Bzzzz bzzzz-
The aggravating yet slightly muffled sound of a phone vibrating violently through the dead of the night, ripped me from my deep slumber. Groggily, I pressed my tired eyes further shut, wishing the noise to fade away. Upset at the fact that it didn't stop, I turned towards the Sergeant.
"Please…" I muttered quietly. "Shut it down or I'm gonna throw my pillow at you…" I rambled into the blanket that was pushed against my jaw, suppressing my voice further than it already was.
Abruptly, I sat upright, the warm cover sliding from my heated body. Grabbing the cushion vigorously, I was ready to chuck it at Soap, when I my eyes fell upon my phone shining brightly in the dark room.
Arm risen over my head, frozen mid throw, I felt cold sweat break out over the entirety of my body.
There on the screen was a name displayed in big white letters.
Gazzy.
I took in a shaky breath.
Gaz never calls. Never ever.
Hesitant, I stared at the phone for a few long seconds before I managed to shake myself out of the trance. Reaching for the device, I shuddered as the ice-cold exterior hit my warm and sweaty hand. Sliding with one finger over the display, I held the cell phone to my ear, while I fumbled to get out of bed.
"What happened?" I whispered into the air, holding my breath in anticipation, awaiting an answer.
Seconds passed, yet nothing reached me.
"Gaz?" I called out again, this time slightly louder while my limbs began untangling themselves from the grasp the sheets had on me. Softly placing my feet onto the messy floor, I hauled myself off the bed, making sure to not wake my sleeping companions. I was halfway across the room when Gaz's voice brought me to a complete still stand.
"They have Laswell."
In the silence that followed, I could have heard a pin clatter to the ground, instead I heard the familiar noise of shuffling and moving. Turning my head, I caught Soaps silhouette pulling the blanket off himself, while Ghost was already on his feet and reaching for the light switch. I managed to lift my arm just in time to shield my eyes from the glaring light.
"Hold on. Back up. What do you mean they have Laswell?" I queried him to disclose further, putting him on speaker to allow my allies to listen in on it.
"The mission went south. Laswell is in AQ's hands." His voice filled the room, while the Sergeant cursed quietly in the background.
"Details. What went down? What did you see?" I pressed on, brushing off my own distress. I didn't have the time to panic.
"We infiltrated a cartel outpost, while Laswell was observing the coast from afar-" I sauntered back to my bed, simultaneously minimizing the distance between my partners and I. "Found drugs, firearms, raw materials. Russian cases and crates, empty- no missiles anywhere. A schematic indicated there are tunnels under the lighthouse, we followed. Was a dead end with a submarine, not big enough for a missile. Prolly used for transporting whatever they were smuggling. While we were down there, Laswell was ambushed by several AQ-boats. They took her. Alive." He explained in a few precisely picked words.
"AQ? Are you certain it's AQ?"
"Yeah."
"Hmm…" I furrowed my brows and held a hand to my chin, deep in thought.
"What is it? Sinj?" Gaz asked.
"AQ doesn't have the proper training like we do. The only military force they have, or rather, the one that aided them, was the Mexican Army. Were you able to distinguish the men that took Kate? What gear did they have? High grade?"
"No. Civilian clothing. Basic weapons." Gaz recollected what he had seen.
"Gear doesn't equal experience." Ghost intercepted.
"I know it doesn't. But it's worth a shot."
"What are you on about? You don't ask such questions without an ulterior motive, Sinj. Which thought are you following so eagerly?"
I small smile graced slithered its way onto my face. He knows me well…
"Soap, can you hold my phone for a second?" I asked the man closest to me.
"Aye, o' course." He chirped and I pressed the phone into his warm hands.
Turning away, I pulled my backpack from underneath my bed. Hauling it onto my lap, I combed through the numerous compartments until my fingers grasped a smooth surface. "Gotcha!"
"What are ye up tae?" The Sergeant questioned me in confusion.
I turned my head towards him. "Following a thought." I answered self-explanatory. "Kye?"
"Shoot, what's your question."
"Before you split up, have you noticed a small, black communication device on Kate? Approximately… Let me guess here- three by three centimetres? Could have also been slightly smaller."
"The same one you wear?"
"That's the one, yeah."
"I don't think so- Captain, have you seen in?"
"No." Price's gruff voice sounded even rougher through the cheap speakers. "Heads up. We've just got video evidence. Gaz, get it into Ascii's hands."
My heart leaped out of my chest.
"On it, sir."
A few seconds passed and I heard the familiar ping, announcing a new message reached the tablet I was clutching onto. Dubiously, I opened it while both men shuffled closer to me. The Sergeant sat beside me, while the Lieutenant stood at my legs, hovering over me. Holding my breath in anticipation and fear, my eyes fell upon a bruised and dirtied Kate.
She was still alive.
Avoiding eye contact, making herself seem smaller than she already was, while pressing herself against the inner side of a vehicle's door, yet alive. That was what mattered most. Next to her sat a person, masked, holding a gun to her temple and in the background, I could distinguish a blur of beige and browns passing by. Mayhap rubble, dried flora and sand. Lots of sand.
