**Hey readers, a quick note! CEU posts are a new type of self contained story. They’re part of the ‘Cryopod Extended Universe’. They aren’t normal parts, and they may or may not be canon, including before and after the rewrite in the future, but if you like Cryopod, you may enjoy these types of posts as time goes on! Anyway, hope you like the short story!**

……………………………………

The sound of gunfire echoes against the walls of the shooting range. I don’t come to places like these often, but I’m a desperate man, and sometimes I have to break the rules. My heart trembles every time a boom rips through the hallway, but the earmuffs protect my hearing from the worst of it. My carefully waxed black suede shoes rap satisfyingly against the metal-plated ground, though I can’t hear the pleasant scrunch of every step thanks to the safety muffs.

I pull a lighter out of my pocket and light up a stogie, puffing on it to get the burn going real good. One man fires a shotgun just ten feet away, startling me and making me drop my lighter. I shouldn’t be so damn nervous, but who wouldn’t be? I mean… I have to talk to… that man.

I’ve heard the stories about what he can do. The world’s ultimate assassin. He’s never been caught, and the only reason the government won’t arrest him, even though they’re sending a chump like me to speak with him, is because they’re afraid of him. Four times they’ve busted down the door to a place he was staying at, only for him to vanish into the mist.

The Wind Devil. That’s what they call him.

Untouchable. Unkillable. Out of everyone’s jurisdiction. Make the wrong move, and he’ll slit my throat without hesitation. Even if he doesn’t, his sharpshooting skills are legendary. I’ll have my brains blown out three weeks from now inside the safety of my home… but only if I anger him.

I slip the lighter back where I got it, then puff on my joes, just to try and calm myself. It isn’t working very well. Goddamn hands won’t stop shaking.

The walls slide past, and I walk down the wide hallway looking carefully for the Wind Devil. This facility is one of the biggest shooting ranges in Virginia, at 60,000 square feet in size, and it takes a long time to get around the damn thing. I pass parents with their children, a fat guy sitting in a lawn chair, lazily shooting his pistol without aiming, and even a man in military fatigues looking to blow off some steam. Some people are here for fun, but others are here prepping for the end of the world, Armageddon, and maybe even World War III. Knowing what I do about their government, it’s a smart move. Between all the families with heel-biters, bachelors looking for some alone time, and even a stray cat running around, this place is like a microcosm of America’s greater whole.

All at once, my heart slams in my chest as I spot the man I’m looking for. He’s Japanese, with a long scruffy beard, and wearing a black cowboy hat, trenchcoat, and jeans. The sort of guy you wouldn’t notice if the room was dimly lit. He’s down on one knee, aiming a colossal goddamn sniper rifle at a solid oak plank of wood, carved in the shape of a human. No bullet holes that I can see, but he probably swapped it out recently. His rifle though… I’m terrible with guns, but I can see it’s fucking huge. It’s probably what, three feet long? I’m probably shorting it, honestly. The barrel alone is a foot and a half, and that’s just me estimating.

Here I am, thinking I might not even find him, and he’s just sitting here shooting like everyone else, not a care in the world. I mean, that makes sense when I think about it, given he can probably kill anyone who messes with him using just his bare hands.

My body shakes as I creep up behind him, but I’m all at once uncomfortable with the fact that if I startle or spook him, I’m a dead man. I start to open my mouth to say something, but at that instant, he pulls the trigger.

BATAAM!

A stupidly loud explosion rings through the room, muffled only somewhat by my hearing protection. The sound waves from the gun make my insides tremble, and I can only imagine what he feels, being right next to it.

I want to say something now, but I glance toward the plank of wood he’s been shooting at. It’s untouched. Is he firing blanks? Did the bullet miss? Only now do I notice the bullet traps behind the targets people are shooting at. The bullets pass inside a wide steel-entryway, get narrowed down into a progressively smaller exit, which then empties into a container that allows the bullet to spin around and lose its inertia until it falls harmlessly into a bucket down below.

At least, that’s how it would work in theory. Instead, massive bullet casings, probably two or three inches in length, litter the ground outside the traps. There must be a couple hundred sitting there.

