Some Kind of Used Car Salesmen (Part 1)

Posted on Mon Jul 20th, 2015 @ 5:41pm by Admiral Maximilian 'Max' Hunter & Captain Darius Cayne

876 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Ghosts of Mirror's Past
Location: Classified Intel Rehabilitation Station Classified

ON:

Darius lay there in his bed in the rehabilitation center. Eyes closed as he felt the soft murmur of his past beginning to creep back up again. The soft voices began to get louder and louder and louder, until suddenly they were bursting in his ears, like a Tellarite death metal song blaring in his head. The voices grew louder and louder until there were too many voices overlapping. Just when he thought it would reach a point of no return, they all stopped and in one unison voice the words Resistance Is Futile echoed in his mind. His eyes quickly shot opened as he sat up in his bed and stared off into his own reflection in the mirror across from him.

Another sleepless night, done and gone. Another morning here in Starfleet Intelligence’s hole in the wall. A rehabilitation center hidden away for fallen and possibly forgotten. If he wasn’t being haunted by memories of the Borg, it was memories of his fallen family. His wife and daughter being pinned down and injected with Borg nano-probes. Watching their skin change and Borg implants bursting from their bodies and hearing their screams echo in the dim green lights of the Borg cube.

Too many memories. Too many lingering memories. All he needed was a hot shower and large mug of black coffee. Not the replicated stuff, but the genuine stuff. The kind that would keep you awake for days and make your heart race with energy. He needed anything to keep him awake. Anything to keep from closing his eyes.

After a long and hot shower, Darius emerged from the bathroom with just a towel around his waist, and headed into his dark bedroom. He took a moment to rub his left shoulder, as he became a custom to doing after they gave him his new arm, and used it to pour himself a drink from the half empty whiskey bottle. The same whiskey bottle that began full last night. As he placed down the bottle, he paused slightly, hearing a sound behind him. Quickly, he opened his draw and removed a Colt. 45 from it. As he turned around, he pulled back the hammer and stared down the barrel at the familiar face in the dark.

“You still got it, Cayne.” Admiral Max Hunter replied, uncrossing his arms from behind his back and placing his hands in the pockets of his black suit. He smirked slightly, his upper lip masked by his thick mustache, and raised a brow as he continued to speak. “I’ll have to reprimand the staff for failing to search you properly for weapons.”

“Antique. Part of my collection. Nostalgia.” Darius replied softly, his gun still aimed at Max as his free hand reached down and took a hold of the glass. “Told them I removed the firing pin. Neglected to tell them I put it back in when they left.” He eased the glass to his lips and took a sip, tilting his head slowly.

Max smiled slightly, shaking his head as a soft laugh escaped his face. One thing he admired about Darius was he was resourceful. Knew which rules to break and bend and which ones not to. He was more soldier then Officer, but the desire to succeed was still the same. “That’s what I like about you, Cayne. You’re always thinking. Watching your own back. Standing your ground, even when you think you have the upper hand.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m the one with the gun to your head.” Darius replied, taking another sip of his drink as he narrowed his eyes to the man. “I assure you, it will work. I take very good care of my collection.”

“I know.” Max said as he took a step to him and stopped again. “I saw the bullets when I removed them.”

Darius tilted his head before placing the drinking glass down and easing a thumb onto the clip release. As the click sounded to release the clip, he placed his other hand under the handle. When the clip fell from the gun, to his hand, he looked down briefly and caught a glimpse of the top. It was empty. SOB must have emptied it when I was in the shower. He thought as he looked back up to Max and nodded his head. “For the record. I wouldn’t have shot you. I just don’t like unexpected guests.”

“Something we have in common.” Max replied, smirking as he removed his hands from his pockets and crossed his arms over his chest. “How would you like to get out of here?”

Darius raised a brow as he lifted his glass again, taking a sip. “Is this some kind of joke? They told me it would be another month or so. They need to run tests or whatever the hell.” He took another sip and looked at Max, clearing his throat slightly before speaking again. “Science-y stuff, I guess. They tell me about two things here. Jack and sh-.”

To Be Continued...

Admiral Maximillian ‘Max’ Hunter
Chief of Special Operations
Starfleet Intelligence

&

Captain Darius Cayne
Commanding Officer
U.S.S. Arthurian

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