I think I get the honor of calling this one of the first Far Cry 4 pieces on this archive. Short, I'll admit. There's another work-in-progress on my Nook, but unfortunately with all the new info that comes out I have to keep changing the details.
The burlap sack was irritating his nose, bad.
It was the only thing he'd let himself focus on as the helicopter began to lift off and the dull orange glow eaking through the fabric fell away to green. He was urged to itch it, especially as the helicopter jolted and the burlap continued to scratch his face, but his hands were tied and the man in the pink suit was sitting across from him, no doubt staring. Regardless of the fact he was apparently some sort of VIP, Ajay didn't doubt pink suit given a good reason would happily give him a concussion, or a knee to the stomach.
He wanted to think about the dead man below them, or the burning bus full of men he had maybe four minutes ago seen tense, scared, but alive, or the monkey, or the mountains, or the fact some crazy ass warlord with a white buzz cut had taken a goddamn selfie with him after commenting on his eyes. He wanted to lose it because he was suddenly in a helicopter with a sack over his head being taken somewhere by a total stranger who knew him, apparently , and knew him well enough that Ajay had the honor of a cleared calendar and a party.
But, much like how he was when he was got blood on his jacket due to pink suit's hug and then handed a pen covered in fresher blood to stare blankly at a camera, Ajay stayed numb and silent and kept his mind on his itchy nose and not on the silent Dharpan next to him or the armed men beyond him or the locked door to his side. His arms hurt, too, and his head was getting hot, now that he was thinking about it. He shifted a bit, but the bindings held tight.
"I'm so sorry about all this, my boy," the man said, slightly raising his voice over the copter, and Ajay kept his head down. It wouldn't have mattered if he wanted to see anything. The fabric was tight and only a little light came through, so everything was too blurred to discern clearly. "I know the sack and the wrists and all that aren't terribly comfortable, but it's all for safety, you must know. Not enough of it in this country if you ask me. As soon as we touch down they'll be off, but for now, I'm afraid you'll have to live through it."
Ajay had a hard time telling if pink suit was sincere or not. Then again, he was insane, so it probably didn't matter. He turned his head slightly and tried to see Dharpan, get some sort of reassurance from his fixer, but all he got was shadows and blocked light. A sudden thirst hit him and he wished for water.
"Do you know how I recognized you?" the man suddenly asked.
Ajay froze.
"Your eyes," he admitted. "You have your mother's eyes."
His head jerked up, but Ajay couldn't say a word. A thought crossed his mind and then stayed there and his heart froze: I'm the wrong guy. He thinks I'm someone else.
"Oh, yes. I'd never forget her's."
He's going to ask me something and I'm going to answer wrong and he'll throw me out of the copter.
"Dark and smooth like polished amber," he continued, and his voice changed into something almost wistful. Ajay was motionless. "How could I forget them? And when I saw them staring back at me down there..." He chuckled. "Oh yes. She gave them to you, Ishwari did."
Holy shit.
A hand gripped his shoulder firmly. "And I wouldn't dare harm a hair on the man who owns them."