The truck ripped down the street. Light posts flew past, tires rolling on gravel and asphalt. Devin looked out from the barred windows, observing the scenery moving past the cage on wheels. He looked back at the occupants of the truck. His sister was planted beside him, apparently dozing off. There was a woman with dirty blonde medium length hair, her sight was aimed at her feet. She was thinking. Thinking about the man who ratted her out. Her mind flooded with millions of ways that she was going to murder him. One idea involved a camping hatchet. The wedge would find it's way into his sternum, tearing flesh, severing veins, splintering bone. She would rip it out, and blood would flood like a grotesque fountain, splashing onto the ground, staining the street with the crimson liquid. Then she would tower over his dying body, lift the ax, and slam it into his cranium. He would be no more than just a stupid fucking rat, dead on the concrete. His family would try to find her, sure, but she would deal with them to. It would be a classic case of guilt by association. Another involved leading him to the top of a skyscraper, and then ramming him off the edge of the building. He would barrel down towards the earth. He would hit the ground, and become a human puree, a mangled mess of bone and flesh, a festering carcass, a popped meat sack. Whatever you would call it, it didn't matter. Whatever way he was gonna meet his end, didn't matter either. Blood was going to be shed, and he was gonna die, one way or another. She was interrupted from her plans of evisceration by a raspy masculine voice, speaking to her.
"So, w-wuh-what's your name Blondie?" Devin Whitecastle inquired, staring at her with green eyes. He fidgeted with his shackles, shaking them around. "You s-seemed lost in thought...".
"Mila... Mila Brooks." Mila Brooks spoke, diverting her gaze at the scars on Devin's face. She grimaced at the sight of them. They were a eccentric tango of light peach, light pink, and tan sand, and looked like how old, ragged leather felt. "What's with the scars?" She asked in a worrisome manner. Devin let out a muffled bout of laughter, cupping his hand over his mouth.
"Uh-uh-um, that's a fuh-funny story... well, one day I-I-I was torching m-m-my house, be-be-because... uh-um, burning puh-people-th-THINGS felt AMAZING! Buh-but the r-ruh-reason I was doing this was because m-my-my f-fuckhead of a father duh-decided to beat me... oh-over and over... a-ah-and the f-fu-fucker tried to h-hurt my sister," He gestured to his sibling, Lilith, sleeping on the seat beside him. "And I d-d-didn't FUCKING LIKE THAT! So, I burnt the h-house down... and f-father... he's dead now..." He snickered. "B-b-but when I burnt the h-house down, I forgot Lilith inside. So, I went in to g-get her. But, when I went got out w-w-with her, this happened." He pointed to his facial scars, and rubbed his messy brown hair.
"Did you go to a hospital for it?" Mila said, intrigued by his story. He hung his head back, and let out a dry answer.
"I-I-I had just cuh-committed second-degree a-arson... I couldn't go to a hospital." He croaked. "So Lily helped me c-clean it, bandage it, tape it up. It w-was a fucking m-miracle that it didn't g-get infected. I'm Devin, by the w-way..." He extended his arm.
"Nice to meet you, Devin." Mila shook his hand, and was almost thrown out of her seat as the car lurched. Tires screeched, followed by the sound of a padlock being opened and a gate creaking.
"Hey Lily, w-wake up..." Devin shook his sister awake. Her eyes groggily opened, revealing green eyes identical to her brother's. "We're here."
"So, there are some new recruits, eh?" Seamus Cowden inquired, resting on the leather sofa, legs propped up on the coffee table. He turned his head to Mark Chandar, waiting for an answer. He said nothing. His gaze was fixed on the information files, his face shifted into an inquiring stare. Seamus cocked an eyebrow and went back to staring at the wall. The R&R room was decent enough, holding a television on a wall, a water cooler near the corner, and some books, magazines, a Rubik's cube, and some other assortments on the coffee table. A small, but efficient ceiling fan span overhead, providing a counter-measure for when the room got stuffy. The entrance to the room was a central hallway in which every room on the first floor was attached to. Seamus looked back at Mark again, still waiting for a response.
