Operation 002: 'Night Angler' (Part III)
"This is… an incredibly slippery slope."
Surprisingly to Clef, the first one to speak up was Griz- the usually-reserved Russian was now conveying his opinion with more brevity than before. Perhaps the most recent events had served as some sick, twisted form of confidence-boosting for him.
"While I have no qualms with making this one suffer, are you really confident that we will only apprehend the evil ones? That we would be their judge, jury and executioner?"
Clef shook his head adamantly.
"Listen mate, I'm not sayin' that every person we detain is gonna even have to deal with this. But consider this: In a few hours, we're goin' back to that town where that fish from Hell is still fahkin' working its demonic rounds. We will inevitably have to coax that basterd out to capture or kill it, and I have little doubt that it will need some form of live bait for this to happen."
He pointed at Griz.
"Would you volunteer to be the bait that potentially gets torn to shreds by some deep sea lurker?"
Then he pointed across the room, towards the hallway that led to the cells.
"Or, would you rather throw this dumb bloke at him instead? There's no guarantee he'll die, but don't you all think it'd be better if that scum happened to perish than us?"
He sighed, scratching his eyebrow.
"Besides, I was just bein' dramatic with that speech, for fahk's sake…"
There was no good counter to that argument- And it wasn't like any of them wanted to defend the convict's life. And yet, as the night went on, even as they got back into the truck (along with the convict) and headed back towards the town for continued surveillance, they would argue for hours on end about the morality of this decision; They spent their time in the truck heavily debating this kind of decision, as well as all of the adverse outcomes that could stem from it.
All the while, Clef was almost in shock of their transformations; It only took one traumatic event to bring them all that much closer together. Those who had found social barriers between each other were now conversing intensely and passionately.
This was fucked up.
Of course, the convict's ears, eyes and mouth were plugged so as to prevent him from figuring out their location (or calling out for help); And to his mild fortune, he was blissfully spared from the philosophical debate they were having about his impending demise.
By the time they reached the tranquil town, the sun was peeking over the mountains, as dawn flooded warmth upon the fertile, green land. A few citizens were out taking care of early bird work, none of them conceiving the possibility that the passing supply truck was hosting several armed individuals and a very unfortunate captive.
(Queue 'Surveillance' by Avery Alexander)
The crew spent most of the day inside, waiting for the moment that the sun dipped over the mountains and heralded the darkness of night once more. The captive was absolutely miserable, having been beaten throughout the day as various members of the team snuck into his room and vented their trauma and frustrations onto him.
As 12:00 PM came around, Clef began giving orders to the others, having more surveillance and additional equipment set up at the edge of the lake, as he himself used doctored 'lake inspector' documentation to convince the local deputy that they needed to cordon off a section of the lakeside to run their tests; Clearing out the civilians took one less stressful concern off his mind.
The night grew more pitch-black as the members of the MTF team were now all outside of the house, working tirelessly to complete their individual tasks. Vale re-tuned the frequency of the deep-sea microphones; Haiman inspected and cleaned the weaponry and ballistics; Polly was (begrudgingly) patching up the convict and preparing him for the experiment; Griz kept guard over the cordoned area to ensure no one would try and sneak a glance at the whole grim affair.
"Just to give a refresher to you gits." Clef said at conversation-level loudness; Wanting his voice to reach those few around him, but not loud enough to draw the attention of others. "The last few days of testing have revealed a few things 'bout this deviant: Firstly, the microphones didn't pick up any underwater acoustics initially, then… get this…. The fucker starts makin' clicking noises. So, it's usin' echolocation, and we figured it's speakin' with that thin black serpent that drifts on the wa'er-
This is the worst debriefing he's ever given, Polly thought, without a doubt. Her thoughts were mirrored by the rest of the team.
From a distance, Dack was set up on a hill overseeing the entirety of the lake, with a favorable view of the hidden shoreline the rest of the team was operating on. He set up the tripod support for his rifle, adjusting the lens and ensuring everything was in working order.
By this point, he was embodying what he had most desired out of this job from the start: The ability to put his skills to use. The prestige of working as a cover operative. The mystery and excitement of the encounters he was promised.
Yet, after the repetition of finding nothing of interest in each site they went to prior to this, he'd lost his resolve, believing himself to have been conned by some bored rich guy looking to simulate military roleplay for his own amusement.
