Guns And Dogs Read online

  He heard some sneering and looked to see two men wearing leather jackets. One had a green mohawk and a black lightning bolt tattooed across his forehead and the other one was a hulking giant carrying a thick chain. “Alright punk,” Mohawk said, “hand over the briefcase.”

  “Yeah you little turd,” said his companion. “Hand it over squirt.”

  Johnny didn’t know what was in the briefcase but he knew that he couldn’t give it up to these two miscreants. Summoning his courage, he shook his head. “I don’t think so guys.”

  Both men laughed. “Kid has some cahones on him, ehh Larry?” Mohawk told his companion.

  Larry the hulk laughed. “Yeah Sid, let’s bust ‘em up.”

  Sid pulled out a switchblade and came at Johnny. He thrust the knife at him but Johnny ducked and slammed the briefcase into Sid’s nose, causing blood to erupt from his nostrils like a geyser. He fell to his knees and started cursing. Then Larry came at him. He lashed his chain at Johnny who moved to avoid getting hit by it. Larry started grunting like a gorilla and moved in on Johnny, who was running out of room to move. Meanwhile, Sid had gotten to his feet and had a murderous look on his face.

  Sweat clung to Johnny’s back and he felt his heart pumping hard in his chest. Sid came at him again and elbowed Johnny in the side of his face. Johnny shook it off but seconds later Larry’s chain wrapped itself around his ankle and Johnny found his feet sliding out from under him. His head banged against the surface of his briefcase but he remained in the fight. Sid launched a steel-tipped boot at him but Johnny grabbed the man’s ankle and twisted it with all his strength. Sid cried out in pain and crashed into Larry who lost his footing and banged his head against the side of a dumpster, knocking himself out. Sid was trying to get up but Johnny blindsided him in the face with the briefcase which knocked him to the ground. He lay docile on the concrete next to the unconscious Larry.

  A sense of pride, something he hadn’t felt in ages, rose within Johnny as he gazed victoriously upon his vanquished foes. Then the holographic alley disappeared, and he found himself back in Training Room 2.

  “You’ve completed the first part of your holographic character training, Mr. Veto,” Patrice’s voice said through the intercom speaker. “You may now exit the Training Room, you’re done for today.

  Inside the control room Argos looked over Johnny’s test scores. “Johnny is on course to breaking some AL training records.”

  Patrice was busy at her station. Her fingers dancing across the touch screen monitor. “You seem overly pleased, Agent Better. Do I detect a personal bias?”

  “C’mon Patrice. Even you can’t be oblivious to his talent. He’s passed all his psychological tests with flying colors. And I’m pretty sure he’ll make it through the physical training too. So, what do you have against this kid anyway?”

  Patrice turned away from her monitor. “I have nothing against Mr. Veto. But I fail to see what’s so special about him. He’s just another AL candidate.”

  Argos smirked. “You forget, that’s Scott Veto’s son. And we all know the type of man Scott was. Admit it, you’re a little jealous of our new golden boy.”

  Patrice scoffed at Argos’ remark. “He’s a capable recruit, but I have nothing to be envious about. I’m his trainer, I cannot get emotionally invested in his results. If he passes, then we’ll have another capable Time-Healer, if not, we’ll simply move on to other qualified candidates.”

  Argos shook his head ruefully at Patrice’s indifference. “I’m transmitting these results to Otis, he needs to take a closer look at this kid.”

  “As you wish Agent Better, but I think you’re letting your personal feelings for this boy affect your judgement. Besides, he still has advanced weapons training and engineering studies to complete before he’s granted provisional field agent status. And, he still has to complete three successful missions in the field before being awarded full operational status as an American Legends Time-Healer.”

  Argos thought about what Johnny had told him in the recreation room earlier today. About Patrice being ‘Mechanical.’ You may be onto something there Johnny.

  (2)

  After two weeks of psychological and physical training, Johnny was on the cusp of completing his training. He had aced the advanced weapons training, and Murdoc had tutored him so that he could complete his engineering studies. One final hurdle remained: an advanced mission simulation where he was in charge of a Time-Healing excursion. This would be a timed exercise, and Argos, Jessie and Studs were on hand to wish him luck. As always, Patrice only offered her gelid expression.

