Timber… Timber… Timber, wake up!"
Antonio and I have been awake for the past two hours, staring at and contemplating how we'll possibly test these without contacting the school. We could, for the sake of the mission and providing information, but there's a specific way to go about it and we're not in a dire enough situation for it to be approved. We need to prove that the cacti are involved somehow to either our task or the possibility of it affecting people internationally, and currently, our only evidence is just some psychos that were high off their asses with this as the primary source of nutrients.
Doesn't help that it's suspicious for some random people who appeared out of nowhere to suddenly get access to lab equipment either. No, we'll either have to do this the unethical way or the stone-age way; test on live subjects, or do the process with what we have and risk impurities or inaccurate results.
A harsh rumbling rises not too far from our tent, Antonio is the first to exit, soon tapping my leg behind him to follow suit. When I stand, the rumbling has already lessened but not halted, and before us, our targets are all scrounging around, five act civilly, walking up and chatting with us, while the others scurry about, tearing tents apart and tackling women. I compose myself, choosing to ignore their savage movements as commonplace as we converse with the targets.
Two of the five are the three men we saw originally, the high-pitched one, now in close proximity, is clearly a shorter male, but muscular. The second one is the man who bought the car equipment from us, well, 'bought.' The three joining them appear to be women—perhaps their lovers?
"Have you guys heard about the raid taking place in this area?" The high pitched male starts, indifferent. Did the guy we kill really not matter that much? He seemed to be a pretty prominent figure.
We shake our heads, lying, Antonio has been keeping an ear out, maintaining his presence with the locals as a kind, approachable man. He's been the informant during this mission, yet, despite all the people he's been talking to, we haven't received much information regarding the drugs that are apparently grappling this land.
Doesn't help that it appears that nearly everyone is on it. Even the elderly lady from before seems to be losing her mind now.
"Well then, there's a raid today, and the two of you will be joining us. Now get ready, this should be easy considering our numbers." The short one waves his hand in the air dismissively, turning on his heel as he rounds up his team. Shushi, one of our three main targets, he's short and sounds easy to take down, but he's a master when it comes to explosives and chemical compounds.
"Bring your own truck," the average one adds, doing the same as they head to their cars. "You'll need the brute strength and size." Leon, used to be an architect but then transferred over to engineering after finishing school; his parents loved and cared for him as a child, but that wasn't enough to keep him on the short and narrow.
He killed them to earn his spot here.
Seeing and hearing them both together and up close, it's much easier to discern who they are from the files we were given. They may be maniacs and drug dealers, but we must also keep in mind that they are geniuses too, in their own right.
Even if they prioritize technology and science, we must still remain at peak performance. A single slip up, no matter how minor, could risk them finding out about us in an instant, and if that happens, they'll stop at nothing to make sure we're taken out.
We follow their lead, hopping into our truck and keeping pace with them as they lead us around the borders of the town. The outskirts are far more disorderly than the center; the shops, what I suspect is this nation's black market, are just barrels for tables, with scruffed up people sitting by them on planks of wood or leaning on a nearby structure. There are still families as well, though they somehow manage to be far more impoverished than the rest; instead of tents, they live under cardboard boxes and splintered planks of wood. Or under their own clothing.
After practically no time, we stop outside of a solid structure, a collection of them—clearly a more wealthy neighbourhood. We take our time to exit our vehicle, watching the others as they carry bats, sledgehammers, and shovels. They all run for one of the two-story sandstone buildings, orange, just like the rest, with all of them also shaped like cubes, broken windows on the lower floors, replaced with metal bars and blankets.
We catch up outside the door with the rest of them, they toss us both some extra bats, lined with rusty nails. Then, Leon begins silently counting down from three on his fingers, and the moment his hand makes a fist, the door is kicked in.
And hell begins.
The screams aren't instantaneous, but the father is the first to be heard. The entryway is dusty and well kept, for now. Everyone is splitting off in different directions, some focused on remaining downstairs, others sprinting up the stairs—a colorfully orange room at the top with a stuffed animal by a rocking chair. We run towards the commotion down the well-decorated hall, family portraits. A family of three, a mom, dad, and little girl with short golden hair and an asymmetrical face. She looks to be three, maybe four in the picture.
We pass by two more doors on the way, a closet and small bathroom. The sight of the toilet makes some part of me darken, envious. I've been pissing and shitting by our tent because we've deemed the outhouses far too dangerous for me at night, or at any time really. Do they have a second bathroom upstairs? Perhaps a third connection to the adult's bedroom?
We arrive in the kitchen. It isn't overly large like some of the ones we had bad in school for our lessons, but it's a decent size for a family of three. It has a small, yellow fridge, a stove with only a front and back burner, a sink the size of my head, an oven that looks big enough to only bake muffins in, and two cupboards and three drawers. Their countertop is wedged uncomfortably between their sink and stove. Only enough space to either prepare dinner or plate it, but not both. Leon has the father by the throat and pinned against a wall, with Shushi shouting from upstairs.
A child begins to cry.
Why the fuck is she not at school?
The father isn't wearing a face covering, and honestly, seeing a bare face like this after so many days of only looking at fabric, it kind of feels-
Inappropriate.