Has he been here all day? Is he missing every shot? How could the world’s greatest sharpshooter have such terrible aim?

Even as I ask the question, he fires another shot. This time, I barely make out the edge of the wood plank chip off, and a second later the bullet falls to the ground, joining its brothers in the small pile below.

I almost feel happy. I thought he was an untouchable assassin, but it seems the rumors were just rumors. The guy can’t hit a shot for shit.

"Excuse me? Can I, uh, get a moment of your time?" I can barely even hear my voice through the sound of gunfire, and I’m about to yell louder, but he visibly stiffens.

He doesn’t even turn to look at who’s talking. "You’re government. Daniel White. Mid-level CIA."

They aren’t questions. A familiar feeling of sickness comes over me. How the hell does he know who I am? I ain’t anybody high up. "Yeah. You’re the Wind Devil, right?"

His voice, rough like the sound of an Oldsmobile with a choked tailpipe, is deep enough to turn my stomach. "If you think you can take me down, I hope you don’t value your life."

I force myself to stand up a little straighter and to keep my cool. The bastard still hasn’t looked at me yet. "I’m not here to cause trouble. The government’s given up on taking you down. Instead, I’m here to give you a deal."

He shakes his head slowly, but his shoulders relax slightly. "I don’t make deals with the feds."

"We need your help." I blurt the words out, instantly kicking myself on the inside. "W-we have a target we need you to assassinate. The Prime Minister of Poland. He’s in our way, and is opposing a key piece of legislation that will-"

"Kill a fella. That’s what you want me to do?" He finally turns his head slightly back, and I spot a look of disgust in his eye. "A human life is sacred. I don’t kill anyone unless I’ve got a good reason. Like when they annoy me or piss me off, for example."

I look past him to the plank of wood he’s barely damaged. I see, now. He’s not a heartless assassin, and he’s a terrible shot too. I had him pegged wrong, and so did the government.

"Forget it. I’ve got the wrong guy. You aren’t up to the task." I start to turn away, but through the hail of gunfire all around me, I hear a growling sound.

"Are you making fun of me?"

I quickly spin around to see a look in his eye that might be anger, might be acceptance, and could even be a death glare. It’s hard to tell with the bandana covering the lower half of his face. Either way, I’m suddenly scared again.

"That isn’t my intention…"

He stares at me for just two seconds before turning his attention back to the gun. With a single button press on the console to his side, the plank of wood pulls backward, to the furthest point away possible. A moment later, he adjusts his shoulder position, tenses up, and fires.

Perhaps it’s my imagination, but the feeling of a massive shockwave passes me when the bullet fires. It’s almost as if by concentrating his mind, he’s able to make the bullet shoot forward twenty times faster than normal. When the moment of surprise is over, I look up at the target and gasp. Everything from the neck down is gone. Chunks and pieces of wood are strewn everywhere.

The Wind Devil glares at me. "Satisfied?"

I feel suspicious again, despite my optimism. "Why did you miss so many shots earlier if you’re this accurate?"

He turns back to the target and shifts his knee a little bit. It’s probably getting cramped, since he kneels on the hard concrete the whole time. Not even a pillow for comfort.

"I didn’t miss. I hit exactly where I aimed."

A thought comes to mind. "You were trying to hit just the edges of the target?"

He chuckles, "How about that, the man can use his brain."

Despite his bland humor, my mind is spinning with the possibilities. He’s even better than I had hoped he would be. "The government needs your talents, Wind Devil. We’re willing to pay top dollar. A million dollars."

He groans, "Is that it? Stop wasting my time. I’d only consider doing a job like this for a hundred million."

"A hundred million?! That’s crazy! We could fly a legion of B17’s overhead and drop a hundred bombs for that price! You’re out of your mind!"

He lowers his head solemnly. "The military gets what, five hundred billion a year? You’re asking me to risk my life and kill the leader of a powerful nation. I’m not sticking my neck out for pennies."

Well, at least he has a price. I can work with this. "Twenty million."

He shakes his head, "Chump change."

"Thirty million."

"I’ll kill you right now."