  “The trick to beating the simulation is not overthinking the time constraints. In a real-life mission when faced with an emergency situation you won’t have the luxury of worrying about time.” Argos shook Johnny’s hand. “Good luck.”

  Patrice activated the holographic program and the simulation began. The training room disappeared and Johnny found himself staring at an oil field. In the distance fires were blazing across a barren landscape as large clouds of black smoke bore into the sky like a trident. He checked the time gauge on the HUD: The date was January 31, 1991. The Gulf War. Right around the time when his father and Argos had met and became good friends. His HUD helmet spit out the mission briefing: He was to de-mine a stretch of highway where a Coalition convoy would pass through. The indicator marker on his helmet gave him directions to the minefield. There were twenty mines and the convoy would arrive in thirty minutes.

  Instructions were provided on how to diffuse the mines. Johnny’s memory enabled him to easily grasp the instructions and begin his work. Things were going smoothly until an explosion announced itself. It shook the ground beneath him and almost caused him to drop one of the mines he was diffusing. “This is getting exciting,” he muttered sarcastically.

  His HUD helmet indicated four Iraqi T-72 tanks approaching from the west. They would arrive in less than ten minutes. Not enough time for him to diffuse all the mines. He continued his work at a faster pace, while keeping his nerves in check.

  Five minutes later he heard aircraft above him. The HUD detected two American F-15 Eagles. But the sky was dark with the smoke from the burning oilfields, and he could not make visual contact.

  He could now see the tanks. They were converging on him like a herd of rhinos. His HUD indicated he still had twelve more mines to disarm. Don’t panic. Remember the training. Remember the training.

  He heard the F-15s again and realized that he could communicate with them through his wristlink. After breathing a sigh of relief, Johnny opened a communication uplink with one of the pilots. “Can you hear me?” he said.

  There was static and then he heard the voice on the other end. “Please identify yourself.”

  “Johnny Veto. U.S. Army. I am currently engaged in demining operations. Can you assist me?”

  He heard static again before the pilot spoke again: “Affirmative. Will radio for backup.”

  The F-15s zoomed over him for the 3rd time. Backup? What does that mean? Can’t they take out those tanks with a smart bomb or something?

  The tanks got closer, but he pushed them from his mind before a loud sound of jets flying over him caused him to look up. These weren’t supersonic jets, but his HUD recognized them as four A-10 Thunderbolt IIs, or ‘Warthogs’ as they were nicknamed. The F-15s must’ve radioed them since they were better equipped to the T-72s. Johnny stopped what he was doing to watch the Warthogs do their work—as their missiles and rockets annihilated the Iraqi T-72s—before continuing on their course. The T-72s were now a charred cluster of burning hulks and twisted metal.

  Relieved that the threat of death had dissipated, he disarmed the last mine. The simulation ended and he exhaled before removing his helmet.

  “That was fast thinking, Johnny,” Argos said over the intercom. He was happy that his new friend had taken an interest in his training, and relieved that he hadn’t done anything to disappoint Argos, the guy had become more than just his sponsor, he
’d become a buddy. And Jessie and Studs weren’t half bad either.

  The door to the simulation room opened and Patrice walked in. “I am pleased to announce that you have completed your required AL training Mr. Veto. Congratulations. You shall be put on the active duty roster as a provisional agent and receive your first mission briefing tomorrow.”

  (3)

  Later that evening, in his quarters, while writing his mother an e-mail, a HoverBot brought Johnny a beige field jacket. “You are to wear this on all AL missions,” it said before leaving. After finishing up his e-mail and sending it off, Johnny accessed the database to check his test scores. He noticed that his scores were highlighted in green. He asked the computer for clarity and it displayed an all-time ranking list of AL recruit scores.

  His name was ranked 1st.

  Patrice was 2nd.

  “Damn,” he said, nearly falling out of his chair. “How bout that?”

