I Think We've Reached Our Limit
Hans stood leaning against the car hood for a while, but with each passing minute, he grew more impatient.
— "Ah, screw this! SMITH!!"
Smith, on the other hand, remained quiet, smoking behind a small pile of wreckage. He was already considering abandoning the mission and just heading home. After all, the reason he had agreed to this trip was his brother, and ironically, his brother was the only thing that had gone wrong so far…
However, when Hans shouted, Smith got up without a word. He took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaled slowly, and then, with a completely blank expression, flicked the cigarette right into Hans' face.
— "I'm leaving. Screw you… I'm done with this crap… And DEFINITELY done with you!"
— "WHAT?! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR DAMN MIND, YOU PIECE OF SHIT?!"
— "SHUT UP AND GET IN THE CAR!"
— "GET IN THE CAR?!"
Hans stepped in front of Smith, blocking his path. Smith's irritation spiked.
— "HAVE YOU EVEN THOUGHT ABOUT THE FACT THAT WE'RE HEADING INTO A HIGHLY RADIOACTIVE ZONE?! EVEN WHERE WE'RE STANDING RIGHT NOW IS RADIOACTIVE—WE SHOULD BE TAKING SOME KIND OF PRECAUTIONS, YOU IDIOT!"
— "WAIT A DAMN MINUTE! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO KEEPS CHANGING HIS MIND OUT OF NOWHERE, AND I'M SUPPOSED TO DEAL WITH YOUR MOOD SWINGS?! SMITH, I SWEAR I TRY TO STAY CALM, BUT YOU DRIVE ME INSANE, YOU GRUMPY BASTARD!"
— "You? Calm? HAHAHAH! Look… If the problem is money, I'll pay you whatever you were supposed to get. ALRIGHT?!"
— "MONEY?! Now you're trying to bribe me?! You're impossible to reason with… You know what? Whatever. Do what the hell you want! I just know that I—ME—IF I WANT TO… I'LL GET IN THE DAMN CAR! GOT IT?!"
— Hans!
— What?
— We need to be careful—this area is radioactive...
— You think I don't know that? Stop treating me like I'm an idiot!
— Then stop acting like a child! Let's go! Get in the car...
— You're too old to be bossing me around!
The two got into an old car—an SUV from the 2020s.
— This was all you could afford, old man?
— Shut up! It was free, and it was one of the best of its time.
— I doubt it! A rusty junk heap made to scam customers.
— SHUT UP!
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The rest of the group was trapped inside Hans Smith's small bunker trap, while Stanley Smith tried to escape. The group was left unaware of his fate.
— Get ready! He could do anything!
H.K. was interrupted by a weak, coughing voice. It was Shawn.
— Shawn?
— Y-you n-nee-d to k-kill m-me...
— What? H.K., tell him that...
— Cassandra... he's right.
— What? What do you mean?
— He's suffering too much... And we have little chance of making it out of here alive.
— Well... this is your fault. IT WAS YOU! YOU! YOU WHO WANTED TO HELP THAT DAMN SMITH!
— Even you, cursing? I didn't expect that from you... Can you calm down?! We're getting out of here. I have an ace up my sleeve, but it's not a good one...
He got no response and simply drew his plasma weapon. Then, he paused for a moment and looked into poor Shawn's eyes... but he didn't feel pity. He felt sadness. He wanted to cry...
He nodded at Shawn.
— Step back... Does everyone agree?
But no one answered, and they just stepped back. The group, instinctively, was trusting H.K.
— Have a good journey... companion.
WHINING!
Before shooting, he reduced the weapon's power so as not to desecrate Shawn's body and aimed at his heart, ensuring there was no chance of a gruesome bloodbath.
The group fell silent.
Seconds after the shot, they heard loud voices from above.
— He escaped! You idiot! I told you we had to leave someone watching the room. They still had weapons. WHY DID I TRUST YOU?! A nihilistic psychopath...
— Calm down. First things first, let's wipe out Smith's poor 'followers' and get out of this 'dungeon.'
KABOOM!
While they were talking, H.K. saw the perfect opportunity. The two were close to them. He had a single old fire grenade he had stolen from Smith's bag back in Antiqua Tellus. He had wondered if it would ever be needed. Everything seemed to fall into place. He activated the grenade before throwing it, leaving no time for the two to react and run.
