. . .
The trio and raptor stood in front of the Hydra headquarters. A few guards were patrolling the top of the building, holding AR-16s or Sharp rifles and ready to gun down any intruders. When they arrived at the main entrance, the guards gave Sergio a nod; though, they were staring suspiciously at the disguised Scout, with Felicia and Pyro in tow. Both the latter's hands were cuffed behind their backs, indicating to the henchmen that they were new kidnappees. Bubo was perched on Scout's shoulder, somehow aware that these men were not friendly.
"Say Sergio," one of the men at the entrance way stepped forward, a semiautomatic pistol in his hand. "Who are these piss scallywags ya got here?"
He leered at Felicia, who was trying not to grimace at being objectified like a piece of meat.
"This is..." he turned to Scout, "Paul Emers. He's a transfer from Gital's other base in Boulder."
Scout waved a hand. "How ya doin'?"
The runner had a different voice - more deeper and gruff to match his imposing physique, but he still couldn't hide his informal inflection.
"These are new prisoners captured by Stan and Jorgis. They dropped them off to us while at Kerosene Diner."
"Ah, wonder if he'll let me take this whore," the guard drawled, reached out to caress Felicia's hair. She shuddered, suppressing the involuntary urge to pull away.
"Hey, hey, no touchy the prisoners now." Scout slapped his hand away. The guard glared venomously at him.
"And who the fuck are you to tell me not to?" he spat out, getting up in the runner's face.
"Alright, chill the fuck out, Eddie." Sergio wedged an arm between them.
"This bastard here has an attitude problem," the guard complained, still staring daggers into Scout. "You're lucky Sergio's with you, otherwise I'd knock you to the ground so hard that even your jaw would break. Top that off with several 0.40 rounds pumped into your gut."
"Don't get worked up over it," another guard said. "I bet you the new guy just wants to tap the bitch first before any of us do." He turned his attention over to Pyro, who was disguised as an Apache teenager. "Maybe I'll have chance to get up in his hole. What do you say, boy? Ever had anything up your ass besides your shit?"
Pyro remained silent, trying to school their face in a neutral expression. Inwardly, they wanted to chop into the guard with their ax.
"Don't bother, he's mute," Sergio explained.
"Well, atleast we won't get any back talk when I have my fun with him." He indicated Bubo with a toss of his chin. "What's with the owl?"
"Oh this? Gital was requesting it for one of his rituals." Small beads of sweat formed on Sergio's face, hoping his coworker would buy it. "Got it from a falconer. He's well-behaved."
Eddie grinned. "Now he's including animals? I suppose he got tired with killing babies and kids."
Felicia couldn't help but gasp, bringing a hand up to her mouth. Scout and Pyro were just as vehemently disgusted.
"Yeah, he needs to change things up a bit, I'm sure." If Sergio was bothered by it, he didn't show it with his casual conversation. "Let us through now; can't keep Myra waiting. She'd need to evaluate Paul here before he starts..." He smiled deviously. "Getting his hands dirty."
A more sinister smile reflected off Eddie's grimy face. "Of course."
Still giving Scout a dirty look, he let them pass.
Yeah! We made it in! The bat slugger was brimming with excited relief. He was going to get Sniper out of here, one way or the other. If he could handle those dangerous, violent thugs that were RED team, he could handle another pack of different ones.
Meanwhile, Felicia was nervous and hoping their disguises could last for a while. She'd never been one to run headlong into dangerous territory like Miss Pauling sometimes did. Then again, the latter seemed to have an affinity for engaging in questionable and life-threatening activities; things that Felicia didn't care much for and rather made her feel guilty.
Still, she imagined her counterpart would know what to do in this precarious situation. Pauling could be clever and resourceful when the situation called for it.
And I had to come out the dumb one... She inwardly sighed. Well, now's not the time for self-pitying...I could do that at home later. Right now, we have to get to Sniper.
Meanwhile, Bubo had reached out to Cyril again. He could sense that his friend was maddeningly close. "Cyril? Can you hear me?"
He was felt a sudden tug in his psyche.
"Bubo?" came the reply.
"Yes, it's me! We're here inside the building!"
There was a moment, before the shocked marksman replied back. "Really? How did you manager to get inside?"
