Justin Kemppainen - The Legend of Ivan

Ivan gave a sad chuckle. “The planet was destroyed.”

“The whole thing?” Narrowing his eyes, Grey asked, “How?”

“I do not have the slightest idea.”

The bounty hunter folded his arms, bothered by the admission. It wasn’t because he thought Ivan was lying; Grey could hear the truth of it in the large man’s voice. Nor was the situation troubling due to the people who wanted to interrogate and rip every tiny thought from Ivan’s mind in a desperate attempt to discover how one could obliterate a world. Regardless of results, Grey’s money would be paid, wasted by the corporations who would gain nothing from Ivan.

What disturbed Grey was that suddenly Ivan seemed like less of a conquest. The huge man would be locked in a box for the remainder of his natural life, pumped full of narcotics and answering the endless barrage of questions. The information of Ivan having nothing to do with the incident, only a mere witness, would never leak out of the top tiers of the cooperating corporations. As far as the galaxy would be concerned, Traverian Grey would have captured the legend who crushed a planet with his bare hands.

Even still, the person Grey cared about the most was himself, and he felt as though his impending victory had been cheapened.

“I am sorry I cannot satisfy your curiosity, my friend,” Ivan said, noting the frown and silent contemplation his comrade lapsed into. “We should be going, however. I have had a few pesky flies buzzing near to my tail of late. They have this nasty habit of swarming when I stop to rest.”

Grey waved a hand. “They’re all dead.”

“You swatted them, eh?” Ivan nodded, frowning without a trace of surprise. “I thought as much upon seeing the wreckage in atmosphere and smoking craters upon the ground. Were their deaths truly necessary?”

The bounty hunter didn’t reply, too wrapped in his disappointment and contemplation. Is the mountain worth climbing when you find out it’s a hill? he thought.

Ivan sighed. “You were always a brutal and ruthless man, Mister Grey. Very cold and all about business.” He folded his arms. “However, we have been dancing around an important matter. Tell me, did you kill those men and women to help me, or are you simply eliminating the competition?”

Grey shot a gaze up to Ivan, his contemplation evaporating. Ivan stood a few feet away, entirely non-threatening with a deadpan expression. He spoke again. “Consider this carefully, my old friend. This is not a road you will be able to return from easily.”

A chill coursed through Grey, and with it came the slightest mote of doubt that he’d be capable of besting Ivan.

At the thought, exhilaration burst within him, the doubt and uncertainty of success transforming his hill into a mountain once again. His mind flitted over the weapons he carried and the devices buried nearby: traps and snares to ensure success.

“Please tell me my friend.” Ivan’s face betrayed a sorrow suggesting he already knew the answer. “Are you here to help me?”

Grey did not respond with words. Snapping his visor down, he swung his energy rifle to bear. He fired, aiming for Ivan’s leg.

Traverian Grey was fast, and he was an excellent shot. The bounty hunter hardly had a moment to register his energy bolt missing entirely before Ivan sprang forward. In an impossibly fast motion, the enormous man ripped the rifle out of Grey’s hands and smashed it into the mercenary’s midsection.

Though the ballistic armor took the brunt of the impact, Grey staggered against the force of the blow. Before he could recover, Ivan seized the bounty hunter around the midsection and tore the helmet from his head in a swift motion. Surprised by the unbelievable strength his foe possessed, Grey didn’t react until Ivan grabbed and hurled him ten feet.

The bounty hunter crashed to the ground face first, smashing out a couple of teeth and cutting a hole in his lower lip. Dazed, he touched his forehead where a wide gash split.

“You are fighting very slowly, my friend.” He heard Ivan behind him. “I know you can do much better.”

Spitting blood, Grey snarled and spun around. He snatched two flechette pistols from his belt and fired.

Ivan ducked one burst and blocked the other with the helmet he still held. The razor cloud smashed into it, a few sliding by and slicing into Ivan’s body. Seeming not to notice the lacerations on his torso, Ivan hurled the helmet, tiny razors embedded within it, at Grey.

Still shocked at his opponent’s speed and strength, Grey managed to roll out of the way, dropping one pistol in the process. He brought the other to bear only to have it disintegrate in his hand as Ivan fired the half-bent energy rifle with frightening accuracy.

There was a pause. Ivan, with the rifle aimed at Grey, took a step forward. “I do not wish to kill you, my old friend. Please do not force me to.”

Breathing hard, blood streaming down his face and bits of the molten pistol clinging to his glove, Grey flitted a glance over to the other, fallen weapon. It was nearly within arm’s reach.

“Please don’t,” Ivan repeated.

Grey clenched his teeth. Without his helmet display, he couldn’t see the locations of the explosives he placed. Hell with this , he thought, punching a button on his belt as he dove.

A deafening boom filled the air along with smoke and a shower of rock. Three of his buried explosives went, each close to the center of the campsite and away from where he lay. A high-pitched whine streaked into his ears as he snatched up the pistol and rolled. He brought the weapon to bear, ready to fire.

Ivan wasn’t there. Smoke and dust kicked up from the mines clouded around, and Grey couldn’t see any sign of his enemy. His augmented and normally insulated hearing still shrieked with the noise. Swiveling the pistol back and forth, he scanned, desperate to find Ivan. The bounty hunter’s eyes stung from blood, sweat, and dust. Grey blinked, trying to clear them.

Without even the slightest hint of detecting his foe’s approach, Grey’s arms clamped down at his sides. The pistol was knocked from his grasp, and a moment later the bounty hunter was hoisted into the air and slammed into the ground.

An audible crack from his ballistic armor cut through the shrieking in his ears. The wind rushed from his lungs, his forehead again rebounding off the hard ground. Stars danced in front of his eyes, and he coughed. In a daze, something was tugging, yanking at his legs. What’s he doing? Grey thought, touching another button at his belt.

The blast went off underneath him. His armor, the finest money could buy, was incredibly tough. Instead of blowing a hole through his torso, the explosive merely broke and cracked a total of six ribs and sent him flying through the air with Ivan still clinging to his back.

Grey impacted the ground, his mental haze bursting with pain as his newly damaged ribs cried out. He couldn’t hear anything at all, the obnoxious whine almost bursting his skull.

He felt the armor ripped free of his leg, the cold of the night air instantly chilling on his bare skin. Grey twisted the dial on one wrist. Tiny jabs poked at various points on his body, and his veins ignited with stimulant pouring into them.

Eyes flying open, the world snapped into sharper focus. Grey rolled over and kicked out, freeing his other leg from Ivan’s grasp and staggering his opponent. Using the moment, Grey stumbled to his feet and charged. He rammed into Ivan’s midsection, hoping to drive the huge man into the ground.

Good God, he is a mountain , Grey thought as Ivan didn’t budge.

With a casual shove, Ivan sent the mercenary sprawling again. The dull, distant pain roared weakly, hidden behind the blood-boiling stimulant. Grey tried to scramble away, but his leg was seized again. Ivan bellowed and pulled, hands on either side of the bounty hunter’s thigh.