"Yeah... four of 'em." He finally replied, turning to face Seamus. "Devin and Lilith Whitecastle, code named Arson and Blowtorch, respectively. Then, there's Markus 'Ace' Nowak, and Mila 'Slugs' Brooks." Mark leaned forward, handing the folder to his teammate. He snatched it from him, reading it over. His finger trailer along the words till he hit the end of the text. He put it on the table, resting back into the couch. He put his arms behind his head, his hands cupping the back of his noggin. The duo turned to the linear corridor before them, hearing the clicking of boots, and the opening of the large steel doors. People in uniform rushed down the hallway, carrying boxes of equipment, clothing, toiletries, and other objects of the sort. All of this was standard protocol for new agents.
'Looks like they're here.' Mark thought to himself, all to familiar with the hustle-and-bustle routine. Getting up, he grabbed a paper cup from the water cooler, putting it under the tap. Still looking at the hall, he filled the cup, miraculously not spilling. He turned around to see James Porter standing in the corridor.
"New blood, huh?" James waltzed into the rec room, attempting to converse with the other S.A.S operators. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. The crowd of people cleared out of the hallway, revealing two men and two women, lined up single file. One had messy brown hair, green eyes, and fair skin. What stood out about him was the horrific scars on the left side of his face. They went over and under his left eye, down his cheek, over his jawline, and on his neck. He had a look of hate and boredom in his expression, bags under his eyes indicated he wasn't one for sleep. The woman behind him looked about the same age. She also had brown hair, green eyes, and white skin. But she didn't look bored. She was nervous, panicked, fidgety even. The next person was a man with short blond-gray hair, some stubble, and stone blue eyes. Behind his calm, cynical demeanor, gleamed a kindred spirit. Behind him was a woman with medium length dirty blond hair, light tan skin, and raw umber eyes. She looked around, observing, taking in the infrastructure. The man with the scars was the only one put in shackles, which were firmly locked around his wrists and ankles, the chains clanked and clacked, hitting together, dragging on the floor, being jiggled together. He dragged his feet begrudgingly. The rubber soles of his converse hi-tops scraped against the linoleum flooring
"Hey o-officer, we should get dinner suh-sometime," Devin said to a female law enforcer. "I'll b-buy you a h-huge bowl of go f-fuck yourself!" He snickered out, the officer narrowing her eyes in annoyance. He looked around, eyeing the three-forths of the S.A.S team. Lilith whispered something to him, he looked back at her, and diverted his sight to his feet. He remained silent for the rest of the walk, or at least what Mark, James and Seamus could see.
Devin, Lilith, Mila, and Markus were marched up a staircase to what would be their living quarters. Lilith observed the room. On one side of the room, there was two bunk beds with sheets neatly put onto them. On the other side, there was a closet, a table, a few chairs, a paper changing screen, and a some storage crates.
"This is where we'll be sleeping?" Lilith questioned, perplexed on why four people would be put in a room so small. They wouldn't be able to function well, much less be comfortable. She sighed and shambled in.
"You're l-lucky they aren't c-cutting your tits off for w-what we did," Devin said dryly. "W-wuh-which bunk do ya want?" He walked in behind her.
"I'll take bottom, less chance of me hurting myself if I fall." Lilith answered, climbing into the bed, pulling the covers over her body. "I'm going back to my nap..." She said, rustling around in the sheets, trying to find a more comfortable position. Devin climbed onto the top bunk, his head almost touching the ceiling while he laid in the bed. He giggled to himself.
"There's b-barely enough r-room for me to juh-jack off up here!" Devin stifled an eruption of laughter, reducing it to what sounded like continuous squeaks of small mice. Mila shot him a weird look, while Markus shot him a dirty one. Lilith, however, chuckled at her brothers obscene statement. His honesty was usually more of a source of comedic value than annoyance, and he was honest almost all the time, much to every bystanders chagrin.
"Why would we need to know that?" Mila climbed into her bunk, resting her head on the surprisingly soft pillow. Devin simply shrugged, still laughing slightly. The four criminals turned to the sound of boots clicking near the doorway. It was the same officer Devin had insulted before.
"Come with me." She said.