"We befriended one of the bad guys—uh, he's not evil right now. I think...he's...good? Something about that liquid he keeps drinking out of a bottle. It makes him do nice things."
There were a few seconds of silence. Ohhkay, I didn't really...get that.
"It's true though, whatever's happening! Anyhow, Scout disguised himself and Pyro. Then the bad—I mean good guy right now lead us inside!"
Um okay. Can you sense exactly where I'm located?
"Yes. I'll keep guiding the others."
At last, Bubo had finally reached the man who gave him another chance at life. His savior. The one who introduced to him the crazy, complicated world of humans. Despite witnessing Cyril's frightening spirals into mental instability, Bubo knew deep down that his friend was strong - in terms of morality, character, and integrity.
Cyril may not have been the best example of learning from his species (he was a mercenary, after all), but the owl sensed that he could be more. A better version of himself.
It was then Bubo chirped excitedly to let the others know. By now, they were all familiar with his frantic behavior. Pyro glanced up at him.
"He's near, Bubo?" the firebug quietly inquired.
"Yo, we must be headin' in the right direction," Scout remarked.
The owl could only chirp back in response, slightly flapping out his wings. Arriving inside what used to be the lobby area, they walked past several more guards. Sergio greeted them, continuing to lead the trio down a hall. At the other end, he was stopped by two more jailers.
"More prisoners?" one of them inquired, somewhat bored and chewing on his cigarette.
"Plus, a recruit," Sergio added.
"Go on in then." The other man unlocked the iron-clad door and opened it. Soon, Scout and the others were staring down a long corridor lined with fluorescent lights and holding cells. Several other henchmen briskly walked past them to the exit, a pale naked boy slung over one of their shoulders.
Judging by how stiff the child's limbs were, Scout could tell he was dead. There were appalling signs of physical abuse all over his body. Although the runner was used to seeing death on the battlefield, he had never seen the corpse of an innocent child.
It was unnerving, setting off an internal alarm in his head. He suddenly felt queasy, as if his mind was having an adverse reaction to the horrific sight. It was then he knew he wasn't a true sociopath…this bothered him too much.
"Had too much fun with this pecker head?" Sergio asked his coworkers, a playful tone to his voice. The others couldn't tell whether he really meant it or if he was pretending to act like his sober self.
"Yeah, this little fucker finally gave out," one of the killers stated with a shrug. "Oh well, they only last for a couple of weeks. Time to get a new toy."
"We're gonna throw him out in the desert and watch the buzzards pick at him," another one chimed in. "I'm gonna miss fucking him dry, but oh well, there's a few more lined up to take his place."
Felicia was just as horrified as Scout; she averted her eyes, unable to look at the decaying shell of what was once a vibrant, live boy. That was somebody's son, nephew…brother. Now, they were never going to get him back. Pyro was staring blankly at the kid, their fake brown eyes managing to convey a cold anger in them. Even in their frenetic and joyful state of burning the enemy team all the time, they knew this was utterly wrong.
"Come on, we mustn't keep Myra waiting," Sergio spoke up.
Felicia covered her mouth, feeling an overwhelming sense of dread. She wondered how Miss Pauling handled being around corpses all the time, burying or getting rid of them in some grisly manner. Then again, Felicia wasn't a killer. She was...normal; not having been created with psychopathic tendencies.
They continued down the dreary hall, soon turning right into another one with more barred cells.
"Guys, show me which one is your friend," Sergio spoke up.
All the while, Bubo was keeping up a steady and low squawk to indicate they were getting closer to Cyril. As they walked past each room containing prisoners, Scout and the others examined them. Some contained adult citizens from nearby towns or tourists. Others had children. They were startled when the sharp smell of blood and stench filled the air, even though Scout and Pyro were used to it in the war.
In one cell, four people had been shot dead multiple times, blood drenching the concrete floor and part of it flowing into the hall. Again, Felicia was the most disturbed by this and covered her mouth to keep from retching.
As they treaded further down these catacombs, the trio heard soft singing coming from a cell. Felicia recognized the song, having heard it several times passing a nearby church to work. It was 'Amazing Grace.' It tugged at her heartstrings, inducing a sense of poignancy.
