“Come on,” he said, wiping his eyes, “we don’t want to miss Skids.”
Everyone else was already in the hangar when they arrived. Devonte found Brannigan, Gunner, Jet and General MacPherson near the front of the assembled crowd of welders and soldiers.
“It’s too late, you missed him,” Brannigan said as they approached. “Go back to whatever you were doing.”
“Fuck you,” Devonte said before giving Brannigan a quick fist bump. “Where is he?”
“Packing up his Jeep. He’ll be back shortly.”
“He’s back now,” Skids said, dusting off his hands and shoving them deep in the pockets of his overalls. “Gonna be gone soon though.”
“Gonna miss you, brother,” Gunner said. The two men clasped hands and pulled each other into a tight embrace.
General MacPherson stepped forward and extended her hand.
“What? No hug?” Skids said with a lopsided grin.
“Anything I can do to convince you to stay?” the general asked as she shook the man’s hand.
His smile faltered. “No,” he said. “With Tungsten and Bunk gone I just…I can’t be around here anymore. Too many good memories turned painful.” He scanned the crowd. “Jet?”
The other man stood with his arms folded across his chest. When he heard his name, he looked away.
“Right,” Skids said. “I’ll miss you, man.”
“Not enough to not run away,” Jet said.
“Hey,” Gunner said, “cut that shit out.”
“Nah,” Skids said, “he’s right, I’m running away. But it’s what I gotta do for me. If you ever forgive me—”
“Oh shut up,” Jet said, “I don’t hate you. Just take care of your damn self.”
Skids gave another lopsided grin. “Knew you’d come around.” He waved over at Devonte and Skylar. “Y’all keep that wolf-dragon bastard thing from wreaking havoc, you hear?”
“Akuma?” Devonte said. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Skids let out a single, loud “ha” as he climbed into his Jeep. “I’ll remember that one,” he said. He grew solemn. “It was truly an honor to work with all of you. Take care.” The Jeep’s engine roared to life, and the tires squealed as he floored the gas pedal and roared out of the open hangar.
“All them engine theatrics,” Gunner said,” just to load the damn thing onto a boat.”
The comment received the first genuine bit of laughter Devonte had heard since Inkanyamba’s defeat, and all the losses that came with it were reported.
#
“By the way,” Skylar said as the two of them sat side by side and leaned against the desk, watching Akuma sleep. “Where are you going to go now that all of this is over?”
“That’s right,” Devonte said, “my apartment probably blew up, didn’t it?”
Skylar nodded.
“I have no clue,” he said. “And shit, I promised you could stay with me, didn’t I?”
“Don’t worry about that,” she said. “I can go back to Chicago.”
“With your dad?”
“It’ll be like I never left,” she said, staring at the ground. “He probably didn’t even notice I was gone.”
“Knock knock,” Brannigan said, tossing aside the flap of the research tent and striding in.
“Most people wait for a ‘come in’ after knocking,” Devonte said dryly.
“Why? Are you two getting inappropriate in here? And in front of the baby,” he said, dramatically pointing at Akuma, who snorted at the sudden loud noises interrupting his sleep.
“How are you as cheery and cheeky as always?” Skylar asked.
“Kid, I learned a long time ago that there’s no sense in dwelling on death,” Brannigan said, sliding down the wall and sitting next to Devonte. “And besides, most people need a good laugh when times are hard.”
“I do appreciate it,” Devonte said. “I think if you had broken down, that would have been the end of it for me.”
“Yeah,” Brannigan said shortly. “I couldn’t help but overhear that you both are having a ‘my home has been destroyed in a fire’ crisis.”
“No,” Skylar said, “I—”
“I heard that too. That’s not a home, so you’re in the same boat as him,” Brannigan said. “Anyway, I can’t say anything yet because it’s a secret, but don’t worry about all that yet, just stick around a bit.”
“What’s that mean?”
“You might have a place to stay after all,” he said, rising to his feet. “Talk to the general.”
#
“Let it be known, Mr. President, that when General Corden informed me of his plan to launch a nuke on American soil, I protested,” General MacPherson said.
“Mr. President, it was on your orders that I launched that nuclear bomb. It was a necessary action to ensure—”
“Marcelle, I’m going to cut you off right there,” the president said. “I did not tell you to launch that missile. I simply authorized that a nuclear bomb could be launched. The way I see it, you made the choice.”
“That’s preposterous,” General Corden shouted.
“Preposterous,” the president said, “is the belief that it would ever be acceptable to endanger our great nation by unleashing a weapon of that power on our own city. People had homes in that city.”
“Sir, I—”
“As restitution for the good people of the city of San Francisco, and the American people at large, you are hereby stripped of your rank as general and furthermore, dishonorably discharged from the Armed Forces.” The president stamped a seal on a paper on his desk and held it up to the camera, so it was on full display on his screen. “Your replacement should be on his way to relieve you.”
“Mr. President, I—”
“Goodbye. This is a conversation between high-ranking officials. You are not privy to this information.” The president fiddled with the laptop on his desk and Corden’s image blinked away. “Now, Diane, can I call you Diane?”
“With all due respect, sir, I prefer to be addressed by my rank,” General MacPherson replied.
“That’s great, Diane, I think the voters will love me as the president who removed a corrupt and warmongering general from our military’s ranks.”
MacPherson neglected to remind the president that he had appointed Marcelle Corden in the first place. She was sure he knew. “Mr. President, there is a serious matter I would like to discuss with you.”
“Serious? We won!
