Transitions II

"Welcome back. Our topic for the day, as I'm sure you've guessed, is the upcoming book 'The Rallsburg Diaries', from Pro Paradigm Publishing. Whitney, your thoughts?"

"This has got to be the biggest marketing campaign I've ever seen."

"You really think it's just a big advertisement?"

"Oh come on. Magic? This is a whole lot of bull just to sell a book."

"I dunno. These are real, award-winning journalists, not clickbait artists. They're putting their reputation on the line."

"Plus the FBI response."

"I thought they didn't comment."

"Exactly. They'd deny it if it were fake. They're looking into this, and that's reason enough to give it some credit. Benefit of the doubt, at least."

"But, come on… magic?"

"I'm just saying, I feel something in the air. Felt it ever since Rallsburg blew up and no one could tell us how. This could be it."

"Fucking Christ," he shouted, straining from the effort. Holding up this kind of weight was one thing, but holding up with just his mind was something else entirely.

"You said magic is a tool without limit. The only limit is your endurance. Why can you not lift this?" asked his partner, watching him with a bored expression. She had her rifle out, inspecting every inch yet again with her trained eye.

"She has a point," added their boss, watching from a set of monitors hooked up to the sensors plastering his skin. "By all measurements you aren't strained physically in the slightest. Just an elevated heart rate. What's holding you back here?"

"Neither of you fucks can do this," Viper growled. He finally released the weight, letting out a huge breath as he did. It clanged back onto the struts, echoing through the room. He glared at the other two. "Cut a guy some slack."

"Competitive advantage, Stefen," replied Cornelius Malton, young and fit with short brown hair. He was only thirty-two, but still in charge of one of the largest conglomerates in the world. He leaned over the monitors, watching the numbers change with an air of actually understanding what they meant. "I agreed to keep this from our R&D group, but that means you've got to give me more."

"Are you having trouble performing?" Rook asked, the glint in her ice-blue eyes contrasting her otherwise stone-cold face. If he didn't know her so well, he'd assume she was asking a serious question. Unless she was undercover, her sense of humor was dry as the deserts she hated so much.

Viper laid back against the cold metal bench, breathing heavily. "That much weight would be impossible for me to lift for real. This shit ain't easy."

"The delay effect seems to be diminishing as well," Malton added, glancing over his readouts. "When we started, you were able to cast spells without any immediate exhaustion or pain. But each time, you've felt the effects more quickly." He frowned. "Even though you can lift more with practice, you seem to be getting worse."

"Well fuck. So this shit does have limits."

"But why?" Malton asked to no one in particular. "What's the connection?"

"It is pain," said Rook, leaning back against the wall with her rifle up against her shoulder, pointed skyward. "He cannot control it."

"Fuck you, Tess. I can do pain."

"No, I mean it is pain like a baby feels pain."

"You callin' me a bab—"

Rook spoke over him. "Why do babies cry?"

"Because they're fuckin' babies?"

"Why?" asked Malton, equally ignoring Viper.

"Because they are feeling the most pain they have ever felt in their lives, though it is nothing to you and me. In the same way they do not know to avoid a flame, pain is learned. We do not know pain when we are born."

"So you're saying that this sort of magic exhaustion is learned as well?"

She shrugged. "I do not know. I am not awakened. But it seems the same. When he first cast his spells, he only felt the pain as the effects subsided. But his brain has learned. It rejects pushing himself too far, as mine rejects trying to punch a wall with such force that my knuckles would break."

"So I gotta overcome that," said Viper.

"I suppose."

"It's not unheard of," said Malton, nodding slowly. "The human jaw is more than capable of shattering every tooth you have in your mouth, but our brains keep us from exerting that level of force. If we could reduce that reluctance somehow…" he wondered aloud. "Painkillers for magic?"

"Or I could just get drunk," shrugged Viper.

"Let's not, please."

"You are trying to beat the survival instinct of the human mind," said Rook. "I do not expect it will be so easy."

"Well, we've got all the time in the world."

At that moment, Malton's phone rang. They all looked at it in surprise. His staff was under clear instructions not to bother him unless it was of the utmost importance. Viper sat up, wiping his brow with a towel. "If this is about the fuckin' Laushires again," he started.

"I told them that could wait. They know how to deal with dear Thomas' libelous accusations," said Malton mildly, raising the phone to his ear. "This is Cornelius."

"Is it libel if every word he says is the truth?" asked Rook dryly.

"Even Laushire doesn't believe what he's saying, though," said Viper. "Just 'cause we do have an inside man in their whole fuckin' network that they can't do a damn thing about." He grinned. "You know they actually paid to replace every computer in the whole building?"

"I did."

"Poor fuckin' IT nerds. All that work and it didn't change a damn thing."

"I'm pleased our trip wasn't wasted."

Viper was about to say something else, but Malton held up his hand. "Right now?" he asked. "...I see. Do we know who it is?"

"Who what is?"

Malton shook his head. "Thank you. Keep me informed." He hung up.

"Cor?" asked Viper uneasily. Malton looked surprised. Sure, his boss was good at improvising under pressure, but they all preferred a nice clean plan to last minute upheaval.

"...Change of plans," he said at last.

Viper sighed. "Well Tess, you win this round."