But what caught my attention, was Kate herself.
Rewinding the video several times, I couldn't spot it.
"Good." I whispered and began typing away. "That's fantastic. You've hidden it bloody well Kate, even I can't see it. How did you do that?"
"Lass, what if they found it?" Soap asked.
"They haven't." I answered.
"How'd ya know that?" He insisted.
I bit down on my tongue. I had no justified reason to uphold my belief.
"What if she lost it?" Ghost intercepted.
"She was on water- on a boat when she was ambushed, correct?" I asked loudly.
"Yes." Gaz answered.
"Which means she probably saw them coming." I thought aloud.
"She did. Warned us even." He confirmed.
"Hmm. If she thought it would be found, at any point, she would have pinged me beforehand- I checked mine, there was no message. She must have been quick enough to hide it either on her persona or somewhere else. I can't say for sure yet though…"
"Isn't that the wee thing ya two use?" Soap asked. "How can it help us? It's just for bletherin', ain't it?"
"It's far more than just that." I elaborated.
"What would've changed if she'd pinged ya?" The Lieutenant inquired.
"I could have found her quicker. Checked footage all over the place. Rang people who could help us. Or just simply ping her and follow her movements…" I saw the realization dawn on him.
"This device is a bleedin' tracker. So long as she's got it on her, you can track 'er down anywhere." Ghost mumbled; voice rough from the sleep clinging to it.
I gave a thumbs up.
"Steamin' jesus. What else can this ol' thing do?" Soap asked flabbergasted.
"That's basically it." I answered truthfully. "Anything more and the thing wouldn't be as stealthy and small as it is."
"That's dead impressive." The Sergeant muttered.
"Found you." I simultaneously called over him.
"Captain. Gaz. She's on the move, fast. Urzikstan… moving east to-"
"Al Mazrah. Ascii stand by." The Captain called out and I complied.
"They get her underground there; we'll lose her for good." I heard Gaz ramble on despite the loud background noises. Apparently, they were moving.
"We'll lead the rescue team." Price reassured him, yet in the spur of a moment, the shuffling and shifting stopped. The call went fleetingly quiet.
"Say again, General?" We heard Gaz call out, causing all three of us to look at each other.
"Since when?" Gaz pressed on and I furrowed my brows trying to wrap my head around what was going on.
"These things take violence and timing; I can do both. Kate's life is in a fuckin' hourglass." Price declared angrily.
"Are you telling me, we leave her?" He asked after a moment of silence. Shepherd must have interfered with the plan. The old geezer.
"I'll have her back in twelve hours." Price announced boldly and I launched into motion. If the General was against a rescue mission, Price and Gaz would be on their own. They will need all the help they'll get, and I knew exactly who to ask for it.
"General, I thought Kate was your friend?" Gaz stated, shocking me with his boldness.
How I wished to hear what the old bastard had to say.
"We'd be going head-to-head with AQ on their home turf. They're going to have hundreds more protecting Laswell. We need an army." Gaz thought aloud.
"And I got you one." I declared over the increasingly louder getting background noises. "Let me know if you need anything else, Captain."
"Well done. We'll stay in contact-" Price's praise went straight over my head, while I was already thinking further ahead.
"Stay safe out there you two. Kye? No falling out of a helo." I remarked dryly with the slightest bit of concern swimming in my grey eyes.
He chuckled heartily. "Can't promise that. Thank you for the help, you're as quick as ever. I'll keep you updated."
With that, the call ended, and Soap proceeded to place the phone onto my lap.
"They'll be awright." He tried to reassure me, squeezing my shoulder while he got up.
"I know. I'm not concerned about that." I stated while I watched the small dot, Kate, move steadily over the screen.
1st of November 2022, Las Almas, Mexico
The cold metal of the parapet scraped against my sweaty fingers, as I slid them absentmindedly over its surface, while overlooking the massive mansion far ahead of us. Unable to distinguish anything, I put the binoculars up to my eyes and looked through them. Zeroing in on the extensive structure, I could discern the wind blow softly through the leaves of the palm trees, the last few birds flying high above the roof and a fox running through a nearby patch of grass.
Concentrating back on our target of interest, I observed the many round arches dividing the creamy coloured walls, the numerous lights illuminating not only the deep blue infinity pool, but also the hallways connecting the two structures into one. The whole set up reminded me of a Mediterranean villa, even if only faintly. If I didn't know any better, I would describe the mansion as a jewel amidst the surrounding rocky hills. It was a shame such beauty was a cartels nest.
"La casa de Sin Nombre?" ("The house of the nameless?") Soap asked, looking through a rangefinder targeting the same building I was dedicating my whole attention to.
"No. Uno de sus lugartenientes." (No. One of his Substitutes.") Alejandro answered, causing me to break my relentless gaze to look at him over my shoulder. I observed him walking up beside me, eyes focused straight ahead with a hint of determination.
"A cartel Lieutenant." The Sergeant voiced, elaborating which I had not understood before. I had to hand it to him, Soap was quick to catch onto words and phrases, I on the other hand, wasn't.