"F-fifty…"

He slowly starts to reach under his trenchcoat, and I spot the telltale lump of a pistol at his waist. I suddenly realize that I don’t care about the USA’s budget anymore. "Eighty million! That’s all I can do!"

He glances back at me in surprise. "Fine. Eighty million. You’ve got nerves of steel. I like that."

My ‘nerves’ are about to fizzle out. "Alright, well, I’ll go grab the files from my car."

He sighs. "Piotr Jaroszewicz, right? That’s the target. Piece of cake, he’ll be dead by week’s end."

I can barely summon the will to keep my jaw from coming ajar. "How could you know that?"

"Prime Minister of Poland. Duh. You said it yourself. Get out of here. I’ll give you directions on how to contact me in a few days, Mr. White."

"How will you do that?"

He shifts position to his other knee and aims at what’s left of the target. "I know exactly where you live. I hope for your sake that money shows up, right on time."

My heart is like a firetruck barreling toward the edge of a cliff. "Thank you, Mr. Wind Devil, sir."

He turns back to me and scowls. "I hate that nickname."

I just nod and walk away, not wanting to offend him anymore. My heart is racing, but everything seemed to go well. If I’m lucky, I’ll survive this ordeal, and maybe even get promoted.

He accepted!

The words play over and over in my mind until finally, I arrive back at the surveillance van outside. Ivan throws the side door open, and I hop in, then he slams it behind me.

"I did it. He accepted."

To my surprise, nobody in the car reacts. Everyone stares at me silently. Ivan does nod, at least. "Good to hear."

That takes the wind out of my sails, so I just slump into my seat. "I thought you guys would be happier."

Markov scratches his cheek as he eyes the computer on his lap. It’s the size of a duffel bag, easily the smallest tech available in the world. "We pulled security camera footage from inside. Look at what we found."

He struggles to spin the computer around to face me. I’m surprised to see a video of myself speaking to the Wind Devil playing.

"What’s this?"

Markov shakes his head. "Just watch. You’ll see."

…………………………………

BATAAM! The bullet speeds forward and vanishes in an instant. I can only scowl at the target in response. Another miss.

He’ll be here any second. That agent guy, from the FBI or whatever. He’s going to clear his throat to get my attention, and this time, I won’t screw up. The agent is like a fortress. I haven’t been able to faze him yet, but this time will be different.

I pull the lever back and pop the bullet out of my M24, then aim.

BATAAM!

Another shot speeds at the block of wood, but this time it only grazes the side. Not again.

My ears perk up, but I don’t look back, as I hear the sound of a throat clearing. "Excuse me? Can I, uh, get a moment of your time?"

I didn’t expect him for another thirty seconds. I must have miscalculated. Oh well. Play it cool.

"You want my time? I’ve got all the time in the world."

Nice. That sounded slick. The agent’s hand moves and I turn my head around just enough to see him scratching at his neck. Whew. For a second there, I thought he was reaching for a piece. But of course he wasn’t, I already checked him the first two times. I’m just a little too paranoid.

"You’re the Wind Devil, right?" The agent’s eyes, burning like coals on an open fire, seem to eye me up and down.

I finally turn to look him right in the fires of his soul. "Yeah. Who are you?"

Only now do I want to smack myself in the forehead. I should have gotten his name the first few times around! I’m not going to look badass if I don’t know it! Idiot!

"My name isn’t important. All that matters is the American people need your help."

The agent stares at me intensely, and I can already feel my teeth grind. Bastard. If you won’t tell me your name…

I reach inside my coat with a flourish and pull out my handgun, then aim it at him. "Your wallet. Give it to me."

My hands are shaking slightly, but luckily the agent doesn’t seem to notice. He keeps his cool, to his credit, and slowly reaches back around to pull out what I asked for. "Ah, sure. Let’s not be aggressive, Mr. Wind Devil, sir."

I hate that moniker so much.

He stares in silence as I grab the wallet away. I flip it open with my free hand and look at his ID. Daniel White. CIA. Special Investigations blah blah blah.

I toss the wallet back at him and sigh. "That wasn’t hard now, was it?"

A moment later, I activate my ability.

Replay.

Time unravels as the fabric of reality pauses and begins playing in reverse. My body moves of its own accord, and I’m unable to resist.

