[The cumbia is over.]
The announcement, short and dry, cut through the strategic meeting on the rooftop like a knife. The air, which smelled of rust and salt, seemed to freeze. Below, the hypnotic rhythm of the drums ceased abruptly, leaving an unnatural silence that buzzed in the ears.
Everyone turned their attention back to the mob in the distance. Sure enough, the flame of the bonfire had been extinguished, leaving only the red-hot metal of the spear, embedded in the dying embers of the pyre.
[Here come the sacrifices] — Wiston said with a somber expression. Almost immediately, the improvised procession began to move. Figures bound with ropes and chains were dragged on rough planks and broken doors, protruding parts of their bodies scraping against the asphalt in a macabre parade.
As Wiston had mentioned, the sacrifices were varied.
Most were monsters, obviously recognizable either by their size or their unique shapes. But…
[Shit] — Jhon rasped, his voice a knot of choked rage upon recognizing the human figure among the victims.
An icy silence fell over the men on the rooftop. No one had to say anything; the same image flashed in everyone's mind: their comrade, their friend, suffering the same fate. Everyone gritted their teeth as the procession continued below amidst celebratory noises, completely indifferent to the men's pain.
[Kekeke, I see something good] —Astrad said in the midst of the tension. Everyone turned to look at him incredulously, but then followed his gaze.
He didn't care about the human or the monsters; his eyes were fixed on a single goblin among the sacrifices, bound in a particularly humiliating way.
Wiston noticed it too: the praises from a large number of goblins faltered for an instant, but in the end, they regained their "spirit" under the scrutinizing gaze of the orc chief.
[That color…] —Wiston commented, his eyes narrowed, noticing a distinct grayish tone among the goblins, who normally had various shades of green. Still, the color was strangely familiar to him.
[Could it be a relative of the goblin girls?] —Carlos finally asked.
Everyone glanced at Astrad. They already knew what he was like with those goblins and were worried he might do something reckless.
And, just as they thought, the boy's gaze had turned dangerous. But, to their surprise, when they followed it, his eyes weren't on the goblin, or even on the human.
No, they were fixed on something else: the creature at the end of the procession, the farthest one.
Its ragged fur was matted with dried blood and mud, a map of lost battles. Its two eyes had been gouged out long ago, leaving nothing but scars. At a glance, it was the most broken creature among the sacrifices.
But, at the same time, it was the only one that, instead of looking resigned, moved with a brutal fury. It strained its chains to the limit, and its enormous claws roared as they scraped the metal of the door to which it had been chained.
[A tiger?]
[Actually, I think it's a cat.]
[A cat bigger than a car?]
[A big kitty…]
The men tried to comment casually, hoping Astrad would bring them up to speed.
But the boy, usually a loudmouth, remained silent.
Wiston stopped paying attention to the goblins and looked at Astrad instead.
Astrad's hand, until then resting disinterestedly on the edge of the rooftop, clenched with such force that his knuckles turned white. His gritted teeth marked his jaw; his eyes flashed with a murderous intent completely different from what he had shown before.
It was cold and methodical, but at the same time, it burned with an uncontainable anger, like a wild animal about to launch at its prey's throat.
In that moment, Wiston noticed it. In the distance, the enormous, violent animal had stopped moving. Instead, its scarred face had turned towards them.
No, it was "looking" at Astrad.
And he wasn't the only one who noticed; the orc chief did too. He exchanged a look between the cat and Astrad before flashing a malicious smile.
With a gesture of his hand, the cat was moved away from the rest of the sacrifices and placed next to the orc king's throne.
With deliberately slow and provocative gestures, the orc placed his foot on the cat's head, forcing it against the ground. The beast, however, no longer struggled. It kept its attention fixed on Astrad, in absolute silence.
[Gehehehe.]
Astrad's cold laugh made even Wiston, a veteran of hundreds of battlefields, shudder.
On the other side, the cat lowered its head; its agitated breathing calmed, and its entire dominant bearing disappeared.
To most, it looked as if it had given up.
But the sharpest eyes saw it: it was not the calm of defeat, but that of a beast awaiting its opportunity.
Of course, the orc chief noticed it, but far from getting nervous.
["GRA… GRAHAHAHA… GRAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"]
Between hoarse laughs that reverberated with an aggression that made the earth tremble, the orc chief rose from his seat, battle axe in hand.
["GRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"]
He shouted with fury as he raised both hands, as if signaling the start of the tournament, but his eyes remained fixed on Astrad.
In an instant, the rivalry and respect from warrior to warrior had transformed into a declaration of intent.
[You're already dead, you son of a bitch.] ["GRRRR."]
One of the two had to die that day.
...….
[The sacrifices begin at the end of the tournament, right?] —Astrad asked. His voice had returned to normal, but it still concealed a methodical intent, different from his usual chaos.
[Yes] —Wiston replied without saying much more. He knew that, whatever he did, he couldn't stop him, just as no one could have stopped him in his youth.
[Are there any active vehicles?]
[We managed to repair some armored ones. Unfortunately, we missed the chance to retreat and ended up trapped by the very barricades we set up.]