"Órale güey. Estás aprendiendo." („Nice brother. You're learning.") Alejandro threw several words to said man.
"My sources tell me all the VIPs in Las Almas will be there tonight." The Colonel continued where he left off, while Soap gave the binoculars to Graves, who swiftly made his own impression of the manor. "Some are invited, others are, umm…" Alejandro trailed off.
"Volun-told…?" Graves finished what the Vaqueros had started.
"Yes."
"What's the meet about?" He urged on, trying to get as much information out of the cowboy as he could manage.
"De nosotros." ("Us.") Alejandro answered, tearing his eyes from the eerie estate to look at me and then Graves. "Las Almas is burning, and they want to know who lit the fire."
"Sin Nombre will be there, yeah?" Ghost pitched in.
Alejandro pushed himself off the low wall with a sigh. "No guarantees, but this is our best shot."
"Then we take it." Graves announced. "I got enough Shadows here to take over the whole damn country." He pointed out with a snobbish expression and a low chuckle.
I stared at him, unimpressed and slightly irritated by his cockiness. He didn't notice.
"I'd prefer if you didn't." Alejandro calmly disclosed.
"I'm just sayin'… one house, shouldn't be a problem." He added with another self-satisfying expression etched onto his face.
To some degree, he was right. One building wasn't a problem for us. We had infiltrated bigger dwellings before. But for those, we were well prepared and briefed in with proper floor plans, rough number of assailants and their firepower, possible entry and exit routes, perchance even an estimate number of civilians residing in these structures.
But with this one, we were completely in the blind.
"We need Sin Nombre alive." The Lieutenant grunted, which seemed to swipe the Commander from his high horse.
"Well…" Graves looked over to the estate, deep in thought. "Then we need to meet him." He focused back on the team.
"How?" Soap asked.
"Give 'em what they want… Intel." A short, fletched silence stretched between us all. "They wanna know who's here. Let's tell 'em."
"In person-?" Alejandro asked.
"Correcto… Get one of us inside, find the boss…-" He clasped his hands together, "-and roll him up."
Silence again.
Yet before anyone else could volunteer, I spoke up.
"I'll do it."
Suddenly, all eyes were on me, and my heart did a shaky jump.
"You go in there, and they'll kill you, hermana." Alejandro disclosed, concerned for my wellbeing.
"That's a suicide mission we're talkin' about. I'll go." Soap stepped forward.
"With all due respect, Sergeant." I held my ground and stared him down. "They might already know who you are. If anyone remembers any of your features, you're busted from the get-go, and you wouldn't even know it." He pressed his lips into a thin line, eyebrows furrowing while he processed what I had just said.
"Sweet cheeks, if they know one of us, they know all of us." Graves glanced at me.
I flexed my jaw in mild displeasure. "What I'm trying to say is, that no one can distinguish who I am, if I walk in there without my disguise. Who's gonna be able to verify that a woman of average height, is one of the soldiers that they hunted in the mountains?" I fired back, holding eye contact with the Commander.
"So, you want to ditch your gear? Just like that? You didn't do it for anything before." Graves continued to press on.
"Before, there weren't millions of lives on the stake. This is our best shot, and I am not throwing that away because of my own selfishness."
Graves eyed the Lieutenant who stood slightly behind me, yet no further comment came from either of them.
"Out of all of us, I am the most unthreatening. Soap might be compromised, Alejandro is definitely a very well-known face around here, Graves you're needed in the skies above and-" Turning my head to look at the quiet Ghost, "-if a brick wall of a man suddenly emerged onto the streets and walked right up the gate, you best know they'd either shoot him on sight or be on high alert at all times. No offense." I crossed my arms over my chest. "I'll offer intel for a meeting with Sin Nombre. And if he's there, we catch him."
"Órale, tienes agallas, chica." (Hell yeah- You've got guts, girl.") Alejandro held my gaze. "You make it in, you'll need eyes and ears. I'll go too."
"I'll take overwatch." Ghost muttered, puzzling me. I was certain he would disagree; certain it would turn into a similar situation to what I was a part of just a few days ago. Yet at the same time, I wasn't breaking any rules that would warrant any possible anger towards me. I wasn't uncompliant or questioning authority; I was only volunteering.
"Shadows circles the target in a helo." He instructed Graves.
"They are going to want proof…" The Commander turned back to me, ripped his Shadow Company patch off his vest and handed it to me. "Show 'em this."
I plucked the small piece of fabric out of his hands and slipped it in my back pocket.
"Call me when you need me." He squeezed my shoulder and walked away. "Alright, let's gear up and get after it."
Night has fallen over the quiet hills, when I walked up the dusty road that led directly to the Mediterranean inclined mansion. With every step I took, my once calm heart began to slowly accelerate. Beating forcefully in my tightening chest. Steadily coming closer to the well-lit building, the classic road smoothly transitioned into a luxurious stone entry way, littered with various high-end cars I couldn't even begin to fathom the prices of.
