"Famous last words." Happy pulled the trigger. A few seconds later a biker tumbled off his rumble bike, flailing backward like a rag doll. His comrades swerved to avoid running over him.
"Nice shot!"
Happy didn't reply. Perfectly poised, she tracked the next target and fired again. Another biker tanked, slamming into the ground in a cloud of dust and broken earth.
"Got more company behind them."
Cash spotted the massive, six-wheeled military relic rumbling behind the bikers. Larger than the Blunderbore, it was reinforced with rusted plate armor and armed with a heavy machine gun manned by a maniac in black leather with brightly colored spiky hair. Other ravagers hung onto netting attached to the sides of the lumbering combat vehicle.
"Well, I was getting bored anyway." Cash leaped inside the Blunderbore, remotely linking the gun to Deejay's control. "I'm going for the big one. Cover me."
Happy never took her eye from the scope. "I got your six."
Cash slammed on the gas, surprised at the level of ease he felt with Happy. It had been a long time since he had someone watch his back. Not since being on the force, working side by side with Vardis. The two of them in the trenches of Los Diablos, kicking ass and taking names.
No. Don't even think about it. Those days are over. And the woman is an assassin, Cash. She'll probably try to blow your brains out whenever this is over. Never trust. Never again.
He focused on the attackers instead. A gang of ten or twelve bikers up front. He wasn't worried about them. They swerved wildly, aware they were being sniped and trying to make themselves difficult to target. A few noticed Cash and fired volleys of scattered gunfire, but only a few rounds managed to ricochet off the Blunderbore's armored hide. The closest biker's helmet exploded, courtesy of Happy's expert aim. His body was already limp by the time he bounced off the dusty ground.
Cash tapped the com in his ear. "Okay, Deejay. You got the gun. Show these guys we're not fooling around."
"Got it."
The Browning machine gun opened fire with an explosive roar. Even from inside the cabin, the noise was near-deafening. The nearest rumble bikes shredded under the barrage, the rounds tearing through metal almost as easily as flesh. The shots that missed tore the ground apart, kicking up blasts of crumbled earth.
The remaining bikers scattered, fleeing back toward the town or simply finding anywhere else to be other than targets for the combination of the Blunderbore's devastating rounds and Deejay's uncanny targeting. Cash drove through their ranks, headed toward the combat wheeler. The ravager handling the gun jerked twice when Happy's shots punctured his chest.
This almost isn't fair, Cash thought as he wheeled the Blunderbore for a flanking run. The ravagers on the side of the combat transport fired repeatedly, but their rounds bounced off his vehicle's armored plating.
A side panel popped open on the enemy transport. A ravager with a shoulder-mounted rocket launcher leaned out and whooped as he fired the weapon. Cash didn't have time to even think before the impact struck like a giant sledgehammer. The side window splintered, searing heat flashed, and he was slung to the other side of the cab. The world turned upside down, the stench of scorched metal stung his nostrils.
He struggled to free himself. The seat had collapsed, the door buckled, pinning his arm. Outside, the ravagers spilled from the transport, running toward the Blunderbore firing their weapons. Bullets pinged off the shell and thick polycarbonate glass. But he knew it was only a matter of time before the rounds started to penetrate.
"Deejay." He tried to free his arm, but it remained painfully pinned. "Need a little help."
Her voice buzzed in his ear. "The ravagers are using their transport to block Happy's line of sight. She's maneuvering for a better shot. But don't worry. Backup's on the way."
Cash glanced outside the window. The ravager with the rocket launcher shoved his way through the crowd of screaming shooters. He spotted Cain and aimed his weapon with a twisted leer.
"Come on out, boy! You done messed up when you shot down the Judge's nephew. You damn sure did."
Cash pounded on the busted seat, finally freeing his arm. "I didn't kill anyone. Can't you idiots tell the difference between a woman and a man?"
The ravager paused, face wrinkled up in confusion. He waved his fellows in for a hurried conference. When they broke, he stepped closer and crouched, craning sideways to look at Cash.
"Okay. Maybe it weren't you that did the shooting. Tell ya what — you give us the bitch that did and we'll let ya live. Whaddya say?"
Cash's kept his gaze on the ravager while his hand scrambled over the deck, searching for his sidearm. "The woman you're looking for is the one that's been sniping you guys like flies. I got no problem with you taking her off my hands. She's been a royal pain in the ass the whole time she's been here."
The ravager flashed a mouthful of dirty teeth. "Then it's a deal. You call her over here, and we'll take her down."
Cash's hand closed on his firearm. "I got a better idea."
He raised the gun, aimed at the ravager's head and pulled the trigger. The retort boomed, nearly splitting his eardrums. Wincing, he squinted at the damage.
The bullet was stuck in the window of the cab, splintering the glass. Cash groaned.
The ravager tsked and shook his head. "Now that weren’t nice. Weren't nice at all. Guess I gotta kill ya."
An electrical hum was the only answer. Mateo leaped over the Blunderbore, wielding his arcsaber, the bluish laser edge sizzling with every movement. One swipe and the rocket launcher split in two. Another flash and the ravager wielding it suffered the same fate. Mateo somehow avoided being shot despite being in the middle of a swarm of attackers all firing at point-blank range. It was as if he moved at twice the speed they did. There was never a movement wasted, no hesitation or fear. His combat skills were simply on a different level. Most of the ravager's rounds hit each other instead of touching him. He flowed from one to the next, never still for a moment, arcsaber cutting through their ranks with unnatural ease.
By the time Cash kicked the cab door open, the fight was over. The survivors ran or drove their bikes back toward the town, throwing fearful looks behind them as they fled. Mateo stood in the middle of a dozen fallen bodies, a fierce look on his face. Cash stood silently for a moment, studying his new partner. He had no idea how someone could have developed such deadly skills at that age. Or what he would do if Mateo suddenly decided to break bad.
"Thanks for the help."
Mateo turned, changing almost miraculously from a hardened warrior to a boyish teen once more. A pleased grin flashed across his face. "Hi, Cash. Deejay said you needed a hand."
Cash eyed the carnage and nodded. "Yeah. Looks like I got it. You killed a lot of people, kid."
Mateo eyed the bodies and nodded. "Yeah. But they were bad."
"That's it, huh? What makes a person bad, kid?"
Mateo shut down his arcsaber and holstered it. "When they do bad things, Cash."
"I know that, Mateo. I'm just trying to see how you make the determination. Where you draw the line. How your moral compass is calibrated."
The wind tugged at Mateo's silky black hair when he turned to look at Cash, face suddenly mature and thoughtful. "The Sister taught me to fight back when I'm attacked or when my friends are. We're friends, aren't we?"
"Yeah. We're friends, kid. But this is a lot. Killing takes something out of you. It eats at your humanity. I know."
"The Sister says that killing can be a mercy. That without reapers the weeds would overrun the fields."
"Is that right? Who is this Sister? She the one who raised you? Where is she now?"