Sergeant Miller

[6] Finishing what he started

Aron sped through the brightly lit hallways, in directions he’d not think he’d go. He wasn’t even sure if he was approaching the shots, his thoughts scrambled, his mind racing millions of miles per hour. The shots kept on coming, magazines on top of magazines being unloaded in a rapid fashion.

Aron was petrified once he stopped by the door leading to a large, packed cargo room. The space was a chaotic labyrinth of towering boxes, metal shelves, and discarded machinery, all strewn about with a reckless disregard for order. The air was thick with the stench of gunpowder and blood. In the center of this carnage was Copper, who was ruthlessly mowing down anything that moved. His assault rifles spat fire, their deafening roar echoing off the walls. Bodies piled up around him, a testament to his lethal precision. His mastery over his assault rifles was admirable, almost as good as mine, Aron thought.

Copper’s eyes were cold and focused as he squeezed the trigger over and over, each shot well placed. The rifles in his hands felt like an extension of his body, moving with grace as he dispatched the guards with clinical efficiency. But as he reached the last magazine, the familiar click of an empty chamber rang out, breaking his rhythm. Without missing a beat, he tossed the rifles aside and drew his trusty Glock-19.

But this time, luck betrayed him. The Glock jammed, the slide stuck stubbornly in place. Copper cursed under his breath, desperately trying to clear the malfunction, but the gun refused to cooperate. His heart pounded in his chest as he glanced around, realizing with a sinking feeling that he was out of ammo, without any working firearm, and completely surrounded. The guards, sensing his vulnerability, began to close in, their footsteps echoing as they got closer.

Copper’s mind raced. He had always prided himself on his independence, his ability to get the job done without relying on anyone else, especially not on someone like Aron. The sergeant’s plan had seemed cautious, overly so, and Copper had rejected it outright. He wanted to do things his way, the way he had always done them. But now, facing the grim reality of his situation, a sliver of doubt crept in. In the back of his mind he wondered if Aron was right. The assassin obviously knew what the sergeant was doing and talking about, yet it felt bitter admitting it. He wanted to do it his way. Now he’s fucked.

The guards were nearly upon him, their guns raised, ready to end him. Copper’s grip tightened on his useless Glock, he was prepared to go down fighting. He’d rather die on his terms than admit he needed Aron’s help. Yet, in the back of his mind, he couldn’t shake the nagging thought that this wasn’t how it was supposed to end.

Suddenly, a deafening gunshot shattered the tense silence, the sound so loud it seemed to pierce Copper’s skull. For a split second, everything froze. Copper blinked in surprise, his heart skipping a beat as he saw one of the guards drop to the ground, a single, precise bullet hole in the center of his forehead. The remaining guards hesitated, confusion spreading among them.

Before Copper could fully process what was happening, more gunfire erupted. The guards fell one by one, each shot a perfect kill. Copper’s eyes darted to the source, and there, emerging from the shadows, was Aron. He stood calm as he methodically took down every last enemy in the room. The handgun in Aron’s hands moved with deadly accuracy, each shot echoing through the cargo room as the guards were picked off like targets in a shooting range.

Copper held his breath as he watched Aron work, the sergeant’s skill was undeniable. For the first time, Copper felt a mix of emotions he wasn’t used to—relief, gratitude, and bitter respect. Aron had just saved his life, no doubt about it. And he had done it with the precision and cold efficiency that Copper had always valued in himself.

As the last guard fell, the room fell silent, save for the distant hum of machinery and the faint ringing in Copper’s ears. Aron lowered his weapon and turned to Copper, their eyes locking across the room. Copper was too proud to thank him, though.