Keeping my eyes from straying too far, I kept them looking straight ahead. Taking in the massive gate that rose from the ground like an entrance to a purgatory, I caught sight of two cartel members, adorn in identical deep black suits, faces hidden by dark balaclavas and hands occupied with machine pistols.
Ripping my gaze from them, I followed the short wall segment, let my eyes bounce onto the building's façade, allowing them to fly high up and above the guards' heads, until they found the rooftop. There, I could distinguish another cartel member walking his rounds, with the difference that he wore proper military gear instead of a gentlemen's attire.
Taking my provisionally last deep breath, I braced for the impending impact my turn up will have. Just in time, as the two men stationed at the gate spotted me immediately. Weapons drawn; I felt my heart drop as the barrels of their guns rose up, pointing directly at me. Holding my hands up in surrender, hoping it was an obvious indication that I meant no harm, I stopped in my tracks when a bullet hit the ground right in front of my boot.
I sucked in a breath.
"I've got valuable information for El Sin Nombre." I called out, yet their approach didn't falter, rather they began yelling at me, remarks in a language I did not understand. Overwhelmed, I fumbled to come up with bits and pieces they could potentially understand. "Información… para El Sin Nombre!" I called out, clinging to my dwindling sanity and growing fear.
I was forced to the ground with a swift kick to the back of my knee. Staring at the ground, I didn't dare look them in the eyes, afraid I would aggravate them further. Keeping my head low, I watched them blurrily through my peripheral vision as their guns were shoved relentlessly into my face. "Information only for El Sin Nombre." I repeated, voice calm, despite the turmoil in me and the life-threatening chaos around me.
Observing one of them lower their weapon to their hip, I felt hope flicker to life.
"Tenemos a alguien aquí que dice que tener information importante... Sí. Solo una mujer. Ella dice que es solo para oídos sin nombre." ("We have someone here who says she has important information… Yes. Only a woman. She says it's for the nameless ears only.") I heard him talk.
Meanwhile, the second man held me at gunpoint, like an eagle who spotted its next prey. Petrified, I didn't dare budge nor twitch, despite the pain that flared up my leg from the rough and sharp edges of the slabs cutting into me.
I don't provoke men who are equipped with the means to end my life.
Gritting my teeth in anguish, I squinted my eyes, concentrating on the wind that caressed my bare cheeks. The breeze that swished through my golden locks, blowing them against my forehead and exposed lips. The shiver that ran down my arms, as another gust of wind swept through the thin material of my shirt, causing me to shudder slightly. I remembered the look the Sergeant gave me, as he caught sight of my bare face. The side glance, the Lieutenant couldn't hide. The warmth that spread over my cheeks...
And suddenly, the world went dark, and the wind stopped, as an impenetrable burlap sack was thrown over my head. Before I could fully comprehend what was happening, I was yanked off the ground.
"You comin' with me." One of the men said aloud, while hands firmly pressed down on my back, front, sides and legs until someone's fingers finally curled around my biceps, tightening to a sickening grip and pulling me along the way, I barely managed to stumble along.
My sense of direction was massively hindered by the fact that I could not see where I was going. I was being pushed and pulled, from left to right, handed over like a piece of trash that was pulled off the streets.
Stumbling forward, what I'd quickly realized would be the last time, I was suddenly held back from continuing. With two soft hands on my shoulders, I was promptly turned a hundred and eighty degrees, before the sack that had been on my head this entire time, was pulled off.
Strands of hair fell onto my sweaty face, and I squeezed my eyes shut, blinded by the sudden brightness spilling into my eyes.
"Hermana…" The man called out in a quiet, slightly gruff tone.
I knew that voice.
I forced my eyes to open, blinking away the uncomfortable sting in them, just to stare at a familiar set of eyes behind an unfamiliar disguise.
"Alejandro…? Holy fuck-" I called out, surprised and utterly gob smacked. Faintly, I recollected him voicing he'd be my eyes and ears; however, I did not expect him to mean it quite literally. If I hadn't recognized his voice and the set of dark orbs staring back at me, I would have believed he was just another cartel member.
Feeling him swipe several stray strands away from my forehead, his face transposed into a serious mien. "No time- Listen, give them good intel in there." He stepped closer and I swallowed harshly. "Don't lie, tell them everything they want to know, or you will die here."
Or you will die here… Die? Will I really die? I'm not ready to-
"Everything? Tell them everything? Shit-" I repeated, aghast.
He looked away, as if trying to grasp the courage to continue, swallow the bile that seemed to rise in his throat. With a hardened look on his face, he turned back to me. "Everything… Mexican Special Forces. American PMCs. Shadow Company. Phillip Graves… All. Truth." He squeezed my shoulder, before the elevator we were in, stopped and the doors behind him slid open, revealing the hallway beyond. Watching him step to the side, I couldn't shake the dread that befall my mind, the terror that forced all my bones to tremble uncontrollably, nor the panic that washed over me.
A spiteful chuckle split the silence and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. "¿Es esta ella?" ("Is that her?") A man with a wide smile asked, eyes glancing at the Colonel until at last they slid onto me.