I stick the gun back in my jacket and pivot to look back at the target. The agent rapidly steps backward and out the door at the far end of the hallway. Two bullets spin back inside my M24, and suddenly time returns to normal. I take a breath involuntarily.

The ability to manipulate time. Nobody on Earth that I’ve met has a power like mine. Hell, there isn’t a soul on Earth with anything resembling superpowers. My father told me once how I gained them. It wasn’t a pretty story. At least one good thing came out of the internment camps.

But that’s in the past. I just want to live an ordinary life. If this Daniel White guy wants something from me, he’ll have to earn it.

A minute later, and we’re back to the same old routine, only this time, I know his name.

"You’re government. Daniel White. Mid-level CIA."

I can almost hear him exhale in astonishment. "Yeah. You’re the Wind Devil, right?"

No, stupid, that isn’t my name. I resist the urge to mouth off at him. "If you think you can take me down, I hope you don’t value your life."

His posture improves noticeably. "I’m not here to cause trouble. The government’s given up on taking you down. Instead, I’m here to give you a deal."

Uh. That’s unexpected. What would the ‘Wind Devil’ say in a situation like this? Wait, I’ve got it.

"Blow it out your ass."

My words make him take a step back. "Uh, pardon?"

Shit. That wasn’t cool at all! What a stupid thing to say, idiot!!

Let’s try again. Replay.

We go through the motions once more. "I’m not here to cause trouble. The government’s given up on taking you down. Instead, I’m here to give you a deal."

Alright. This time I’ve got the perfect response. "I don’t make deals with the feds."

Daniel’s sweating now. Maybe. I have to play hard to get. If he wants to offer me a deal, I’ll listen. I can’t act too eager though, or he’ll stiff me.

"We need your help." His voice is icy. He’s not buying my act. "W-we have a target we need you to assassinate. The Prime Minister of Poland. He’s in our way, and is opposing a key piece of legislation that will-"

I see where he’s going with this already. I thought a ‘deal’ would entail immunity, but instead, it seems the government wants the assistance of the ‘world’s greatest assassin.’

I cut him off before he can finish. "Kill a fella. That’s what you want me to do?" I look back at him, but his posture is like steel. My interruption didn’t unnerve him at all. "A human life is sacred. I don’t kill anyone unless I’ve got a good reason. Like when they piss me off, for example."

His eyes lift up to look past me, at the piece of wood I keep missing. "Forget it. I’ve got the wrong guy. You aren’t up to the task."

He called me out?! This piece of shit. He turns to walk away and I start feeling a little nervous. I’ve gotta say something smooth. "Are you making fun of me?"

He stops and glances back at me cooly. "That isn’t my intention."

Daniel must be testing me. I can’t blame him. Nobody knows my secret. I quickly reach forward and tap a button on the shooting range console, and the chunk of wood yanks all the way back to the 300 meter mark.

An instant later, my eyes are on the sights, aiming downrange at the target. Line it up…

BATAAM!

The shot sails forward and- COMPLETELY MISSES?! Worthless, stupid pile of-

Okay, that’s fine. I’ll just try again.

Replay.

I only go back a few seconds, to just before I fired the shot. Aiming, I fire once again-

AND MISS BY AN INCH!

"Useless stupid fucking goddamn gun!" I’m on my feet in an instant, stomping and kicked the piece of hardware, even as Daniel stares at me silently. The M24 clatters to the ground, and Daniel coughs into his fist.

"I didn’t expect this."

"Fuck off, you little pansy bitch."

I can insult him all I want. Replay.

Once again, I aim carefully, but this time, I’ve had enough. Concentrating with all my might, I pull the trigger.

Time slows down to an absolute crawl. Milliseconds take a full minute at this level of slowdown. The bullet exits the chamber, and I jump up to run ahead of it, leaving afterimages in my wake. Squeezing past the bullet, I run to the target and watch silently as the bullet crawls through the air at me.

It takes almost thirty seconds, but I can only scowl as I see its intended path. I was going to miss by around four inches.

Waiting until the last possible moment, I tap the bullet toward the wood and smile in satisfaction as it starts to connect with the center. In a flash, I run back and hop into my previous position, all of this having taken under a tenth of a second in real time.

