“I WANT YOU.”

The old vintage recruitment sign with the image of Uncle Sam on it mocked Ricardo Clark. The finger pointed in his direction. Someone had marked out the part that said for the U.S. Army and wrote over it with—for the Alliance, some new form of government that had taken over power when the old government crumbled.

Not that he had to worry. He’d been discharged years ago because of some stupid asthma thing and now he was a hundred pounds overweight give or take a few pounds. Who would really ‘want’ him? He should have been able to stay in, but the military was over crowded. They’d stopped recruiting after they pulled out of the Middle East and were looking at reasons to let go soldiers. Hell, with all the advancements in medicine he could have had his asthma cleared up in no time, but he didn’t fight it. Not like he should have. He had a place to go, others didn’t and they needed the stability of working for the government.

Rico continued his walk to the bakery. The only thing he was good for was eating a few donuts before going to his boring data entry job. After the big flood in 2050 there was tons of data that needed re-entered and a lot more of it lost. It sucked, but it paid the bills and kept his mom off his back. She was always asking when was he going to find a nice boy and settle down. She’d bring up the old—I helped fight for your right to marry whoever you want, now do something about it and make me proud. I want grandkids! Rico didn’t even know if he liked kid, not that it was an option now anyway. He was single and barley making ends meet.

Before he was born there was a big fight over government involvement in same sex marriage and his parents were in the ‘trenches’ as it were, to make changes. Finally the government passed a bill stating that it took no part in who a person could or could not marry and that each state had to abide by it marrying who ever wanted to be. Or something like that. Rico couldn’t’ remember the exact wording, but the jest of it was—same sex couples could get married and have it recognized where ever they went.

There was a big outcry and some churches took a big stand, but all and all after a few years—no one really cared and it was business as usually. Still, there were the hate mongers out there, but as time passed they faded away. When Rico hit puberty it was all old news and there were different things to fight over. The churches prayed over the state of the world and blamed the rest of the nation on the coming apocalypse. Turned out it was a flood not zombies taking over. The church still took credit saying their god was bringing down the sinners of the world. They never could come up with how their congregations weren’t spared.

Rico didn’t really care. He had big plans—like with his military career and faith didn’t fit into what he wanted. It was supposed to be his ticket to law enforcement. He was thinking CIA or FBI. Now he was a glamorous clerk sitting behind a desk and clacking away at a keyboard all day.

He finally reached the shop and walked in.

“Rico! Your usual?” The owner winked at him.

 Rico nodded and bellied up to the counter to wait for his order. It should make him sad that the pastry people knew him, but he was hungry and running late. He didn’t have time to be upset about the predicament of his own making. No one let him get so out of shape. That was all on him.  

 There was a new guy behind the counter and Rico couldn’t stop staring. He was rugged and lean with short blond hair standing on end and bright green eyes. He had scruff on his face and a black eye, like he’d gone a couple rounds in a fight. But that wasn’t what caught Rico’s eye. It was the tattoos running up and down each arm. They were colourful and he wanted a closer look, even leaned over the counter a bit before he caught himself.

But a man like that wouldn’t look twice at the fat blob he’d become. Maybe when he was still in the military Rico’d have the balls to approach him. Now he just took his sweets and left the bakery.

They city looked better than it had in years and he enjoyed his walk, taking a big bite of the gooey confection. The weather was nice, the sun shining. He was actually sweating a bit, the hazards of his extra pounds. For the first time he thought maybe he should do something about it. He thought back to the blond with those tattoos and threw his donuts into the next trash bin he found, but that didn’t stop him from licking his fingers.

He reached his building when an explosion lit up the sky. He saw it before he felt or heard it. Rico was on the ground, he didn’t even know how he got there. Rubble smacked into him. He tried to get his arms over his head but he wasn’t quick enough. Another round hit close to his positions. Rico crawled away, his ears echoing with the sounds.

This was something out of one of his nightmares.  What was going on? There hadn’t been riots in years.

Avenger

Angel Carter couldn’t believe his bad luck. It was supposed to be an easy undercover job. But he should have known by now that nothing in his life was ever easy.

“Buckle up, we’re about to crash.” Angel glanced at Frank Morgan—his inside man on the deep undercover job had gone all to hell. Frank looked rough. His stubble had stubble and there were circles under his eyes. His short dark hair sticking up every which way and the white of the bandage on his side stood out against his skin. Angel hadn’t put a shirt on Frank. Angel licked his lips and he should’ve been ashamed of himself for being turned on when it appeared as if Frank was passed out from lack of blood.