"Si, señor." ("Yes, sir.") Alejandro answered while I mutely stared at the stranger, whose eyes arrogantly roamed over me. Fleetingly mimicking him, while keeping my emotions strictly under control and away from my face, my eyes wandered over his soft yellow shirt adorned in colourful patterns. The brown leather straps hanging loosely over his broad shoulders and the golden necklace glistering from beneath the open collar in the dimly lit corridor, complimenting his tan complexion.
"You got a name, chica?" He asked while I observed the gun that was attached to one of his many holsters.
The profuse sparkles flickering over the smooth metal indicated the abundant decorative embellishments it was engraved with. Undoubtedly, it was a personalized weapon. A well-loved and maintained desert eagle at that.
Peeling my gaze from it, I involuntarily glanced at Alejandro, who stood quietly to my right. Our eyes met for a split second. "Ascii. My name's Ascii." I spoke gently.
"¿Un husky? ¿Por qué carajo te llamarían por una raza de perro?." ("A husky? Why the fuck would they call you by a dog's breed?") He asked no one in particular, yet he looked at the guard, as if expecting an answer. A moment later, he urged me to follow him with a chuckle escaping his throat.
Stepping out of the elevator, I didn't spare the El Vaquero a second glance. My eyes were strictly focused on the man ahead, his back, the way he walked, the way his body moved. The smallest details were of importance. A slight limp to his stride, a tiny twitch in his hand.
Find the advantages in the disadvantages.
"A little birdy told me you have information." He looked over his shoulder, allowing me to catch sight of his menacing smile hiding behind his dark beard. I shuddered inwardly. "It better be good, chica. Otherwise, your name won't be the only dog I'll be calling." Another loud laugh followed, while I held my distaste locked inside of me.
"This though-" He gestured around himself, "-is my house… that means-" Turning his upper body he pointed at me, while continuing on his marry way, "-you don't meet the boss until I say so." Averting his gaze, he took a few more steps, before looking back yet again. "You don't speak unless spoken to." His voice shifted from a dominating and booming sound into a calm and threatening tone.
I recognized the common practice of intimidation, from a mile away, yet it still managed to deeply unsettle me.
"Good. Seems you understand well... For now." His laughter boomed through the eerie hallway. Abruptly, he came to a full stop. "And más importante-" He turned on his heels and took a step towards me, causing me to straighten my back slightly, involuntarily coming eye to eye with the narco, "-tell the fucking truth. 'Cause if you lie, this husky-" he took a strand of my hair between his fingers and brushed over it lightly, "-will fall to my pit bull." Pulling away, he snuffled noisily, put his hands on his hips and sauntered down the passageway.
Taking a split second too long to follow, the guard behind me, took the opportunity to ram the butt of his assault rifle into my upper back. Biting down on my tongue, I repressed the small noise that wanted to escape me, swallowed the anger that bubbled up and tried to downplay the pain that spilt over the entirety of my backside. I didn't even dare to roll my shoulders to ease the discomfort I felt. I simply continued walking, trying not to show any signs of hurt.
"¿Qué chingadows estás hacienda?" ("What the fuck are you doing?") The man I was trailing behind asked angrily as he stood rooted behind the corner, causing me to come to a full stop a safe distance from him. Following his line of sight, I stared through a set of wide-open glass doors, into a room filled to the brim with antique shelves, desks and a set of leather armchairs. Observing the men that rested at one of the many tables, I noticed the white small packages that laid scattered across the entirety of the desks surface.
It didn't take a genius to figure out what exactly I was looking at.
Holding my breath in anticipation of what was about to go down, one of the gang members turned towards us. Taking small shaky steps, he seemed rather off, as he made his way towards us, trying to de-escalate the visibly heated situation. "Llevo dias sin dormir…" ("I've been up for days…") He seemed to plead, words falling on evidently deaf ears.
"El jefe dijo que cero drogas." ("The boss said no to drugs.") My escort argued back sternly.
"Diego, ya sé, pero es solo para estar al cien." ("Diego- I'm just trying to stay sharp, y'know?") The goon continued as my attention zeroed in on the name that just left his lips.
Diego.
Filing this information for later, I watched with a perplexed haze, as Diego punched the justifying man into his jaw, initiating his collision with the uneven wall to the side before grabbing him by the back of his neck and pulling him towards himself, only to slam his fist into his stomach. Letting him go, the man dropped to his knees and hands in a daze, however the assault didn't stop there, instead the perpetrator took the cowering underling as a sign of permission to continue his relentless aggression.
Taking a wide swing with his leg, he dug the tip of his cowboy boot far into the sensitive abdomen tissue of the already injured goon. Unable to react in any way, I put a mask of indifference over my face and forced my body to stay calm and reserved while my emotions went haywire in the depths of my scattered mind. Albeit, as he knocked the man nearly unconscious with a precise hit to his head, voluntarily striking his right ear, causing blood to splatter over his and my own clothes, I couldn't prevent my eyes from blinking and my visage to contort into an aghast expression.