— GO!! CASSANDRA AND STJARNA FIRST!
They didn't even question it and went. H.K. and Harvey took position, and the two ran forward, jumping to push off their hands and shoulders.
...
They had made it. Next, it was Heinrich and Burton's turn.
...
Harvey was the most athletic, so he took H.K.'s place and helped him up.
From above, H.K. stretched out, with the others holding him from behind.
Harvey jumped...
Jumped again.
He panted impatiently, as he often did, then leaped as high as he could...
Everything seemed to move in slow motion around him.
He felt like he was flying.
For a few seconds, he felt free and weightless like a bird.
At the same time, everyone was tense. H.K. especially felt an inherent fear of failing to save everyone... of not being the leader he believed he could be.
Antiqua Tellus, April 12, 2099.
They were retracing the same path they had taken before.
Hans had remained silent the entire time. A day had already passed since they began their journey back, and they had finally returned to their starting point. The parking lot.
They got out of the car without making the slightest eye contact.
POW!
A gunshot rang out suddenly. They didn't know where it came from, so they just ducked. But a few seconds later, Hans noticed that it came from the ruins of the old store.
Smith realized the same thing right after Hans, and without any expression on his face, he immediately pulled out a very small, already-loaded firearm and fired precisely at the shadow in the old building. Hans was shocked—more by the accuracy of the shot than the action itself. Smith had hit his target with astonishing precision and speed, using only a single bullet.
Apparently, it was just a sniper.
They stood in silence for a few seconds before Smith suddenly took off running at an incredible speed.
Hans barely had time to react, only managing to flinch before immediately standing up and chasing after Smith—more out of curiosity than concern...
When Smith arrived at the spot, all he found were scattered piles of wood, low remnants of concrete walls, and shards of glass scattered everywhere.
Hans arrived seconds later. The moment he laid eyes on the scene, he spotted a radio communicator, an unusual tattoo, and a sniper rifle propped against a crumbling concrete wall.
"How the hell did Smith manage to hit a hidden sniper?"
— Smith. This could be a good thing or a bad thing... depending on how you see it.
— What do you mean?
— Well... He was part of the mafia of the kid we were supposed to pick up. So, I imagine it was a trap.
— A TRAP?!
— Yeah... That means we might have avoided certain death by not going there.
— TO HELL WITH THAT! IT WAS A LUCKY BREAK... What I want to know is why a mafia thug would want to kill mercenaries like you and me. WELL?! SPIT IT OUT, IDIOT!
— Calm down, Scrooger...
— TALK ALREADY!
— I owed them money, and the boss told me that if I picked up a quick package, he'd forgive my debt.
— WAIT A MINUTE! THERE WAS NO KID?! YOU'RE A REAL PIECE OF SHIT! That's why you got so worked up when I wanted to go back.
— Listen to me, Smith!
— SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH!
— Listen! If we take this body, we can hand it over to the old police...
— It's the last precinct... Do you really think they're dealing with this kind of thing?
— Is it worth a try?
— Whatever! You carry him... We have to ditch the car there anyway—I don't want another enemy on my back. So we're walking...
— HOLD ON! You think I'm gonna carry this? You're the one who shot him...
Hans's voice was so convincing, so soothing. But in the future, he would remember it as manipulative...
— Fine then. I don't feel like wasting any more time. I just want to get the hell out of here.
Smith crouched down and lifted the body with both arms, struggling under the weight.
The man was short but broad, making him incredibly heavy.
— Help me carry this damn thing already!
Hans grabbed the man's right arm and pulled—but obviously, it didn't help. Smith let the body drop to the ground, exhaling sharply, his face flushed red. His appearance wasn't that of a young man, which made his impatience seem even more unsettling.
— I'm dragging this damn thing the whole way. So don't complain!
— Alright, alright... Whatever. I don't care. I just want my money.
— First, promise me one thing.
— What?
— You'll never look for me again after this. You'll leave me alone and stay out of my life.
— WHAT?! WHY?!
— PROMISE ME!
— Whatever! I, Hans Smith, promise never to have any contact with you again.
Smith nodded, a faintly malicious smile crossing his face as he began to drag the body.
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