He wasn’t sure if Frank had even heard him, the man had been loopy from the drugs. Getting shot would fuck anyone up. Angel didn’t know how he felt about Frank getting injured or why he felt the need to run when he should have stayed and helped his brother, Alphonse, but every instinct had screamed at him to get Frank and get off the planet. Now they were about to both go down in a hail of metal and fire. If the crash didn’t kill them, the re-entry into Earth just might.

But he was out of options. He was going to the one place he should be safe. Earth had been abandoned for decades after it had almost been destroyed. Reports showed it was liveable again, but the Alliance was keeping it under wraps for now. They wanted to get hard data before letting people re-inhabit the place.

He hoped to hell the reports were right because in T-Minus twenty minutes he was going to find out, first-hand, just how good the air quality was. Angel leaned over and strapped Frank in, taking a moment to caress his cheek. Damn this attraction he had to Frank. It was going to get them both killed—if the ship didn’t kill them first.

“Erik…where…what…?” Frank winced.

Angel wanted to apologise, but really…what could he say? It wasn’t his fault Frank had been involved in a lot of bad shit that had come back to bite him on the ass.

“Frank, you shouldn’t call me that.”

And he shouldn’t have said that. Frank knew Angel was undercover, but not his real name, and now there would be questions. He should have just left it alone. But no—they might die and he didn’t want to lie. Damn it. His timing sucked, but he had a strong pull towards the criminal and he wanted him something fierce.

“Why? It’s your name.” Frank blinked at him—he still seemed a bit out of it.

“Not really.”

Shit, shit, shit. Shut up, man!

“Huh?” Now Frank looked confused on top of being hurt.

“I’ll explain later.” Angel tried to wave it off, but he’d got to know Frank somewhat during the investigation and the man wasn’t going to give up.

“Just explain now.” Frank bit down on his lip as the ship hit a bad run of turbulence.

They were going down fast. The outer shields were burning as they entered the atmosphere. Out of his peripheral vision he could see a blue glow—flames coming from somewhere. It didn’t look good. He had to switch to manual. The computer shut down—he wasn’t sure if that was from the heat inside or if it’d been hit.

“My full name is Angel Erik Carter. You knew I was undercover. I try to stick as close to my name as possible. I used Erik Angel so people still call me Angel—well, except you. Makes it easier. Of course, now you know my last name and you can’t say anything. Not yet. There are too many—”

Shit, Frank had passed out. His head listed to the side. Frank needed help and Angel wasn’t sure he’d be able to do much good with only basic medical skills. Fuck. Frank should be in a base hospital. Angel’s head was all screwed up. He needed to call Alphonse or his dad. Someone had to be able to help him.

The ship began to beep at him. Angel needed to get his head back into the game before the ship was completely wrecked. If the trajectory was just right the craft would be salvageable. A landing in a body of water might work if his maps on board were up to date. Angel always fell behind in getting his ship upgraded and not much of Earth’s terrain was known anymore, at least not by him. Their scientists hadn’t been out there for a really long time as far as Angel was aware. Of course, science wasn’t his forte.

Angel took a quick glance at his passenger. Was Frank getting pale, and was that blood seeping out of the bandage? Landing on an unpopulated planet with a man who could be dying, he’d been in worse situations, right? He could do this. Double damn.

The ship shook so badly Angel feared it would fall apart. Land was in view and there wasn’t a body of water in sight. Of course not. That would’ve made things easier for him. Angel pushed a couple of buttons and reversed thrusters, engaging his emergency landing gear. The Avenger made a god-awful screeching sound. Angel put up a quick prayer as the ship slammed into the ground. He jerked forward, his safety harness biting into his neck. His head hit the console and bounced back against his seat. He blinked as something warm and sticky slid down his face.

He used a hand to wipe it off. Blood. Just what he needed. What else could go wrong? Angel took a moment to collect his thoughts and catalogue any injuries he might have. He wasn’t feeling so hot and his head was spinning from the blow, but that seemed to be the extent of the damage to his person. Angel fumbled with his buckle but couldn’t seem to undo it—his hands kept slipping. He wiped them on his jeans.

An alarm buzzed through the ship. That should have happened sooner—like, on impact. His ship was fucked. Damn it. Smoke was starting to fill the bay. He needed to get up and see how Frank was.

“Come out with your hands up.”

Well, fuck.

Angel shouldn’t have said anything about shit getting worse, because when you put that out there—things went tits up. Earth shouldn’t be populated. Who were these people? Everyone was supposed to have been evacuated and there had been no reports of inhabitants. Frank wasn’t budging and there was no getting out of whatever was going to happen. Angel sighed and took off his harness. He rubbed his shoulder and moved closer to Frank.

“I need you to wake up, Frank.”

Frank just grunted.

“Damn it, Frank, we’ve got a situation here. I need you to wake up.”