Especially since I have only ever seen Antonio or my own bare skin that I have seen since that day, the day where they had tortured, skinned, and murdered that young man.
The father has a square face and bushy beard, dark skin, and well-rested eyes filled with terror. We watch silently by the entryway as he begins to turn purple, his begging turning to raspy gasps. I want to stop this, I should stop this or at least find a covert way to figure out the reasoning for this.
But I can't.
We've been sleeping out in a tent, pissing and shitting on the sandy ground, using toilet paper that peels the skin clean off our asses, eating food directly from the shops with no preparation or flavour, and they're here, in the comfort of a solid structure, a kitchen, a bathroom, separate bedrooms, hell, a fucking living room with board games and a few books.
I don't know what they did for these people to attack them, I don't know who they are or what they're doing for a living but it appears as though they never once thought to share their wealth with others.
Hell, I bet if I were to open that fridge, I'd find meat, eggs, and dairy.
But no.
Just because they're doing better than others financially doesn't mean that they deserve to die.
I need to find a way around this, "Hey," I speak, stepping closer to the two of them. Leon's muscles are flexing beneath his clothing, thick and trained. He could knock me out with one good swing, just reminding me to stay on my feet and remain nimble. "Why are we doing this? What did these people do?"
Leon looks over to us, but judging by his tone and indignant posture, he doesn't plan on letting up. "They looked at Jero the wrong way-" He focuses back on the no longer gasping or struggling man. "And I bet he has something to do with his disappearance."
Jero, the guy I had killed.
So he did matter to them. Enough to do this sort of shit anyway.
I need to join in on the action, I have to for my mission, but if there is a chance I can calm the situation and have this guy spared, could I even pull it off? Antonio would have far more luck than me. He's gotten pretty cool at talking people down.
"What are you guys all standing around for? Is this your first raid?" He shouts, the man now unresponsive, arms limp by his sides and lungs no longer expanding within his chest, body turning pale. "Go fucking raid something! We don't share shit here, first come first serve!"
I immediately target the fridge, a thump radiating to my right, the father's body being thrown to the ground, head bashes against a nearby corner wall. The fridge is overly filled, but still clearly shows that this family is eating better than others; discounted camel meat, salted coyote, hare soup. All either purchased the day before expiration or hunted and prepared themselves. I grab armfuls of it, finding a nearby bag underneath the micro sink and shoveling everything inside it.
When I finally turn, I find Antonio standing and staring at me silently, not judgemental, but more of impressed.
Then, the voice of a mother makes its way to us from the back door, just outside the kitchen. Lion is the first to move, bearing a hatchet that he had kept hidden underneath his shirt.
She's dead within seconds, hardly even had the chance to cry out.
Cry out in pain.
Cry out for her husband.
Cry out for her daughter.
Her daughter.
It seemingly clicks for both Antonio and I at the same time as we sprint upstairs, finding a gathering of about three men encircling the poor child. A forth holding her down, hand over her mouth.
My head aches as I watch them drool over the kid. She's practically still a toddler.
It reminds me of that night, Hibernation forcing me into my bed, door slammed behind him, holding me down, grinding against me as his putrid breath and slimy saliva coats the inside of my mouth. His tightening grips on my wrists. His words, like clouds of grimes as his lips graze mine, itchy stubble scratchy my skin.
Or Mystiko.
No, not Mystiko.
I can't be thinking of him right now.
I push past the men, making them all fall to the group as I grab hold of the pig in front of me, ignoring his bloodcurdling squeals as my claws dig into his skull and I drag him away from her, throwing him to the ground in front of Antonio and on top of one of the three other idiots, they let out a yelp that goes ignored.
Pussies.
Now I stand between the girl and these hogs. Antonio remaining perched by the doorframe clearly indifferent to my actions and prepared to follow along with whatever plans I come up with.
It's not until I look down to those freaks that it dawns on me-
Oh shit.
I fucked up.
There's no way in hell we'll be able to get on the inside and take them down if I've attacked our own allies.
No wonder Antonio is so ready to follow my lead, he has no clue how to fix what I have just done.
There's no way to fix what I have done, so instead, we'll just have to fight our way through from here on out. Can't even risk sleeping with one eye open.
The only question is, are we prepared for it?
I bet he is, myself not so much.
Alright. It's okay. I've made our identities useless and ruined our chance for infiltration. But it's okay, we have plenty of other ways to complete this.
Likely a lioness, I turn on my heel and rush to pick up the child, struggling to balance both the bag and infant on me equally.
It'll be okay.
Everything will be alright.
We just need to get out of here first.
Carrying both the food and the girl, I leap over the fallen collection of men and rush past Antonio, trusting that he'll follow me and assist in our escape. The house ends up looking like a broken door mess by the time we reach the bottom of the steps with some portions of the house starting to smoke as they begin focusing on setting the place on fire. Both Leon and Shushi are by the door, chatting before noticing us barreling down and jumping out the way instantly.
The delight of the fresh air and broiling sun is fleeting up until the reality of our situation once again settles upon me. We need to run.
We need to get the fuck out of here.