Non-Linear Story Telling

He was so excited to be free of work for a few days.  He quickly decided once again that whoever invented weekends deserved to live in one perpetually.  Then he realized that, as far as he knew, it was just as likely that at one time, everyone lived in a perpetual weekend, then some jerk came along and invented the work week.  He quickly decided that whoever invented the work week deserved to live in one perpetually.

As he was pulling into the parking lot of the theater, he felt his pocket buzzing.  He quickly found a spot, parked his car, and pulled his phone out of his pocket.  "Hello?"

"Hey.  We just got to the theater."

"Me too," he responded with less enthusiasm than he actually felt.

"We'll save you a seat if you grab the popcorn."

"Deal," he said with a bit more enthusiasm than he actually felt.

"Sweet."  His sister hung up.

He loved spending time with his siblings and he had really been looking forward to seeing this movie.  The thought briefly crossed his mind that he needed to make sure they paid him back for the popcorn, but some quick calculations reminded him just how pointless balancing a relationship financially with someone you would be around for years.  It all worked out eventually.

He got into the theater, said hi to his brother, sister, and sister-in-law, passed the popcorn around, then took his seat and settled in to watch the previews.

He stifled a yawn as he felt the week catching up with him.

He leaned over to his sister and whispered, "Kick me when the movie starts."  She smiled and gave him a thumbs up, so he settled back into his chair.

And he closed his eyes.

"Wake up, dummy!"

He slowly opened his eyes and stood up.  "I'm up," he said drowsily.  "I'm up."

As the world came into focus, he made out that Sharpshot was sitting across the cabin from him, cleaning the barrel of an unnecessarily large rifle.  "Did you have a nice nap, princess?"  He waved her off, trying to ignore her typical condescension.

He walked to the front of the plane to talk to the pilot.  "How far are we from the drop zone?"

The pilot consulted a dial in front of him.  "Looks like you've got about two minutes."

He nodded to the pilot before returning to his seat, retrieving a long scimitar on the way.  As he sat down and began sharpening, he could see Sharpshot growing ever more irritated at him.  He knew she hated the sound of him sharpening his sword and truly loved anything that gave him an opportunity to make her uncomfortable.

A red light began flashing at thirty seconds from the drop zone.  It was followed fifteen seconds later by a siren as the bay door opened.  Thirteen seconds after that, Sharpshot ran for the open door, passing the parachutes without a second glance, and leapt gracefully from the plane.  Three seconds later, a column of dark smoke followed her.

It didn't take long for Haze to catch up with his partner.  He surrounded her and began slowing her descent.  By the time they reached the ground, she landed so softly, even Primadame couldn't have heard her.

Hopefully neither could their target.

As he rematerialized next to Sharpshot, Haze took in the scene now surrounding them.  It was chaotic to say the least.  Some kind of hostage situation was going down and a huge squadron of police cars were lighting up the night.  The office building they had surrounded was dark save one window on the fourth floor.  When Sharpshot nodded at the window, Haze nodded back to her and approached an officer who had the air of authority about him.  A quick flash of his badge identifying him as a member of the League gave the two nexters all the power they needed to bypass the local authorities and fly straight up to the window.

As they got close to the fourth floor, Sharpshot casually shot out the illuminated window and Haze sat her down inside, heralded by a chorus of hostages' screams.

Then he saw her.

Melanie Menteur was standing in an open doorway across the room.

His heart sank.  He knew that a crawler was involved in the situation, and he had been trying his absolute best to mentally prepare himself for the inevitable moment that his and Sharpshot's hunt would lead to an encounter with his old flame.  But he wasn't prepared.

Not in the least.

Melanie smiled at him and began crossing the room.  Before she had taken two steps, however, Sharpshot had drawn the rifle she had been cleaning on the plane and trained it on her head.  Melanie's smile only faded briefly as she slowly raised her hands over her head.  "It's nice to see you too, Sharps."

"You don't get to play to nice anymore, bitch," Sharpshot responded bitterly.

Haze realized what was happening a half-second after Sharpshot had pulled the trigger.  He dove forward, dematerializing slightly, trying to slow the bullet enough that Melanie would be alright.

Old habits died hard.

And so did Melanie.

He hadn't reacted fast enough to save the crawler.  As he solidified next to her, he could practically feel Sharpshot's eyes boring into the back of his skull.  He didn't care.  He held Melanie's lifeless body in his arms and sobbed softly.  His partner let out a frustrated sigh.

"You do remember what she did to you, don't you?"

Realization dawned on him.  What would Nash do when he heard about this?

He felt a sense of purpose flow through him again.  They couldn't let that stop them.  They had a mission, and today was a victory.  Zero casualties.  Another crawler down, and a breeder at that.  He silently reassured himself that they were doing the right thing, stood up, and walked to the window.  He turned back to his partner.  "I wish I didn't."  And he let himself fall backward.

He chuckled to himself as the crowd below gasped and screamed at him falling.  He reveled in their shock all the way up to the moment right before he hit the ground, at which point he transformed into a cloud of black smoke and flew back up to retrieve Sharpshot.

Just after she had leapt from the ledge, a sharp pain in his left leg tore him away from the moment.

And he opened his eyes.

"Please silence your cell phones now," a soft, pleasant voice repeated more times than was necessary.

He turned and gave his sister a silent nod of appreciation.  She just smiled, reveling in the opportunity he had given her to kick him without consequence.

One hundred and two minutes later, he left the theater with his sister so that she could navigate to the restaurant they were all supposed to meet at.  As they climbed in the car, she asked the obligatory question after seeing a movie with someone.  "So, what did you think?"

"It was good," he responded with a bit less enthusiasm than he actually felt.  "The first one was better, though."

"Are you kidding me?"  She asked incredulously.  "The first one was impossible to follow!"

"You just aren't used to non-linear story telling."

She laughed at him.  "Nerd."