Jackal flexed his wrist, adding more throttle to the bike. His engine roared across the rocky nothingness of the Outer Ring, two blacked-out vehicles and four motorcycles quick on his tail. Gunfire echoed as he twisted his bike, narrowly dodging a hail of bullets aimed at him.
"They don't take rejection well, do they?" he joked to himself in a deprecating tone.
He sat on his trusty old bike" Angelica", the one that had accompanied him through thick and thin. Thunder clapped in the distance as rain clouds rolled in. Rain was rare in the Outer Ring, but definitely not unwelcome—especially in his situation.
He winced every once in a while, just a reminder of the bloodied stump that used to be his arm. Well, what was left of it anyway. It was his favorite too—women sure thought so.
"You're dead, Jackal!! Dead!!!" a clearly furious munchkin screamed from his bike as he closed the distance.
Was he one of the guys of a woman Jackal had slept with? An ex?
…Probably.
Letting go of the throttle, he drew his sidearm and fired three shots. One whizzed past the munchkin's head, deflected off his helmet, and struck another goon, killing him instantly. The bike crashed into the ground and slammed into one of the vehicles tailing him.
Like a domino effect, the car tried to swerve but ended up crashing.
The other two bullets sliced through the air but missed their targets.
"Never was good with my left... at this rate, I'll be a goner."
He was almost out of ammo, and with a blown-off arm still bleeding, things weren't looking great. A few days earlier, everything had been simpler. He never would've thought a simple Hollow retrieval job would almost cost him his life.
Well… if he survives this, retirement doesn't sound so bad.
'Maybe I'll open up a shop or something.'
More bullets whizzed past, striking the road beside him.
Right! Getting chased by an angry biker gang.
He gritted his teeth, pulled the front of the bike up for just a second, and fired a few rounds over his shoulder. Two bikes behind him went down hard, metal screeching against rock.
A single raindrop hit his cracked goggles. Then another. Then a full downpour.
Jackal grinned. "Finally, something goes my way."
Taking advantage of the weather, he swerved his bike right, accelerating toward the valley. It was too dangerous to drive in terrain like this—flash floods, wet and slippery ground—but perfect for his predicament.
Riding onward, he reached one of the valley's openings. Before entering, he threw his last grenade and a smoke bomb to distract his remaining pursuers, then headed straight into the valley.
---
The munchkin skidded to a halt near the valley entrance. He threw his helmet onto the wet ground and screamed, "YOU'RE NOT ESCAPING, JACKAL!!!"
Once a lion sinks its fangs into prey, it never lets go.
The car and other cyclist stopped beside their boss and looked toward the valley. It was known for being a massive, rocky maze. No way they'd find him in there without getting lost.
"What should we do now, Mr. Spanner? Jackal's the only one who knows the location of the key, and we lost him. The boss isn't gonna be happy… and if he's not happy, it's our heads on the chopping block," a rotund biker with a gold tooth chirped, clearly nervous at the mention of the boss.
The others shared his sentiment but said nothing.
Mr. Spanner grit his yellow-stained teeth… then smiled.
If Jackal saw that smile, he'd definitely recommend him to a good dentist.
"Don't worry. No problem. No problem at all. Jackal might think he's clever, but we of the Mountain Lion Gang haven't been twiddling our thumbs in the Outer Ring all these years for nothing."
He walked over to the car and grabbed his phone.
"If memory serves me right, there should be three main exits to this valley. Two of them are prone to flash floods, leaving only one viable escape route. All we need to do is have the others cover the exits, and while that's happening, we send a few men inside to get a general read on his location. And boom! We've got ourselves a Jackal."
"That's brilliant, Mr. Spanner! No wonder the boss made you his right-hand man," one of the goons praised.
Spanner, the vain munchkin that he was, cackled arrogantly at the praise.
"While I go set up the blockade, you lot make yourselves useful and guard this entrance—just in case that desert cockroach thought of turning back."
Mr. Spanner then put on his helmet and rode off to inform the boss and organize the others.
---
Angelica purred to a stop at a narrow cave opening. Looked like his plan had worked. And if he was right, Mr. Fun Size and the rest of his crew were probably waiting to ambush him at the exit.
Fortunately, a few years back, he'd been caught in a similar sticky situation—and found himself in this exact cave. 'If nothing's changed, this cave should lead me straight to the northwest stretch near Highway 66. I'll lose them easily. Might have to call in a few favors, but by the time they figure out I'm not here… it'll be too late.'
"I guess here's as good a place as any to take a rest. Not gonna be much with the pain, but any rest is better than no rest. Let's deal with this tourniquet first."
Jackal looked over to his arm and grabbed another tourniquet from his bike. Not much, but it'd have to do. He'd lost a lot of blood, and if he didn't get it treated, it'd likely get infected.
After six hours of straight riding, he laid against the hard rock, closed his eyes, gun at his side—just in case.
Slowly but surely, the stress and blood loss got to him, and he passed out to the sound of rain and thunder.
BOOOM. Crack!!
Jack jolted awake, breath erratic, eyes darting as he raised his gun. Something had just happened. A cave collapse? Had the Mountain Lion Gang already made their move?
He stood slowly and moved toward the source of the noise. If it was the exit, and it had collapsed, he was pretty much screwed.
Unfortunately—or fortunately—it was none of those things.
Peeking his head around the corner, he found… a box?
A… no, that's no normal box. It looks super high-tech.
It had strange symbols and glowing runes etched into its sides. A language he'd never seen.
In his current state, better judgment said walk away immediately—but the Hollow Raider and treasure hunter in him boiled to the surface and won.