  “Don’t let it go to your head, Johnny.”

  He turned around and Argos was standing there. Alongside him were Jessie and Studs. “You snuck up on me Argos.”

  Argos sat down on a desk chair. “I’ve always been against giving access to test scores immediately upon graduation from AL training. It tends to inflate egos and make some operatives careless.”

  “I was just curious, that’s all.” He stretched out his arms; the final day of his training had been taxing. “It’s just that I’ve never finished first in any test.”

  Argos took a seat next to Johnny and assumed a somber manner. “Now that you’re officially one of us, I’m going to be upfront with you: some operatives have died during their early missions. They forgot their training, and stormed in all gung-ho. The next thing you know we’re notifying their relatives that they’ve been KIA. And these are men and women with extensive scientific or military backgrounds.”

  “I’m sure there were a lot better qualified candidates out there. But you guys don’t seem to make mistakes, do you? My scores pretty much proved that.”

  “Your psychological scores were the highest to date,” Argos began, “it’s true you don’t have any of the normal qualifications a typical AL candidate would bring to the table, but our director wanted to shake up the status quo by bringing in civilian prospects to see how they’d perform. He felt we were missing out on qualified, yet overlooked, members of the population. I’m happy to say you were the first civilian selected who passed.”

  Johnny smiled. “That’s almost as satisfying as beating Patrice’s scores. I bet she wasn’t too happy about that.” Both Jessie and Studs barked and Johnny took that as an indication that she wasn’t.

  “Let’s just say that she wasn’t thrilled about it. Keep in mind she’s not used to coming in 2nd in anything. Her success has come at a price though. Being overly-ambitious can wreak havoc on anyone’s psyche, and she’s no different. Just make sure that you’re careful not to bring it up around her, Johnny. The last thing we need is friction between you two. The three of us will be working closely from this point forward.”

  Jessie and Studs barked. Argos looked at them and shrugged. “Excuse me,” he told the dogs, “I meant the five of us.”

  “Now get some rest Johnny, tomorrow morning you’ll be expected to attend your first mission briefing. We’ll be taking Gina out on a search operation.”

  (3)

  The briefing room was a large conference table equipped with built-in view screens for each seated participant, while an oval shaped ceiling dotted with circular lights provided illumination and completed its streamlined look. Patrice was waiting for them while a HoverBot brought coffee.

  “This is where the fun begins, Johnny,” Argos said.

  Johnny took a seat next to Argos as the aroma of the coffee teased his nostrils. He was too excited to drink coffee, and wondered if his father had used this briefing room for his mission briefings.

  “Good morning Agents Better and Veto,” Patrice said. The lights to the room dimmed and Johnny’s view screen came alive. “Today’s briefing is about an informant of ours who’s been violating his agreement with AL Command.” A projector-like device descended from the ceiling and projected images onto a screen.

  “What is that?” Johnny said, pointing to a strange-looking alien on the screen.

  Argos whispered into his ear. “I know it’s your first briefing but you should really try and contain your excitement. Patrice doesn’t like having her presentations interrupted.”

  “Sorry,” Johnny said.

  “That, Mr. Veto,” Patrice said, “is a Xenaroid. They’re an insectoid species from Xenar IV. A planet 23 light years from Earth. They’re renowned throughout the galaxy as the most efficient assassins.” She ordered the projector to enlarge the display, which showed a centipede-like creature with red eyes. It wore two bandoliers and had two large antennae protruding from its head. “This is Dicer. He’s been hiding out on Earth for the past two years; a member of our AL witness protection program for providing us with valuable information. Unfortunately, one of our SpyBots has detected him starting wildfires outside of Bakersfield. You two are to apprehend him and find out why he’s violated the terms of our agreement.”

  “I know Dicer,” Argos said, “I was the one who helped broker his deal. He’s a shifty creep.” Argos turned towards Johnny. “You should gain some good experience on this first mission.”

  “Dicer’s last known coordinates have been provided to Gina, Agent Better. You and Agent Veto are to proceed immediately. Any questions?”

