by Kipjo Ewers
Erica scoffed shaking her head, catching Rogers’ attention.
“Ms. Champion, why aren’t you standing over here with everyone else?”
She looked around, thinking he was joking.
“Who me?” she wore a wide-eyed look.
“I don’t see anyone else sitting their narrow ass on the steps of that goddamn plane.” He turned, burning a hole through her.
“Whoa,” she coiled back, “what did I do?”
“Exactly,” he snapped at her, “what didn’t you do? Get your ass up and fall in, now!”
She slowly got up, walking over. The look on her face asked Rogers what he was doing as she fell in standing next to Oliver.
“On the flight back I’ve been wrestling with what pissed me off more.” Rogers stood over her. “These three ass clowns failing to follow orders, or you standing around while they got their asses handed to them.”
“I told them it was a bad idea!” she fired back, “how am I…”
“Sir!” he roared at her, “you are to address me as sir!”
“Miss,” Maxine interrupted, “Are you alright?”
Rogers turned to see Maxine, Jennifer, and Angie walking up with their eyes glowing extra bright apparently locked on him.
“Your heart rate is elevated to the point of distress,” Maxine said.
“I’m fine, Maxine.”
Her face and mannerism told a different tale. She felt small, scared, and embarrassed. Rogers showed not an ounce of compassion or letting up.
“You think because you make all these cool things and have your little degrees, you’re so smart,” Rogers scoffed, “but you’re not. You’re just book smart and world dumb, and that’s because you’re still a baby. You also showed me you don’t know what it is to be a part of this team. Because to be a part of this team means standing by each other’s side possibly to the end, even if they make dumb decisions. Not standing around playing Candy Crush while your team gets their asses handed to them. It’s the only sliver of respect I have for dumb, dumber, and dumbass!”
“Uh… is that from me down or…” Adrian raised his hand.
“You’re two seconds away from getting shot in the face dumbass!” Rogers growled.
His hand hovered on his sidearm within its holster to show he was dead serious.
“Sir, yes sir!” Adrian straightened up.
Rogers gave a face a complete disappointment. It hurt her more than his words.
“I expected better from you.” He shook his head. “Much better.”
He backed up to address them all.
“I’m tired and can’t stand to look at any of you.” He looked down at the ground. “Make it your mission to stay out of my sight till tomorrow morning. Is that clear?”
“Sir, yes sir!” the trio howled.
Erica did not answer as she looked down to hide her forming tears.
“Dismissed.” he turned away in disgust.
Rogers walked off leaving them standing there, each reduced to a microscopic state. Erica stormed off without a word flocked by the android sisters. Oliver fell against the side of the Tornado staring off into space, while Rosann turned to her brother with a look that said she wished she had a bat to bash his skull in with.
“I can feel you look, Rose,” Adrian snapped. “You ain’t got to tell me how I badly screwed up again.”
He stormed off leaving just her and Oliver alone in the hanger.
CHAPTER 9
A half hour after Rogers’ brutal verbal abuse, Adrian and Oliver stood at the door of Lady Tech’s R&D lab. Her do not disturb red light lit up on the comlink. Adrian huffed as he pressed the notification button letting her know they were standing outside of her lab.
“This Miss has informed me that she does not want to be disturbed.” Maxine spoke on her behalf from the audio system above the door.
“Maxine, tell her if she doesn’t open up I’ll do my metal version of Sheldon,” Adrian warned.
“I’ve seen him do it,” Oliver said. “It’s like really annoying.”
Instantly the door slid open, and the sound of “X Gonna Give it to Ya” by DMX spilled out of the lab assaulting them. They walked in not knowing what was more humorous, someone of Erica’s intellect listening to something so harsh, or Jennifer and Angie rhythmically nodding to the song as they worked along with Maxine at different tables assisting her in her projects.
She lowered the music before turning to glare at them.
“What do you two want?” she snapped.
“We were wondering if you cared to join us for some Mario Kart 8,” Adrian smirked.
“We also intend to raid the frig for some s’mores and ice cream,” Oliver added.
“As you can see I’m kind of busy here.” She threw on a sarcastic smile.
“No you’re not.” Adrian shook his head. “You’re working because your pissed. I know because I use to work on my ride when I was heated.”
He took an apologetic step to her with his head down.
“Look,” he huffed, “what happened on that island was my fault. It was all on me. I didn’t follow orders, I came up with that crazy ass plan that could have gotten us killed if things were different, and I got you yelled at today. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted.” She looked at the ground. “But it’s not your fault that our leader is an ass.”
“Yeah, he is an ass.” Adrian quickly looked around to make sure they were truly alone. “But at the end of the day he means well, he reminds me of my old man back home. Old school guys like him will always be as hard as stone, and they have a weird way of showing they care, but they do.”
“So why do you find ways to annoy him?” she curiously asked.
