute...~This ISN'T happening!~
--It was, though. It had happened. He remembered it all too well, the memory crystal through all its horror.
Those piercing violet eyes of hers, wide open...unable to understand what was happening...a pale hand, held in an attempt to stop him, to talk things out, to buy another minute of mortal time...her body turning around, shaking...One shot.
Stryfe laughing.
--It had been too fast, DAMN IT!
Barely over a second.
A conditioned reflex. He wasn't thinking. Never had.
How could he? Can a man wake in the morning and think: "I'm gonna shoot the woman I love ~--IN THE BACK--!~ just in case she doesn't want to let go the disk...?"
His sad, hysterical attempt to laugh surprised himself, like if coming from a great distance.
His throat feels hoarse, and the sound came out more like a broken cry.
He had killed her.
The tears hadn't stop, rolling down his face, cleaning paths in the dirt and the sweat and the blood...was this her blood?
God, had she bled--...she had bled to death.
Her blood...--it was everywhere-- tingeing his thoughts, his vision, his tears, his very soul...--drowning him.
Her eyes...the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen-- scanning wildly for a last sight to hold on to, and showing fear and sorrow and shutting down and never opening again...
Once, they had sparkled for him, dancing full of mischief while she gently reached out a hand to trace the lines of his face. Once they had looked at him and it was love in them. They had marked the only soft-- human spot left in his heart.
How could he forget that? How could he-- hadn't thought of--?
How can he be so empty, so ruthless?
So-- less than a man. An assassin. A machine.
Such a coward.
Such a waste.
He couldn't stop the pain. Didn't want to.
He raised his gun.
A single shot ripped the silence of the desert.
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