[Good, bring the C4, the grenades, and all the smoke bombs.]
Everyone's eyes widened. The combination of words sounded like madness from start to finish.
[Hey! You're not thinking what I think you're thinking, are you?] —Jhon asked. There was a hint of urgency in his voice as he shot glances at Wiston, as if looking for help to convince him.
But Wiston kept his gaze fixed on Astrad, who returned it without flinching.
[I thought the plan was to let them kill each other and run for it] —Wiston finally asked, his face solemn.
[And it still is.] – Astrad replied before pointing to the orc chief in the distance – [After I wipe that stupid smile off his ugly face.]
[…Guhuhu, what a coincidence, I've been itching to do that exact same thing] —Wiston replied, his old face twisting into a savage laugh he hadn't shown in years.
[Kekeke, got any ideas?] [Let's talk, my dear grandson. Guhuhu.]
The rest of the men on the roof watched the scene with incredulous expressions. The exhaustion that weighed on their shoulders seemed to evaporate, replaced by an icy adrenaline. Eventually, their faces also slowly twisted into a murderous laugh, as they joined the two and shared ideas.
[These bastards are broken…] —Carlos complained with resignation, before joining the macabre planning session.
...….
The underground parking garage was a concrete tomb. The air, cold and stale, smelled of old gasoline and dampness. The only light came from old bulbs that flickered intermittently, casting long, dancing shadows.
[All set] —Jhon said with some reluctance as he closed the truck's trunk, after finishing programming the C4. The metallic sound echoed in the silence.
He then walked to the side, where Astrad was finishing adjusting the straps on his gear. The click of magazines snapping into their holsters echoed in the precarious place.
[This is the switch] —Jhon said, handing him the small detonator. A red LED blinked once as he removed the plastic safety—. [You remove the safety, you press the button, and it goes "boom". Effective range of one hundred meters, understand?]
[Yeah, yeah, the rat kid isn't dumb. It's not the first time he's blown up public property] —Astrad replied, putting his hood back on.
He had set aside most of the practical items to improve his mobility, a calculated sacrifice. Pistols on his thighs, knives and grenades on his chest. And the hand axes on his back. He was equipped for a fight, not an expedition.
[Did you just admit to vandalism in the face of a police officer? Inside a police station?]
[The rat kid doesn't remember such a thing.]
[It just happened.]
[If I don't remember it, it didn't happen.]
[Ahhh… Remember not to die, or all my effort with Yumi will go to waste] —Jhon said between sighs, as Astrad got into the truck.
[Kekeke, in fact, it's the other way around. In her moment of vulnerability, you can finally make your move] —Astrad replied sarcastically as he checked the riot shield he had tied to the driver's door.
[Heh, I'll keep that in mind.]
In the midst of their conversation.
[Hey, can you two stop talking as if we're already dead?] —Carlos complained as he put on a gas mask. The men in the back of his truck nodded in vigorous agreement.
[Has anyone ever told you that you ruin the atmosphere?]
[You talk just like my sister.]
[Kekeke] —Astrad mocked as he also put on a mask.
Jhon and two other police officers who had helped prepare everything stepped aside as the truck engines began to roar.
At that moment, the parking garage lights flickered violently and died. The world was plunged into absolute darkness for two long seconds, the roar of the engines the only sound. Then, with a high-pitched hum, the emergency lights came back on, bathing everything in a sickly red.
[Those are the emergency lights] —Jhon said, narrowing his eyes. His voice was tense.
[Why do I feel like this isn't normal?] —Carlos asked.
[It's too soon. Not impossible, but rare] —Jhon said as he sent a meaningful look to his colleagues.
[Forget it, focus on the plan. Go up and give us cover] —Astrad interrupted before Jhon and the others could move, his knuckles already white from gripping the truck's steering wheel with excessive force.
[Are you sure? If it's sabotage, Sophie and the others could be in trouble soon] —Jhon asked carefully.
Astrad nodded.
[What's your point? If they fail, we're dead; if we fail, we're dead. We all do what we have to do and trust the other to do their part] —he said, looking at Jhon and the others through his mask.
[Now go up and do your part] —he concluded.
Jhon and the others hesitated, but in the end, they nodded and left in a hurry.
In the dark parking garage where only two running engines could be heard.
[Kid, you really broke me out of jail just to get me killed, didn't you?] —Carlos asked sarcastically.
[Kekeke, did you want to live forever?]
The blatant response made Carlos flash an amused grimace, but before he could reply, the call came over the radio.
[Everyone in position… Kid, don't die at our first party.]
With the signal, the first to take off was Carlos.
[And miss my sponge bath? You wish] —Astrad spat. His hands strayed to the radio, pausing for an instant.
It would only take a simple movement to contact the girls.
[Kekeke] —in the end, he pulled his hand away with a dry laugh.
His eyes were fixed on the exit, as he adjusted the vehicle to set it in motion.
[My vixens can handle one asshole in a suit and a mob of sissies] —he said and slammed the accelerator.