“So what’s ‘Hoss’ short for?” I glared at my new employer distrustfully, eying him from head to toe to red tie pin. When he’d first said, “Call me Hoss,” I’d heard, “ Call me Boss.” I don’t take too kindly to that sort of thing. I still couldn’t tell if he was just messing with me or not.
“Thomas,” he replied, unfazed, “the ‘H’ is usually silent. Might as well use it for something.”
Whether or not this man was serious was so beyond me at this point that I decided to ignore him unless it was absolutely necessary. I nodded in suspicious acknowledgement and turned back to my weapon, polishing her long white barrel with my sleeve.
My employer — ‘Hoss’ — held his hands out like he was making a picture frame and squinted through them down at the desert train-tracks below. The faint sound of the 905’s whistle drifted into earshot as it bared down toward our canyon perch. It would’ve been downright peaceful up here if not for the noise and Hoss the Boss. And the job.
“You ready, Mountain Dew?”
I whirled on Hoss, openmouthed, “What did you just call me?”
“Can’t tell if your hair’s green or yellow.”
I actually couldn’t fault him for this one. My dye-job had been so bad I couldn’t not acknowledge it.
I shrugged and jumped off the edge of the canyon. Sometimes the smartest thing to do is leave the conversation.
The aluminum plates on my arms sensed my fall and elongated on either side of my body. They began spinning, whirling around and around connected to a rotator that circumferenced my torso and upper arms. Mirrors on the underside of the blades reflected the canyon to cloak my descent.
“Not bad, M.D.,” Hoss sailed down next to me, riding a military-grade Suspension Board, its silent rockets evoking much envy. Wow. Robbing a military truck was no small feat.
The train roared closer and closer, until at last, my holographic boots landed on hot metal. The metal blades of my CopterSuit returned to small aluminum plates on my arms. Hoss touched down a moment later next to me.
Wordlessly, we ran the length of the train, leaping from car to car.
“FREEZE!” the train’s Guard-Bot stood behind us, gun aimed at our backs. Hoss and I skidded to a stop, hands up. Guard-Bots could be tricky; the conductor had probably installed impact detectors on roof of the train car.
I cut my eyes as far as I could to look out my peripheries. Hoss stood sweating, biting his lip.
Guess this one was mine.
I let my legs give way to duck as fast as I could. I popped the barrel of my gun so that swirled up to aimed directly behind me and screamed the voice-activated command: “FIRE!”
A dramatic blast erupted from my weapon and a shard of mirror zipped through the air to implant itself in the Guard-Bot’s chest — which fired it’s gun to no avail. There was a sucking, popping sound and the Guard-Bot was gobbled away into the mirror shard. Trapped forever until the shard was broken.
Hoss let out a low whistle. “How’d you know he wasn’t going to hit me?”
I looked him dead in the eye. “I didn’t.”
Hoss pouted. “I’m docking your pay for that!”
I waved my hand nonchalantly. It wouldn’t matter. He’d offered a fortune for this job.
We hopped onto the tiny platform connecting the train-cars and pushed open the door, slowly.
A rush of cold air puffed across our bodies. Cautiously, we stepped inside.
Surrounding us from ever nook and cranny of the car — stacked to the ceiling! — were magnificent roses in every color.
“This is what you’re paying me to help you steal?” the feeling that Hoss was yanking my chain grew stronger.
“My girl wants flowers for our wedding. Only thing she wants: Flowers. Where am I supposed to find that in this desert? Found out about this shipment for the Party Leader’s wedding in the papers — he won’t mind if a few bouquets go missing —”
SCREECH!
Horrible metallic screeches erupted as Guard-Bots unfolded themselves from trapdoors in the car’s floor. We were utterly surrounded.
Before I could breathe, Hoss smashed his red tie pin. Hot electric bolts shot out in every direction, sizzling all the Guard-Bots into fried scrap-metal.
“How’d you know that wasn’t going to hit me?” I asked, bewildered by the level of tech.
Hoss looked me dead in the eye: “I didn’t.”
Touché.
I stepped forward and gently brushed a rose petal with the tip of my finger, taking in its gentle fragrance. All and all, a beautiful ending.
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