"¡A ver si el dolor te despierta! ¡Vuelve al trabajo!" ("The pain will keep you sharp! Now back to work!") Diego towered over the man with fury coating his words, before straightening to his full height and turning away. Noticing him caressing the hand with which he had stricken the man, he shifted his attention back onto me. "Las Almas is at war. You want to win? Don't disobey." He explained serenely, a stark contrast to the emotions that fled his system a moment prior.
I glanced at the wounded man on the ground and his comrade, that came to his aid after the beating went down. Their mannerism expressed unending fear, another stark contrast to the proud and arrogant stance they had when we first approached them.
Cataloguing another chunk of information in the slowly but surely filling data folder harboured in the depths of my complex mind, I began moving forward before I would get another painful jab to my back.
"That is how the organization survives,-" Diego continued, while he sauntered leisurely towards the last and only door visible at the end of the hallway. A direct indication that we have arrived at our destination. "-and that is why the boss is here tonight."
I fully stopped in my tracks.
"The boss? Here? Tonight?" My eyes drifted nervously between him and the still closed doorway. "Behind the-" I felt a cold shiver run down my spine.
Diego sighed. "No… Sin Nombre's personal sicaria is." He smiled wickedly.
Fingers twitching behind my back, my shoulders lowered slightly from their tense posture, a heavy burden falling from them, until the latter part registered. His personal sicaria. Sicaria. Si-caria. Even with my limited knowledge of the Spanish language, I scarcely recollected the meaning of said word. Hitman. Shutting down all my fight or flight responses, cordially acting against my emotions trying to overwhelm me, I stood tranquilly in the hallway, as Diego grabbed the knob, pushed the door open and swiftly stepped inside.
"Valeria, there's one more. A gringa." He announced, while simultaneously making way for me to walk in behind him.
The first thing I noticed, was the smell that penetrated my senses. A sour scent, stinging my already crinkling nose. Pondering on it further, I concluded it was a concoction of bodily fluids, bad breath and fermented wine. Stumped by the distinct smell of alcohol, my bewilderedness was explained by the numerous wine bottles laying on the shelves and scattered on the ground all throughout the room.
Attention quickly shifting from the bottles to the bright construction light illuminating the center of the room, I gazed upon three chairs sat in a circle, all of them occupied by what I assumed were soldiers, given by their military apparel. Examining further while I slowly made my way down the small flight of stairs, it quickly became crystal clear what was going on here.
The wine cellar I found myself in, was sloppily converted into a torture room.
"Hmm… Sit down." A woman commanded. The only woman, beside myself, that stood tall in the back, arms crossed over her chest, eyes narrowed at me. She motioned with a small sharp nod, precisely which chair I was meant to occupy. To my utter confusion, it was taken. Stumped, I faltered in my steps, until a narco stepped forward, grabbed the sleeping man by the neck and arm, hauling him off the furniture and dropping him like a bag of potatoes on the ground. Furrowing my brows, it occurred to me, that the marine wasn't unconscious at all.
He was dead.
Sickened to my core, I turned and sat on the still warm chair, tensing as the goon pulled my tied hands over the back of the seat, forcing my whole body into a strained position I had trouble upholding. The moment I would even attempt to relax my posture, the wooden backrest would cut into the underside of my upper arms. Uncomfortable and restricted in my position, I caught the eyes of the second military man sitting opposite of me, who promptly looked away, before I turned my head to the right staring directly at the third victim who was twitching uncontrollably.
"¿Y este quién es?" ("Who is this?") I heard Valeria ask.
Allowing their conversation to flow freely through my ears, I watched in real time as the man gasped and gulped for air, unable to breathe through the white plastic film covering not only his airways but also his whole head.
"Su nombre es Ascii. Ella vino a nosotros." ("Her name is Ascii. She came to us.")
Diego answered, whilst I was still focused on the wildly twitching man. Slowly though, the movements seemed to cease, until there were none left.
"¿Husky? No mames." ("Husky? No way.") Valeria snorted.
Meanwhile, I felt my skin crawl unbearably and bile rise in my dry throat.
"¿Y la dejaste entrar? ¿Así nomás?" ("And you let her in? Just like that?") Her voice took on a dangerous tone, yet not enough to cause me to look at her.
No, I was still occupied by the stillness of the soldier.
He is dead. He is dead. He is dead. He is dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.
"Ella dice que tiene información-" ("She says she has information-")
A commotion finally released the hold the deceased man had on me, and I looked over, just to see Diego on his knees, while Valeria held a knife to his throat.
"Pendejo de mierda. No tenemos ni puta idea de quién es esta chica y ya nos vio la cara." ("Fucking asshole. We have no fucking idea who this girl is, and she already saw our faces.") She yelled into his ear, while her eyes bounced between him and I.
Shuddering, I knew they were speaking about me.
"Valeria- necesitamos información. Ella podría ayudarnos." ("Valeria-we need intel. She could help us.") Diego tried to deescalate the situation, whilst holding both his trembling hands into the air, feigning surrender.