  Johnny raised his hand. “Don’t we get like, guns or something? This Dicer doesn’t look like someone who’ll come along quietly.”

  “Agent Better will brief you on field equipment protocols,” Patrice replied automatically. “Good luck to you both.”

  “So where exactly are you taking me Argos?”

  “Armory Room One.”

  After passing through an armed security checkpoint, they arrived in front of a large vault door. Argos entered a code into a door keypad and it hissed open.

  Inside were rows of strange-looking gadgets. Both Jessie and Studs barked before heading inside.

  Johnny’s eyes took in its contents. “What the…?”

  “I knew you’d find it interesting. This is where AL agents gear up before missions.”

  “To say I’m impressed would be an understatement.” Johnny removed a small pistol from a rack. “Lemme guess…a ray gun?”

  Argos nodded. “Correct. It’s a Mercury-Class gravity pistol. Specially designed to ruin any bad guy’s day.”

  “Hope I’m going to receive some advanced weapons training,” Johnny replied. “Otherwise, I’ll probably end up frying my ass if I tried using one of these gadgets.”

  “Of course you will.” Argos pressed a key on the wall and a panel opened up. Inside was a strange device that looked like a metallic headband with earbuds attached to it. “We call it a holographic training node. It creates a weapons training program specially designed for training new personnel. When you’re done with it you’ll be ready to use just about any field weapon in the AL arsenal.” Argos removed the training node from inside the panel and placed it on Johnny’s head. “Your wristlink is designed for instantaneous uplink with it. And I can walk you through any problems on my end.”

  “So how does it work?”

  “Press the green key on your wristlink.”

  Johnny did so. For a moment he felt his head spin but the sensation passed. He found himself on a shooting range. “Make sure you stay calm during this shooting exercise, the computer will simulate hits. Make sure you hit your targets before they have a chance to shoot you first, and make sure you protect any civilians you come across,” Argos said into Johnny’s earbud. “Ready?”

  “Yup.”

  “Begin.”

  A second later a man wearing a grey fedora and trench coat appeared and pulled out a shotgun. Johnny trained his weapon on the man and fired. He registered a hit and his target disappeared. S
econds later, two men on motorcycles came at him. He dived out of the way just in time to avoid being run down. The bikers laughed at him and came around again for another pass. This time they both had whips in their hands. The first whip came at him like a striking serpent but he ducked, causing it to fly harmlessly past his head. He fired at the biker and registered a direct hit, causing the man to fly off his bike. One down, Johnny thought. The other biker was almost upon him though and Johnny fired at the man’s head. He missed and the biker stuck out his elbow and nailed Johnny in the shoulder, sending him sprawling to the ground. The bike screeched to a halt and the man pulled out a spiked club from a leather pouch strapped to the back of his motorcycle.

  Johnny was dazed and the world spun around him like a ferris wheel. He saw the biker walking towards him. A smile on his bearded face beneath a set of sunglasses that hid his eyes. His pistol was a foot away from him but his head still hurt. The man kicked Johnny’s weapon away and raised the club over his head. “Bye-bye, punk!”

  “Wait a minute!”

  The biker turned around and there stood an old woman with a cane. “What are you planning to do with that club there young man?” she asked the biker.

  “Beat it old woman,” the biker said. “Or you’ll be next!”

  The old woman shook her head. “Now no need to be rude there, son.”

  Johnny was feeling more composed and he saw the biker had his back turned to him. “If you don’t beat it you’ll regret it!” he told the old woman.

  Johnny rose to his feet slowly. His anger rising in his chest after witnessing how the biker was speaking to the old woman.

  “Alright lady, you asked for it!” the biker then raised his club at her.

  Johnny pounced on the biker’s back and wrapped his arm around the man’s thick neck. The biker dropped his club and tried prying Johnny off, but the teen would not let go. The old woman, seeing Johnny’s situation landed her cane into the biker’s knee. The man roared in pain and lost his balance. Johnny kept his hold on the man’s neck and as soon as they hit the ground, Johnny grabbed the man by his hair and slammed his head against the curb.