We had him cornered. Surrounded, even.

  Seven of my men saw him approach the house. None of us saw him enter. But none of us saw him or the package or my niece go anywhere else.

  The water wasn’t deep under the dock itself. This whole area used to be called Marion Hill, I believe. A relatively shallow slope as those things go, the refracted light of the setting sun was all we needed to know he didn’t go that way either.

  And now, here we were. Caught the damn traitor red-handed. I never would’ve trusted Stephie with him if I’d known he’d turn out like this. Salvage operations had to be handled delicately. Being that we’d never recover as a society if we couldn’t harvest valuable abandoned resources. On the other hand, we couldn’t afford to pay restitution for the high out-of-jurisdiction fatality rate.

  So we made it a practice to sell the drone-scouted locations and buy the spoils once the dangerous work was done. High-risk for one, high-reward for all. The fact that Stephie wasn’t the one taking that risk was the real reason I’d set them up together. She wanted some real adventure in her life, and he… Well, he was willing to risk his. All in all, the whole setup was just some relatively harmless black market nonsense that tended not to overlap with my official duties. Until today.

  I should probably introduce myself properly then… “Agent Williams, FBI!” How do you do? “We have a warrant for a fugitive who was most recently seen approaching this cabin!”

  No movement. None at all. Well damn… This would’ve been so simple if it was just him. But no. The old man he was holding hostage was bad enough. Her being in there too was just overkill.

  If there was one thing I’d learned about Jameson, it was that a smart enemy did not give him time to think.

  Still, now that I’d introduced myself and abandoned all precedence for a raid, policy was policy. “If this door is not opened within ten seconds, we WILL force entry… TEN!!!”

  No response. “NINE!!!”

  Maybe a little movement? “EIGHT!!!”

  I couldn’t quite make it out… “SEVEN!!!”

  Was that..? “SI-” Oh there it was. He was trying to pull something.

  I felt my hackles rise. Screw protocol. “TWO!!!”

  Like scurrying rats, the both of them. I wouldn’t give them the chance. “ONE!!!”

  A gunshot sounded out. From… the boat?

  Was this whole thing with the house just a distraction? I could swear I’d seen shadows in the window a second ago. Heard them too. But that could’ve just been the old man. If they’d managed to circle back… Swam under the dock after we’d had them surrounded?

  If they’d burrowed through that deathtrap’s floorboards, they could’ve pulled it off… But could they take the converter with them? I heard those were heavy. But this was Jameson Simmons. Goddamned Golden Boy of the East Coast Salvage Network. He could probably lift it underwater by himself. And his damn boat had a crane, so maybe… Damn it, who the hell had fired that shot?

  I leaned into my shoulder. “Anyone hit?”

  After a moment, I sighed in relief. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’. Alright, Alpha Squad, stay here and stay ready. Permission to fire at first sign of resistance from primary suspect. Anyone else…” I winced. “Standard procedure. Bravo and Charlie…” Lifting one hand from the sniper, I gave a wrist-chop towards the boat. “with me.”

  Me and most of my team immediately started moving. Back over to… I didn’t want to think about it. But I didn’t have a choice. And besides, I was already there.

  I hung back with Charlie to surround it while Bravo stormed the boat and told me everything I’d hoped to hear. A body. A homeless man. Six bullet holes out the back of his coat.

  Oh… Thank god. I’d still shot someone. And that wasn’t good. But… Wait, that was it? Was THIS the distraction? Then we had to get back to-

  Bill chimed in from on deck. “Hold on, he’s got a gun.”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Shuffling noises…

  “Let’s just get that out of your-”

  A gunshot cut through the chatter.

  I resumed sweating for a whole different reason than before. “REPORT.”

  “Sorry, he has a gun. I tried to pry it loose, but it discharged in the attempt.”

  “Idiot! Did you at least point it up and away from the body?”

  No response.

  “That could’ve hit any of us. It could’ve hit the BS for all you knew!” I tried to pacify myself with a grumble. “Whatever. Debrief later. How about you go ahead and take a few pictures of the whole scene in there if you haven’t already.”

  “I obviously did that first, Williams… I’m not a complete amateur.”