Displeased, she moved closer to his ear whilst holding strict eye contact with me, embedding authority and supremacy into my veins. "Será mejor que nos dé algo porque si no, después de que mate a esta chica, el que va a esa silla eres tú." ("She better give us something because if not, after I kill this girl, the one who goes to that chair is you.") Enraged, she pushed him away from herself and stuck her knife back into the appointed pouch. Diego on the other hand, pulled himself off the ground, caressing his sore throat and devoting just as deadly of a stare at me, as Valeria did previously.
Not showing any sign of distress, I held his angry stare until the sicaria pulled a gun out of the holster on her hip.
"¡Niños!" ("Children!") She called out, walking up beside the dead soldier, who was still tied to his chair, and tapping him lovingly on his knee. The whole ordeal felt disrespectful and grotesque, fitting for a sicaria. Mustering the remaining soldier and I with mischievous delight, she began disclosing her rules. "This is simple: I ask questions. You answer truthfully." She paused and seized us both with a serious gaze. "Do not lie to me."
Holding my eyes a moment longer, she pulled away with a glance at her polished weapon, before turning halfway towards the soldier bound to the third chair.
"Recently we were protecting a friend in the mountains. Someone attacked us there…" She began talking slowly, with a softness that temporarily caught me off guard, up until she asked who it was. Then her volume backtracked to the determined, borderline anger filled tone I had witnessed before.
The man who had been asked this question, hesitated. Eyes roaming from her, onto me and back, yet as the silence continued and the sicaria prevailed, he sobered up and began answering with a noticeable stutter.
"Fue todo fue un caos, no veía…" ("It was all chaos, I didn't see…")
"En ingles para chica blanca!" ("In English for the white girl!") She interrupted him pointing aggressively at me.
Concerned about the meaning of her outburst, I kept quiet, remembering Diego's words.
Only speak when spoken to.
"I- I think it was the Rivals Cartel." The man stammered and I understood; she ordered him to speak in English. A language I understood, making the flow of the conversation easier for her and ultimately me.
Catching Valeria addressing me, I focused on her. "Your turn, niña blanca…" She turned towards me, sliding her fingers over the gun. A clear threat, should I not comply or satisfy her thirst for knowledge, she would quickly make use of the cursed object in her hand. "Who attacked us?"
"Mexican Special Forces." I answered easily.
Surprise latching onto her otherwise stoic visage, she clicked her tongue. "We found the bodies. Fuerzas Especiales." She smiled knowingly, although that smile quickly turned vicious. "Now-" She sauntered between us. "-how would an outsider know they were Mexican Special Forces and not you?" She asked into the round, yet her head was turned towards the soldier.
"M-maybe she was there!" He answered unsurely, causing my heart to take a needless leap.
"Tú estabas ahí, pendejo." ("You were there, asshole.") I heard Diego whisper yell into the face of the visibly shaken up man. "Tal vez ella también." ("Maybe she was too…") He carried on, looking directly at me as he spoke.
Keep calm. Speak unless spoken to. Not any second sooner.
"There were outsiders helping the Mexican Special Forces… Who were they?" Valeria's voice boomed over all of us.
"W-we heard them yelling- s- some in English. They were with the gringos… Like her!" The soldier leaned forward aggressively, desperately trying to throw me under the same bus that would sooner or later drive over him.
All eyes turned towards me. Uneasiness settled like a heavy blanket over me, a tiny sliver of doubt growing in my mind.
"It was an American private military company- a group specifically, called Shadow Company." I explained, taking their overwhelming attention as my cue to answer.
Valeria hastily walked to her right-hand man, Diego.
"Los Vaqueros están trabajando con mercenaries, güey." ("Los Vaqueros is working with Mercenaries…") She mustered in disbelief.
"Esas putas víboras." ("Those fucking vipers.") Diego vocalized aggravated, causing the soldier to also give in his two cents. "¡¿Ves?! Tenía razón, ¡fueron los gringos!" ("You see?! I was right it was the gringos!")
His outburst didn't seem to please the sicaira. "Can you prove this 'Shadow Company' even exists, imbecile?" She demanded to know, catching him unprepared.
"H- how can I prove this…?"
Valeria scoffed and walked towards me, stopping just shy of my knees. "What about you? What proof do you have?"
"En mi bolsillo tresero..." ("Check my back pocket…") I heard Soaps voice in my head revising the words over and over like an anthem, as I articulated my reply. Even so, I was afraid my proof wouldn't be satisfactory, and the terror of not delivering what was asked of me frightened me to my core.
A second passed and I watched paralyzed, as her face shifted from wonder to doubt yet ultimately converted into pure interest. Curious, she leaned forward, breaching my personal space with ease. Holding my breath in fear and anticipation, I felt my heart beating relentlessly in my throat. Side eyeing her as she lifted one arm to reach behind my back, I felt her gun press into my stomach.
"No sudden moves, rubiecita." She whispered into my ear while I bit harshly down on my tongue.
Goosebumps forming on my neck and spreading over my arms, my breath hitched as I felt her fingers slither down my back and into my back pocket. Tensing, the suspense was instantaneously broken, when I smelt the slightest hint of something flowery hit my nose. Eyebrows twitching in confusion, I was reminded that there was an actual person behind the guise she kept up with. She was not an imperishable being, indestructible, timeless…
She was a mere human.