And yet, as Dack remembered the sight of that pool of blood; As he recalled the vivid, intense expression of shock and horror on Polly's face, he remembered why he was here now, abetting the hostage taking of a rapist and murderer, and sighting in his scope on the possibility of having to kill a predatory alien fish.
...A predatory alien fish. He couldn't help but laugh aloud at the very idea. This was reality, right? He couldn't imagine going back to normal life, visiting coffee shops and shopping for grocery and luxuries, while thinking about the fact that there was a predatory species of fish that were confirmed, BEFORE HIS VERY EYES, to lure unsuspecting people into a lake to be devoured.
There was an irony to it, too; Humanity had been at the top of the food chain since ancient civilization, and not once have they been challenged by any serious degree; There was practically no animal species that desired human flesh, because they knew the cost that came with it; Unrelenting brutality, massacres, extinction.
And yet here it was, a predator that dared to prey on the most dangerous species in the world; And it was succeeding at its job.
No matter how much one hears about these kinds of horrors in the movies, none of it will ever measure up to the gripping, living terror that comes with actually having to live with such knowledge; Knowing you can no longer live a life of leisure, that anywhere you go, there is a chance you could happen upon some long-buried monsters, and suffer a fate worse than death…
Clack!
He chambered a round into his rifle, rage writhing on his face.
He would put an end to this menace, and every last one of its species if need be. Humanity would remain at the top of the food chain.
One dead monster at a time.
As soon as the convict's blindfold came off, he knew it was his time to die.
The view was beautiful- of that he could not complain. His eyes were weary and blinded by the sudden change of dark to lightness; He'd spent hours, possibly days with that blindfold on. When his senses fully came to, he was dazzled by the beautiful night sky; The stars twinkled brightly overhead, numbering in the thousands. The chitter of nightlife, the soft-blowing breeze, the crystal clear reflection of the lake…
Of course he would appreciate the beauty of life, right before it was snatched from him so viciously. This was to be his fate, for his monstrous, irredeemable actions. No one would care to hear his story. Perhaps if he had only murdered the husband, he could have found the merciful ear of one of these vigilantes. But the moment he laid his hands on the wife…
This was it. This was to be his end to the world. A team of random justice-bringers putting down a mad dog. And after all the hard work he'd put into his life, his family, his daughter… if he had just not responded to that bastard the way he did…
What mistakes he made… What irredeemable choices…
Click.
The convict felt his blood run cold as he heard the menacing click of a gun's hammer cocking, the chilly barrel placed against the back of his head. He didn't dare think to turn around.
"I hope you aren't feelin' bad for yourself. That'd be too infuriating for me to forgive."
The convict chose not to answer- He had already accepted death the moment they first put that blindfold over him. The next few moments were still gut-wrenching as he was in agony over whether the gunman was going to shoot him or not.
He nearly broke down into a sobbing mess as he heard the hammer uncock, a few curse words hurled at him from the gunman before they walked away. A few moments later, he could hear another one of them walk forward, this time with a Cockney accent accompanying his words.
"Roight, let's get on with this, then. Start walkin' towards the edge of the pond."
The convict's adrenaline came forth once more as he saw the moment of death coming. In his desperation, he tried for a pathetic plea.
"P-Please," He said as humbly as he could. "I don't want to d-"
"Die?"
The gunman cut him off, placing the barrel of his handgun against the convict's head. With that, he knew there was no other choice. Perhaps if he could push the gunman away and make a break for the woods-
"H…Huh?"
At that moment, as he was approaching the shoreline, he noticed something breaking the reflection of the water; A small, yet noticeable slithering motion, as if there were an unusually large water snake gliding over the lake.
(Music: "Aftermath", by Caravan Palace)
As the seconds passed, the convict seemed to feel himself slip into a lull; His senses dulled, his worries and anxieties disappeared entirely, and… for once in a very long time…
He felt euphoric.
What an amazing feeling that encapsulated him. It was like he was shedding himself of the mortal weights that chained him to life. The heaviness of his body, the weight of his actions, the gravity of the situation…
Everything heavy… became light. Like a feather. And he loved it. Seeing the serpent raise its incredibly-small head, seeing its adorable beady eyes, he felt more assurance in those eyes than anything else he'd ever encountered in his life.
He followed those eyes that continually filled him with that euphoric, light feeling, that shed him from all doubt and anxiety…
Though there was coldness as the water slowly rose over his body, there was a larger warmth that emanated throughout him, just from staring into the beautiful, ephemeral eyes of that cute little water snake…
An all-encompassing warmth…