“Because that’s just me,” he snorted. “I’m always testing boundaries. He’s also not right about everything. Just most things. So come on, let’s go drive some video game go-karts on a sugar rush.”
“I get Princess Peach,” she muttered.
“Done.” He threw up his hands.
“Can I come too, baby?” Angie walked over crossing into Adrian’s personal space.
“Don’t call me baby!” Adrian turned, scowling at Erica. “You said you fixed her!”
“I did,” Erica innocently shrugged.
“You’re the only one who can fix me, lover,” Angie sensually smiled.
Oliver shook his head fighting not to laugh as Angie pinned Adrian up against one of the lab workstations while using one on her fingers to trace a circle on his chest.
“Please, let me come with you.” She nuzzled up to him. “please… please…”
“Alright!” He gave in grinding his teeth. “But you got to behave yourself! No monkey business, and no invading my personal space! Like right now!”
“I’ll behave.” She blew an air kiss at him. “For now.”
She eased up a bit allowing him to barely slide from between her and the workstation. Adrian turned to Erica desperately trying to hide her amusement under an innocent face.
“Fix her,” he whispered.
This gave Angie the opening to cup his rear, making him jump. He turned, shooting her his trademark dirty look.
“We’re not in the lounge area yet,” she coyly smiled.
He stormed off with her sashaying behind him. Jennifer with a sneer followed behind her playful sister.
“They’re going to have some ugly ass kids.” The sarcastic android shook her head.
Oliver walked up standing next to Erica as they watched the comedy unfold.
“You’re not going to fix her, are you?” he asked.
“Nope,” she grinned, “he must suffa!”
They both broke into laughter as they exited her lab followed by Maxine heading to the lounge area.
˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜
As the trio, with androids in tow, ventured to find entertainment to blow away the gray cloud of the incident and aftermath of
visiting Sophia’s island, Rosann found herself quietly walking into the firing range. There she found Rogers discharging armor piercing rounds from his modified M-45 tearing holes through steel structure targets. Two handed was how he held it, just as he learned in the Corp, and how he taught them to do it. Because of his strength, Rogers did not need two hands, but the old soldier stood for doing things the right way. Rosann stood at a nervous attention waiting for him to notice that she was in the room; it was then that she glanced at three bottles of Jack Daniels among an M4 Carbine, an M16, and a M249 LMG. As he fired off his final round, he picked up one of the bottles of Jack and knocked it back as if it was water. He downed three-quarters of the bottle before pulling it from his lips.
“Use to be a time when five glasses of this would knock me on my ass.” He looked at the bottle. “Now all it does is give me bad breath and a gallon of piss. Damn regenerative healing.”
Rogers placed the bottle back on the table mixed with weapons, grabbing a clip to reload.
“You gonna just stand there gawking at me,” asked Abe, “or you gonna shoot something… here…”
Rogers grabbed the M4 Carbine tossing it to her; Rosann caught it checking for a loaded cartridge as taught. She relocked and loaded; taking up position in the firing booth next to him. She aimed and breathed letting the Carbine rip as it tore through the steel target in front of her. The modified version still had a kick due to the powerful ammo it was loaded with. Rogers now with M16 in hand unleashed hell on a new standing steel target. Although she was hitting the target, his accuracy was far more superior to hers.
Rosann decided to transform into her ring-tailed lemur form, which allowed her the strength to hold the gun without it kicking back, as well as use her keen eyesight to hit the target more accurately.
She smiled at her accomplishment, but then turned to the feel of eyes on her. Rogers looked at her with a blank expression that displayed neither anger nor disappointment.
“Cheater,” was all he said.
She quickly transformed back to her normal form.
“Sir, I just took what you taught me and used my abilities to improve upon it… sir,” she relied.
Rogers did not bother answer as he handed her a couple of more clips to reload. She laid the clips down on her table taking one up, and began to reload her rifle. She lifted it to take aim again but ended up lowering it turning her gaze to the Sergeant who let off a couple of more rounds.
“Sir, permission to speak freely, sir,” she nervously requested.
“Not if you going to turn back into a rodent Esposito,” Abe answered.
She nodded, looking down at the floor.
“What’s on that brainpan of yours?” he asked.
“Why are you here?” she bluntly asked.
“I thought I told you,” he smirked, “to try and turn you all into good little super soldiers for the US of A… make sure you at least don’t get killed on your first two missions… don’t ask me to see pass that.”
“I know we look like a bunch of screwups, but we’re here trying to learn to take these abilities given to us, and make some kind of difference in this world,” she pressed. “I seem to remember when I signed up for this that we’re supposed to be a team. But it’s like, yeah, you’re training us, but you don’t believe in us. You don’t believe in this… so again I ask… why are you here?”
Rogers turned, looking her in the eyes. It was not a direct look, more dismissive as he put down the M16, and began to reload the M-45.
“I was supposed to be retired by now… from all of this,” he said, “sitting back on a porch watching the days go by, counting down for the grandkids to show up… with my wife. The virus made sure that would never happen.”