  “You’re right, Peters. An amateur would still get the next step right. The one where you UNLOAD the deadly weapon before removing it from a damn DEATH GRIP.”

  No response. Just shuffling. Until… “Done. Gotta say, this guy has such dainty hands-oh. Actually sir, speaking of me being an amateur, the corpse is female.”

  I felt all the blood leave my face in an instant.

  “Clearly young, overweight-”

  I started to hyperventilate. I didn’t hear the next few words.

  “Long, dark-brown hair, with-”

  I had a heart attack.

  Then the boat exploded.

  In a haze, I neither saw nor comprehended anything but fire.

  Then I woke up. I’d been out for… Seconds?

  By sheer reflex, I went for my radio first. Then, I remembered what was at stake and reached for my sidearm instead. But the arm on that side was nearly gone now, hanging from my torso by what might as well be a thread. So, I tried to reach my hand around to the other side of my torso where I kept the holster.

  At some point during this, I remembered what was REALLY at stake. What difference would a gun make now..? This was already more than enough for a death sentence. Stephie was as good as dead if we caught her now. But I couldn’t just let the converter go.

  I rolled on my side and used that momentum while ignoring the pain to grab my desert eagle, even though the whole motion put pressure on my… I had a stump now, didn’t I? There was no reattaching…

  Holding the gun ahead of me, I tried to aim at where they were running. But my gun was in the wrong hand for that. And it was shaking so hard…

  Only then did I spot the sniper rifle sitting there. Still pointing at the door. I’d planned and planned and planned for this. And look how that turned out… My entire team was dead. Anyone who wasn’t, was only the next best thing. Myself included.

  I almost managed to inch myself over to the sniper. But before I could, I vomited and fell into the puddle.

  Then, I just laid there. With a hacking cough, I cried in pain and effort to clear my airway of whatever was blocking it. Luckily, what came out was mostly liquid. Unluckily, it was all red. Still, I could breathe. And so I did. I breathed and watched Jameson turn the corner. past where the sniper was already aiming. I watched her follow right after. I just watched. And wished.

  I wished I could let them go. I wished Stephie wasn’t the one with the cart. I wished I could see the wheel from this angle. I wished I couldn’t tell which leg she was favoring. I even wished BS Originals weren’t waterproof. It could set them up for life. But it couldn’t. Not if I could help it. Not when it would save millions of starving innocents. Not even for the daughter I never had…

  I fought my way upright with the one arm. I battled through the pain to plant my elbow on the melted plastic and wrap my finger around the trigger. I fought even harder for my lungs not to give out. It definitely felt like they wanted to.

  Watching them run, I took a deep, painful breath and lined up the sights as I waited, hoped, prayed for her to trip over a divot. Or a rock. Or anything at all.

  But she didn’t. I wished she would. What she did do, was stumble just as she made herself fully visible along the fork in the dock’s main path. Even here, even now, I knew I couldn’t waste that opening.

  I shot my favorite niece through the ankle.

  Jameson froze at the report as Stephie finally tripped.

  The bag fell off the dock, dolly and all. My little girl’s face contorted into more pain than I’d ever seen from her as we both watched it fall.

  Then Jameson took it all in. The bag. The splash. Her ankle. Then he saw me.

  My one hand staggered upwards above the gun even as it thunked into the half-melted plastic of the dock. “I surrender!”

  [ HEROISM RECOGNIZED: YOU ARE INVITED — ACCEPT? ]

  Ignoring the hallucination, I waved at him with my one remaining arm.

  Miracle of miracles, he lowered his gun.

  I felt like I was gonna pass out. “Oh thank heavens! Good decision, Jameson. There are people coming for me. Just take my keys, take my car, take Stephie, and get out of-”

  A jerk of movement and flash of a barrel was the last thing I ever saw. I didn’t hear it. Didn’t hear anything ever again.

  Then there was nothing. Nothing but the prompt. What the hell was this thing?

  But I already knew enough to know I didn’t care what happened next. Not about anything. Not anymore. I’d done my job. My whole team was gone. Jameson either shot them dead or blew them up along with his sister’s body. Stephie would never walk again. All of it, every last bit, was my fault.

  In every sense of the word, I was lost. In one sense of the word, I accepted that fact.

  The left option lit up.

  Then I was gone.