"Win what?" Malton asked.

"We were bettin' on how long it'd take for the news to break." He nodded at his partner. "Tess said six months, I said January. I was thinkin' winter would drive 'em out in the open."

"You already know?"

"No shit. We know they didn't die." He shrugged. "What's the plan, then?"

"Get back out there. Bring me someone who won't be missed. A volunteer if it's possible, but anyone will do. No beating around the bush this time."

Viper nodded. He glanced over at Rook, wondering how she felt about it. He felt a little uneasy about handing someone over to the scientists to be examined and probably cut open. She was as stone-faced as the day he met her in Afghanistan. He didn't know much about her past (or even her real name — it definitely wasn't Tessa Hunter), but he knew she'd bounced around so many countries as a child that she'd never had a real home.

They'd ended up a team, a sniper-spotter pair despite the reluctance from the brass to make a mixed-gender duo that would spend weeks totally alone in the field. Idiots. She was a consummate professional, and Viper had never worked with someone more dedicated or effective at her craft. In spite of every hurdle, every idiotic decision made by sexist or simply incompetent COs, she excelled. When his childhood friend Cornelius Malton had called him up, offering him a cushy position as a private contractor with full control over the missions he accepted, it was a no-brainer to get Tessa in on the deal.

These days, he had no idea what Rook did with her free time. He spent most of his at his favorite pub, enjoying his status as the only American in the area and picking up girls, trying to enjoy every last moment of a life he'd nearly lost a dozen times over, and probably would a dozen more times before he made it to forty.

It was the life he chose, and every time he punched out on a chopper, felt the adrenaline of a real firefight, or even just the cool gratification of getting in and out totally unnoticed with Rook on his heels, Stefen Gearhardt was pretty satisfied with his life.

They prepped and packed up their gear for the trip. This was a snatch job, not an execution, so Viper didn't bother bringing a whole lot of lethal firepower. If they got into anything heavy, they'd retreat. With what they could be up against, he couldn't be sure guns would even be effective in a real fight. Who knew what those fuckers had come up with since he'd left?

Tranquilizer rifles and pistols, tasers. His trusty Beretta and Benelli combo from his days in the Marines before being assigned to Rook. He figured ol' Nelli was probably his best bet against the golems, since spread and stopping power were more important than range and penetration. Besides, if they really needed range, Rook always had her rifle.

No matter where she went, in the whole world, Rook's rifle was never more than a couple dozen feet away. Viper honestly believed she probably slept with it even at home, though he'd never dare to find out. It was an M/28-30 rifle, the Finnish variant of the classic Russian Mosin Nagant. Despite being outdated and even declared obsolete, Rook somehow cleared the rifle for use in the field through sheer exceptional marksmanship. She'd installed modern scopes onto the rifle herself, tuning them and re-tuning them endlessly, and she never missed a shot under a thousand meters. Even well beyond that range, he'd spotted for her to land shots with her wooden rifle that put modern arms to shame, a piece of history she'd carried with her everywhere.

The squad loaded up onto one of Malton's private jets, which he'd tasked to them for the duration of the mission. They'd land at a strip in Canada, unload and regroup with their chopper pilot.

"Back to fuckin' Rallsburg, huh?" he commented.

Rook made a noncommittal noise of agreement, staring out the window at the clouds.

"You good?"

"It is just another mission."

He glanced around the empty plane cabin. "We're alone, Tess. Talk to me."

She sighed, finally looking back at him. He was the only one she ever seemed to let her hair down around—metaphorically speaking. Her pale blonde hair barely made it past her ears, and she never put it up in the first place. "Our last mission changed him."

"You mean Malton?"

"Yes. He has lost his focus."

"What focus is that? He was runnin' a business, and he still is unless I'm mistaken."

"Not that. His business is fine. It is his goals. He was trying to make the world a better place. He had a vision, and now his vision is tainted."

"Tainted by magic, you mean?"

"Yes. I think he has let visions of personal power cloud his judgment. He was already a man in control of the world, but now he wants control over nature itself. I fear this."

"What about me? I'm awakened."

"We have already discussed this."

Viper shook his head. "You brushed me off, Tess. Time to spill the beans."

"I believe you spilled the beans first."

He rolled his eyes. "That was one fuckin' time, and I said I was sorry."

The corner of her mouth twitched slightly before she went on. "I do not know Malton, so I do not trust him. I know you."

"Do you now?" He grinned.

"More than I wish to."

"Ouch."

Her face broke into an actual smile, something so rare that Viper had only seen it twice before. Once, when she'd first passed the qualification tests for sniper, and again when he'd invited her to come work for Malton. He couldn't say what had brought it on this time, but it warmed his heart.

"If there was a man in the world who was responsible enough to handle such power, I would choose you."

"...What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what power means. How it can affect people. I have seen how you treat such power."

"This ain't like guns."

"Not just our weapons." Rook turned back to look out the window again. "I trust you, Stefen. So if you say that Malton is a good man, I will follow your word."

"We're splittin' up though."

She stared back at him as if he'd said something stupid. Which, after a moment, Viper realized was pretty much true. He shrugged. "I don't fuckin' know who's good or bad. So if you think we're steppin' over the line, you tell me. Agreed?"

"Agreed."