“While you were still a tadpole in your pop’s sack, I was on the other side of the world watching a landmine blow two good kids to shit. The rest of the blast filled me up with shrapnel and took all of the vision out my left eye. Military career over, I came home as a typical vet with a purple heart to wipe my ass with along with what little pension and disability Uncle Sam gave me for giving up my eye.
“Took a job in construction to pay the bills, paid to go back to school and get a better paying job… as a teacher,” he scoffed, “then an old buddy of mine talked me into a wrestling gig… being that it was all staged didn’t matter too much that my eye was bad. Paid good money and, after 9/11, people would eat up the old soldier bit. I said what the hell… quick fast money… couple of matches… quick stress reliever between working on houses for shit pay or killing someone’s kid over a spitball… who the hell knew it would take off like it did. Next thing I knew I got the BWI calling me in for an audition, and a month later I’m headlining.
“Once again I was on the road, traveling from state to state and country to country, only this time I got sixty to seventy thousand people screaming my name or chanting “U.S.A… U.S.A…” He motioned as if he was there once again. “When I stepped onto that rampway, and walked down to that ring, I was as high as a kite.”
“And night after night between all the promoting, endorsements, talk show interviews, and photo shoots; I went out and punished what was left of my body that landmine didn’t take all for that drug.” He grinded his teeth. “Then after a couple of days on the road, I’d go home to my loving wife who met me at the door with a hug and a kiss. She’d draw me a hot bath in our fully paid eight-point-five hundred thousand dollar house that she stayed alone in for most of the time. Pour me a drink and then talk to me about how she spent her days… till I fell asleep which would be for a day and a half till I had to get back on the road and do it all over again… her name was Katherine.
“Sometimes I’d make holidays and birthdays… sometimes I wouldn’t… she never complained… ever… but I never missed a Christmas… ever… and every Christmas I’d look at her and say, ‘Baby this is it… I’m done.’” He gave a halfhearted smirk. “And then she would look at me with a smile and say, ‘You’re so full of shit… you know you’re not done yet.’ And she was right… after about four years it became like a running joke. Finally when the booze and painkillers couldn’t keep me going, when it took five more minutes to get to my feet when it should have taken three. On the seventh Christmas after coming home from the road… I looked at my wife and said, ‘Baby… I’m done,’ in which she replied, ‘You’re so full of shit… you know you’re not done yet.’ But this time… I held her hands, looked her dead in the eyes and said, ‘No baby… I am… done.’ She just burst into tears… was like watching her again when I came back from Kuwait.
“Legacy 6 the grandest Pay-Per-View of the BWI was supposed to be my last match. Two months before that the sky lit up on fire and everyone thought it was the end of the world. But even with the possibility of doomsday the show went go on.” He breathed a heavy sigh. “As the weeks counted down I didn’t realize I needed less and less painkillers… that I was getting stronger, moving faster, going longer without tiring. Then it happened in the middle of my match at Legacy… it wasn’t almost breaking a kid in half after I launched him into a nearby turnbuckle, or putting an extremely serious dent in a ring post… it was when I could finally see clearly out of my dead left eye… I had never been more terrified in my entire life till then.
“I don’t know how I held it together. It was the fastest match I ever jobbed. Couldn’t have gotten the hell out of there fast enough.” He let out a laugh. “All I wanted to do was go home. It was like a new lease on life. I went back to my wife deterioration-free of pain, booze, and pills. The night I got home we stayed in bed for two days and had to order a new one the next morning.”
Rosann could not help but crack a smile. Rogers’ stone exterior broke one as well remembering better days.
“A month after that Katherine was diagnosed with the Judgment Virus.” His stone cold look reformed. “The same thing that was healing and strengthening this once broken down body that I willfully punished and abused till there was nothing l
eft was killing and destroying my wife who barely took a drink in her life and never smoked.”
He laid down the M4 next to the other guns on the table, and leaned against the firing range divider taking up the bottle of Jack in his grip.
“She held on for six long months, after four she asked me to take her home.” Abe took a swig from the bottle. “We spent every day together talking and laughing like we were supposed to. Her last two weeks, I took her up to our cabin that she loved so much. One day she asked to go out on the river in the canoe I made. She died falling asleep in my arms. I must have just sat there for hours just talking and singing to her.”
Rosann somberly lowered her head; Rogers did not shed a tear from the memory. It was clear whatever tears the old hardened Marine had shed were gone years ago.
“So when you ask me why am I here,” Abe shrugged his shoulders, “when you’re a bitter broken down old man… who’s lost pretty much everyone and everything he gave a damn about… and now has the inability to just roll over and die; there ain’t too many options for a son of a bitch in my situation.”
Rogers displayed a toothy grin before taking another swig from the bottle of Jack. Rosann lifted her head to look at him. A part of her regretted asking her question, unprepared for the painful answer she’d received. The other part of her was glad she got a glimpse into his world.