Even in this hellhole, people still had faith in their religion and were comforting each other as best as they could. It was then that Felicia vowed that they would rescue everyone here. There was nothing destructive the mercenaries couldn't do or go up against. Except maybe the U.S military.
Making a left turn this time, she, Scout and Pyro suddenly felt...a strange sensation.
"Stop." Scout put a hand out in front of Sergio.
"Your friend is here?" the inebriated man glanced on either side of the holding cells.
"Nah…I have this weird feeling. Almost like it's tuggin' at my mind."
"I feel it too," Felicia chimed in.
"So do I," Pyro added.
Now Sergio was puzzled. "You guys aren't getting sick, are you? Something you ate earlier?"
Scout shook his head, trying to discern what felt like a slight magnet pull. It was surprisingly familiar, yet foreign all the same. Carefully stepping forward and peering into the cell to his right, what he saw took his breath away.
There were two of them. And yet, he wasn't as startled as he should be. He'd been among them before.
"You…"
Both strange creatures stared back at him, their black eyes unreadable.
It's one of them, one telepathically spoke. Like the last few that passed by here.
Felicia and Pyro strolled up beside Scout, just as amazed at what they saw.
"I know you...in my dreams," the firebug spoke up.
Sergio was quite taken aback. "You hombres know these aliens?"
Scout turned back to him. "How do you know they're aliens?"
The older man scratched his head. "That's what the other cronies here keep calling them. They look like deformed people to me."
"They're right," Felicia confirmed, before turning to the two extraterrestrial prisoners. "You must be the Greys, am I right?"
You are correct, one of them replied.
"What? Don't tell me they abducted you and probed up your backside!" Sergio exclaimed.
"Nah, I think they're friends," Scout replied, though he sounded a bit uncertain.
What are you doing working for these fiends? One alien telepathically asked him.
"Hey! I ain't workin' for them," Scout replied back defensively. "I just came to rescue my friend."
"I didn't hear them say anything." Sergio was still flabbergasted.
"They are talking to us through the mind," Felicia explained. "I just heard what the alien told Scout."
"Aye dios mío, now we have space agents among us," the henchman sighed.
Scout turned to him. "Give me your keys. We have to free them."
Still drunk with his good half intact, Sergio didn't hesitate to hand them over to the runner. Unlocking the door, Scout ushered the two Greys out of the cell. They stood over four feet tall, with smooth grey skin that glistened in the hall light.
"I thought you aliens were supposed to be smarter than us," the runner remarked, somewhat disapprovingly. "You couldn't even find a way to escape this place?"
We're at the lower caste in our hierarchy, one of the aliens replied. Our communications equipment was cleverly destroyed by those holding us prisoner here. We're not even part of the research team. Somehow, I get the feeling the humans' benefactor here captured us in hopes we would reveal our secrets to him.
"Do you know where our friend is?" Felicia asked. "His name is Sniper, from a mercenary team called BLU. A tall, lanky Caucasian man, possibly wearing a half-folded hat. A clone, like us."
I think so, one of the aliens replied. I saw one pass by here several hours ago.
"Show us," Scout ordered, momentarily forgetting that Bubo could point them in the right direction.
He was too riled up to think clearly, eager to find his teammate. Bubo was quizzically staring at the aliens; he'd never seen such unusual beings before. They looked too different to be human. He wondered how Scout and the others "knew" these creatures, seemingly comfortable enough to communicate with them.
Leading the way, both aliens guided them to another end of the hall to a grey steel door. Unlike the first one connected to the main lobby, this one was unlocked. Sergio opened it, still getting over the fantastical fact that he was in close proximity to otherworldly lifeforms.
"Wow, I thought I'd never work alongside aliens in freeing some prisoners here," he remarked in awe, while downing another swig of whiskey.
"Neither did we," now of them vocally spoke. Its tone was high-pitched, not unlike someone partially filled with helium.
Bubo started chirping loudly again, bobbing his head excitedly.
"I believe the raptor has located your friend," one of the aliens pointed out.
As if on cue, Bubo flew off of Scout's shoulder and landed in front of one cell. Scout took off faster than the others, dashing over to the area where the little raptor had landed.
"Cyril!"
"Bubo!"
. . .