He stepped forward cautiously, finger on the trigger.
No reaction.
Another step. Then another. He grew more confident, his strides lengthening.
Until it did react.
A loud hiss rang out, and a needle shot from the side—stopping just an inch from his neck, right near the artery.
Jackal froze. "What the hell!?"
Glowing letters appeared on the cave wall. Some kind of text. Looked like gibberish—symbols and unreadable letters.
Below it, a timer.
15… 14… 13…
"Oh come on… you're kidding me, right?"
He aimed his gun and fired at the needle.
Ting!
Nothing. Not even a dent. Whatever this thing was made of, it was tougher than his Hollow Alloy-tipped bullets.
12… 11… 10…
The needle started heating up. Steam hissed from it. Definitely not a regular shot. That thing was made to kill.
"Alright! I get it!" Jackal shouted, backing up slightly, mind racing.
9… 8… 7…
"I hate this. I really, really hate this."
Slowly, he raised his hand. Not like he had any better options. Either let it stab him… or get stabbed anyway.
6… 5…
He stepped forward and pressed his hand to the spot on the box that looked like a scanner. The needle tracked his movement.
4… 3…
The second he touched it, the needle jabbed into his neck.
"GAH!" he grunted, stumbling back as something was injected into him. It burned for a second—then went cold, spreading through his chest and down his legs.
"What the hell was that!?" he groaned, gripping his neck.
Then the box hissed again. Steam poured out as the top slid open.
Jackal raised his gun again, bracing for something otherworldly.
Instead…
"…Is that… a baby?"
He stepped closer.
Yep. A baby. And right next to it… was a Bangboo.
"What in the actual fu—?" He lowered his gun, baffled.
What was a baby doing here? Why was it left in a high-tech box?
Before he could think further, his head pulsed. He felt hot. So hot. He dropped to one knee.
Suddenly the heat stopped.
He looked to his arm. No blood. No shredded flesh. No gaping wound.
The nub… was healed.
In seconds.
Not normal. Not at all.
Then something else hit his mind—like a brand on the brain.
Guardian.
He was now this kid's guardian.
Sigh.
Not even in his late twenties, and he had a kid to take care of.
Too dangerous. Should I just leave him at an orphanage—
GAAAAAAH!!!
The heat and pain returned, worse than before.
After two brutal minutes, it subsided.
"FUCK!! I get it—the kid stays with me!"
He understood now. Whatever was in that needle… it wasn't asking. It was commanding.
Jackal chuckled. "Damn. I guess I'll be taking you with me then."
He groaned as he stood, looking the baby over—dark brown skin, a good amount of curly hair, and faint markings around the shoulders and arms.
What kind of parent gives their baby tattoos?
Was this even a normal baby?
The Bangboo stirred. It tilted its head, blinked its red visor, and waved.
Jackal blinked. "…H-hi?"
"Enh-na, nu na, na!"
It waved again. Clearly understood him—at least on a basic level.
Unfortunately, his old Bangboo translator chip broke a few days ago. Another thing to sort out before heading to New Eridu.
The baby shifted, hand stretching out in its sleep. Jackal flinched, half expecting a psychic blast.
Instead, the kid… snored. Kicked once. Rolled onto his side and clung to the Bangboo like a stuffed toy.
Jackal stared at him. Then at his own arm.
Sealed. Smooth. No scar. No stitching.
He glanced at the Bangboo again.
"Tupa, huh?" he read off the front plate, squinting.
"Eh-Naa~" It beamed and nodded.
"That your name? Right… Tupa it is."
He looked at the baby again, then out toward the cave entrance. Rain still pouring.
Morning would come soon. And with it, the rest of the Mountain Lion Gang.
Jackal sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.
"Alright, screw it."
He reached into the box, slid one arm under the baby and the Bangboo. The baby was heavier than expected. Warm, too.
As he lifted him, the kid stirred. Tiny eyes peeked open—deep brown, with a golden tint.
"…Hey, kid. Sorry I shot at your crib."
The baby blinked.
Then kicked him square in the chin.
"OW—!"
He nearly dropped him.
"WHAT THE HELL—!?"
He caught his footing and glared at the baby like it owed him money.
The baby just smiled. Not even sorry.
"Gahahaha~" it giggled, trying to kick him again. He dodged.
"Okay. Strong legs. Noted. Definitely not normal."
Tupa beeped and did a little wiggle.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, you toaster."
Jackal adjusted the baby in his arms, grabbed the hard case the box had ejected earlier, and strapped it on.
Didn't even bother opening it.'If it's important, I'll figure it out later.'
"Alright… let's get the hell outta here before my fan club shows up."
He turned back to his bike, rain dripping off the cave roof.
"Name's Jackal, by the way," he muttered to the baby. "Though I guess… if I'm your guardian now, you'll need a name too, huh?"
He thought for a second.
Then it popped into his head.
"…Tata."
The baby blinked again.
"You like that? Tata Barbosa."
A tiny giggle escaped the baby's mouth.
Jackal looked down at him. "…Yeah. You're gonna be a handful."
He took one last glance at the box—now sealed shut and sunken into the ground.
Like it had never existed.
He tightened his grip on the kid, wrapped both him and the Bangboo in a makeshift harness, and started up Angelica.
ROAAAAR!
"Let's go, kid. We've got a long ride ahead."
"EH NAAAA!!!"
Tupa let out an excited cheer as they rode deeper into the cave.
This would be the start of something Jackal never could have imagined. No not jackal, now he was only going to be known as Enzo Barbosa.