Revenge

The cloying heat of the jungle stuck the shirt to Cedric's back as he slipped silently through the trees. Looking around, he found a tall tree and leapt up to the top, landing at the top. Staring over the treetops, he what he was looking for.

Amidst the luscious green of the trees lay an area of clear-cut farmland, a scar against the forest's beauty. If Cedric had done his research right, this particular farm supplied marijuana one of Wainwright's businesses 'associates.' If he was lucky, he would find out where Wainwright was. If not, then he got the chance to make him bleed, at least financially.

Jumping from tree to tree, Cedric carefully approached the farm, on the lookout for any guards that might be looking up. Once he got to the farm, he slid down to the ground and snuck quietly onto the grounds. Hugging the shadows, he crept towards the main building, carefully watching for any guards that weren't drunk, as so many security tend to be.

Sneaking around to the main building, Cedric jumped a guard form behind, knocking him out cold. Deciding he'd had enough sneaking around for one night, he calmly walked up the steps and opened the door to the main house. Walking into the room, he walked over to a coffee machine at the back, ignoring the surprised sounds form the workers there. Pouring himself a cup, he turned around.

"Anyone know where your boss is? Wainwright's got a message for him," he asked nonchalantly.

Dumbfounded, one of the guards pointed vaguely down the hall to the left.

"Thanks," Cedric said as he walked off, "Oh and by the way, you might want to get out of here. Fast. This is going to get very messy."

Going down the hall, Cedric knocked at the door at the end of the hall. Standing there, waiting for the boss inside to answer, he wondered why heads of illegal operations always put their room to the back. It was very unoriginal. Finally, a mean-looking weasel poked his head around the corner of the door.

"Wha'da you want punk?" he slurred. Apparently, Cedric had disrupted his drinking.

"Just delivering a message from Wainwright," Cedric said, as if he had all the time in the world.For a weasel, the guy sobered up really fast.

"Wainwright? Then you're one of his. . . . Come in, come in," he said, suddenly switching to a much more polite tone, "So what does good ol' Wainwright want to tell me?"

"Actually, Wainwright didn't send me."

"Then who are you?" he asked, confused.

"I am an independent contractor who wishes to know the location of our mutual friend," I said, speaking perfect bureaucrat.

"Wha?" he asked dumbly.

Cedric sighed, resigned to the fact that few people understood the subtleties of negotiation. "Put simply," he explained, "I'm one of the Headhunters and I want to know where Wainwright is, or I will be very. . . disappointed."

"Oh yeah?" he said. He was either very brave, or very drunk, "I'm afraid, you're going to be very disappoint..." he was cut off as Cedric grabbed his shirt collar and lifted him off the ground.

"Let me put it more plainly. Wainwright killed a friend of mine and I am going to make him pay. Now, either you tell me where he is, or I start taking my frustration out on you."

"I...I don't know where he is," he gasped, "All I know is I send my shipments to a guy in L.A. called Sanchez. He sells the stuff I give to him. He might know where Wainwright is."

"Thanks," said Cedric, " oh and by the way, since you work for Wainwright, I'm going to make sure none of this stuff gets to L.A. Bye-bye."

On the way out, one of the guards tried to stop him, but Cedric just flipped him over his shoulder as he walked past. Once he was outside, the walked to the field where they grew the marijuana.

Didn't their mothers teach them not to smoke? Cedric thought as he blasted the field with his power, setting the whole thing alight in seconds. Well, at least this load won't make it to the US. We're going to have some really unhappy junkies, he thought as he walked away, back into the forest he had come from. Turning around, he doubled the heat of the fire in the field, burning all of the marijuana in seconds. Nice and clean. None of the flames reached the trees either.

Leaving, Cedric wondered if the people here would try to grow another crop. The way he'd burned the crop, the jungle should reclaim the ground in a few days if the don't keep it off. Turning, he walked away, back into the jungle, going to go back to the boat that had brought him here, planning to go find the next guy who might tell him where to find his old nemesis.