Chase Hatter's Origin of Pangaea

Chapter Nineteen

As Jack and Cole were led back outside, they found more of the American soldiers. Four of them in total. Just like themselves. They had forced Carl and Axel on their knees in the grass and the rifle-wielding soldier welcomed Jack and Cole to join them. There was no doubt in Cole's mind. This was not a random attack. These men had followed them here. These were the soldiers following them in the helicopter.

Once all four men were sat in front of him, the man with the rifle began to speak.

"Okay," he began, "so here's what's happening. We were sent to kill you. We wanted to make it simple. Put a few bullets in your heads and then leave. But you made it so fucking hard! You made us follow you across the entire country. So, for that, we've decided as a group that you dirty fucking Pangaeans don't deserve quick deaths."

The soldier knelled down and snatched Carl up from the grass. Cole hopped up, but a hit over the head with a pistol sat him back down. Carl didn't scream, but he was clearly petrified. The soldier waved the barrel of his rifle carelessly in front of Carl's face. Cole became enraged.

"I'll rip your fucking head off!" Cole promised.

"Cole, stop!" Jack demanded. Cole attempted to obey. He grit his teeth to keep himself from talking, but his words were traded for growls. Cole tried to keep himself from moving again, but this resulted in an almost violent shiver. All he could picture was being too late to save Carl. How his every move mattered at this moment. Cole hated to have that feeling. He hated being lost. He hated silence. He hated being helpless. He hated Americans.

He hated giving into his rage, despite the command he'd been given.

Cole hated the snap he felt between his fingers when he broke the rifleman's arm. Cole hated the scream he heard when he stole the soldier's gun. He hated the ringing in his ears when he picked off the three other soldiers. He hated the blood splatter that got on his uniform as he punched the rifleman's face into a bloody pulp. He hated the sound of the American soldier's radio cracking on. Static was annoying. What could be worse than static?

Cole sat on his knees in the grass, radiating anger. He couldn't bring his eyes up from his blood stained hands. Nothing was running through his mind. There never could be when he was killing someone. Jack had long ago explained to him that if he let himself take control, then he'd fail.

He couldn't fail.

Jack and Axel stood from the grass. Axel cooed as he beckoned the traumatized engineer over for a well deserved hug. Carl didn't hesitate to accept it. He needed to feel something to make sure this was all real. Jack stomped over to his soldier. He made sure not to touch Cole. He knew what this was. He just needed to wait it out. He lit a cigarette.

When Cole found himself able to think again he took a deep breath of air and slowly stood to his feet. Jack offered him a cigarette and he took it.

"I told you to stop." Jack said. Cole huffed.

"I know."

The static over the American soldier's radio hummed louder and a voice came through the other end, clear as day.

"Are they dead yet?"

None of them moved.

"...Hello? Someone answer me. Are they dead yet?"

Axel cocked a brow at Jack and Cole. "I could be mistaken," Axel began, "but I believe that's Waylon Brose, no?"

"Yes," Jack said, "it is."

"What the fuck is he talking about?" Cole asked. "Who's supposed to be dead? Us?" Jack only gave Cole a knowing look. "That doesn't make any fucking sense. We came all the way out here for nothing? Is this war not over then? If he doesn't sign the treaty-"

"Cole." Jack interrupted. "Shut up." Cole stopped talking and started pacing instead. "Axel, tell me what happened?"

Axel smiled brightly and Cole's heart sank. The soldier fell back down to his knees.

"It seems as though this was all a ploy, is that not obvious?" Axel explained. "Waylon must have been offered a prize in exchange for our heads. To lure us out of hiding, he offered his signature of a treaty that would win Pangaeans the war. Then, he sent a team of poorly trained, chatty assassins to execute us."

"Fuck." Jack cursed. Axel didn't seem bothered.

"Are you all down about this?" Axel asked. "I wonder why."

"This war isn't over, Axel." Jack explained.

"Oh, you are right." Axel agreed. "But if you'd stop sitting around we could end it in the next two hours. All we need is a signature, not his consent. And, Jack Richards, I've seen you convince men to offer you much more than a signature at gunpoint."

Jack and Cole made eye contact. "Can you do this for me tonight?" Jack asked Cole. "If we don't mess this up then it'll all be over. You can kill anyone you want, just not Waylon. But after we find him, and after he signs it, you can have the shot."

"Really?"

"Really." Jack promised. "Are you in or out?"

"You don't have to ask me." Cole told Jack. "I'm still your soldier. I always will be."