With a single breath, I resume normal time and flinch as a familiar shockwave explodes around me. Moving as much as I just did in slowed time usually causes an invisible energy wave to blast out, and on one occasion it knocked a lady off her feet, but it’s usually nothing too serious.

I keep my cool and glance away from the now destroyed plank of wood and back to Daniel nonchalantly. "Satisfied?"

He only looks slightly impressed. Once again, the bastard calls my bluff. "Why did you miss so many shots earlier if you’re this accurate?"

The gods must have forged Daniel out of diamonds. Nothing gets past him. However, I have a standard excuse that works on everyone. "I didn’t miss. I hit where I aimed."

And for once, he takes the bait. "You were trying to hit just the edges of the target?"

Aw yeah. I love it when that happens. "How about that, the man can use his brain."

Daniel’s eyes finally light up. "The government needs your talents, Wind Devil. We’re willing to pay top dollar. A million dollars."

He blurts this out suddenly, and it catches me off guard. A million dollars? Jesus Christ, that would be the biggest haul I’ve ever made! But still, this is the first time the government’s ever made an offer to me. I can’t let the opportunity go to waste.

I stand up and lean against the wall. "I want more."

Daniel raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. "Two million."

"Come on, more."

He seems very hesitant. "I guess… I could do five?"

Ugh, I always forget the basics of negotiation.

Replay.

"We’re willing to pay top dollar. A million dollars."

Once again, he gives me that calm look, knowing somehow that I can’t say no, but I’ve already decided to try something outlandish. "Is that it? Stop wasting my time. I’d only consider it for a hundred million dollars."

For once, his steeled facade cracks and a look of shock passes over his face. "A hundred million? That’s crazy! We could fly a legion of B17’s overhead and drop a hundred bombs for that cost! You’re out of your mind!"

I lean against my gun and look away. "The military gets what, five hundred billion a year? You’re asking me to risk my life and kill the leader of a powerful nation. I’m not sticking my neck out for pennies."

To my surprise, he counter-offers. "Twenty million." The offer is ten times the amount I offered the first time. Psychology, I love it!

"Chump change." I put a little growl in my voice.

"Thirty million."

I think he might be a little scared now, but this is working. I need to find his upper limit. "I’ll kill you right now."

He starts to offer me fifty million, but this time I deliberately flash my pistol at him. "Eighty million! That’s all I can do!"

I worked hard, and it paid off. This is a lucky break. With that kind of money, I can put my wife in a better home.

"Fine. Eighty million. You’ve got nerves of steel. I like that." For once, I speak the truth. Daniel is an iron-willed man. He’ll probably end up running the FBI someday. If he keeps up that powerful gaze, I’m sure he’ll go far in life.

"Alright, well, I’ll go grab the files from my car."

Time to surprise him again. After waiting and replaying time once again, I sigh dramatically. "Piotr Jaroszewicz, right? That’s the target? Piece of cake, he’ll be dead by week’s end."

There’s a bunch of suits in the van outside, so he’s probably keeping them available for backup, but they can’t lay a hand on me. I’ll just go back until I find a safe place, and they’ll never catch me. Anyway, once I confirmed all of that, finding out who he wanted me to kill was a cinch.

Daniel can’t keep the shock from his eyes this time. "How could you know that?"

"Prime Minister of Poland. Duh. You said it yourself. Get out of here. I’ll give you directions on how to contact me in a few days, Mr. White."

I wave my hand dismissively at him, but he doesn’t move to leave yet. "How will you do that?"

The memory of his photo ID appears in my mind, and I turn back to my rifle once again. "I know exactly where you live. I hope for your sake that money shows up, right on time."

"Thank you, Mr. Wind Devil, sir."

I don’t even hesitate. My head spins to glare at him. "I hate that nickname."

No response. Daniel just bows his head and scurries away.

I’ve still got it, after all these years. Carefully cultivating my reputation as the world’s most untouchable assassin has finally paid off in spades. Everything is going to be perfect now.

I give myself a pat on the back and signal for one of the shooting range personnel to come put a new target up for me.