"What do we all have in common, Sinja?" My old drill Sergeant once asked me.
"Emotions?" I answered unsurely.
"No. Physical flaws. Weaknesses. A soft spot if you will. Find it, and the person is at your mercy." He drilled it into my head. "Paint the whole picture through the details."
Suddenly, she pulled away and stared at the patch that was held firmly between her fingers.
What is her weakness? Family? Friend? Partner?
Observing the soldier attempt to sneak a peek yet failing miserably, he opted for the direct approach. "¿Qué es eso?" („What's that?") He voiced with interest.
Feeling eyes on me, I elucidated what the item of interest was, that the sicaria held in her hands. "That's the proof. Shadow Companies insignia."
Breaking eye contact with me right away, she looked over her shoulder at Diego, a muted conversation unfolding between them. Skittishly, I watched them, ultimately being taken aback, when she lowered her face back to mine. With our proximity resembling neighbouring atoms, I was able to notice the black mascara stuck to her eyelashes and the dark eyeliner lining both her waterline and upper lash line.
"Who leads Shadow Company? Give me a name." She asked and my world collapsed temporarily. Short on time, I bit the bullet and answered, truthfully. Although I had the go-to to do so, I still didn't enjoy throwing comrades, allies under the bus.
"Phillip Graves."
"Fill Graves." Diego chuckled in the background. "Llenar tumbas. Me gusta eso." ("Fill graves. I like that.") He went on, as Valeria came up to him and pressed the patch into his fumbling hands.
She turned back to me, sensing the key to Pandora's lockbox was sitting right in front of her. "This man… Graves… What does he want?"
I froze.
There were too many answers to this broad question, too many truths that could lead me and anyone involved to even more trouble. Yet, at the same time, I was also here to infiltrate; get answers to the many questions I have- we have. But where should I begin? What reply could I give, that would minimize the consequences for us, yet maximize the opening it would leave for a precise counterattack.
I felt the heavy burden of an imaginary clock ticking by my side, reminding me that the longer I needed the more suspicious I would make myself.
Tick.
Tack.
Tick.
Tack.
"The missiles. He wants the missiles you are moving." I held my breath in anticipation.
Silence.
Tick.
Tack.
Tick.
Tack.
"Cómo se enteró de eso?" ("How did you find out about that?") Diego mumbled, eyes narrowing as he regarded me. Suspiciously.
"iNo se puede confiar en ella, no puedes! iHazme caso!" ("She can't be trusted, you can't! Listen to me!") The soldier began expressing his opinion loudly.
"Tú no nos has dicho ni verga, idiota." ("You haven't told us anything, idiot.") Valeria yelled back enraged.
The soldier pulled back, pressing himself firmly against the back of the chair he was bound to. I felt the sudden drop in the heated dispositions. There was an unforeseen shift in the dense air, causing me to feel lightheaded as I anticipated what was to come.
"iNo, no! iNo lo hagan, por favor, por favor! iNo quiero morir, no, por favor! iSe los ruego!" ("No, no! Don't do it, please, please! I don't want to die, no, please! I beg you!") The soldier pleaded, eyes hectically roaming from person to person, until at last they settled on Diego, who had already rounded the chair to loom over his trembling form.
"Te pagamos bien y el extranjero sabe más que tú." ("We pay you well and the foreigner knows more than you.") He muttered over the soldier's head, and I knew it didn't bode well.
My suspicions were confirmed when Diego pulled his own gun out of the holster and aimed it directly at the man's head. With my heart pounding aggressively against the walls of my ribcage, my back muscles tensed under the excessive emotions filtering through me. Holding my breath in hopes of stopping time from moving forward, I felt the hard wood of the backrest cut into my underarms, as I shakily grasped onto my own, cold and sweaty hands, still tied securely behind my back.
I was horror-stricken. Frightened out of my wits. Petrified.
I did not want to witness an execution. Observe a man get shot. Up close and very personal. He was only an arm's length away…
"Hora de matar a este culero inútil." ("Time to kill this useless motherfucker.") Valeria smugly announced and Diego enthusiastically agreed with everything the sicaria just voiced.
Startled to my core, I didn't look away. Didn't manage to pressure myself into closing my eyes or averting my gaze. Instead, I watched helplessly as the man begged for his life. Pleaded to be let go.
I felt as though it was me that was being executed. His pleads cut into my heart, clouded my distressed mind, suffocated the determination I clung onto, the will to finish this job. I wanted to run away. Flee like a fool and never look back.
Abruptly, a shot rang through the small room.
I flinched.
The man slumped forward, lifelessly.
I stared at him in horror.
Red liquid coated the ground beneath his feet.
I took a shaky breath as my eyes fixated on the entry wound on the side of his head.
Blood flowed from it, across his cheek and further down his jaw.
I focused on the droplet that separated itself from the rest of the vital fluid.
It fell and landed on his leg, soaking his green pants in a dark scarlet hue.
I couldn't tear my eyes from it.
Shuffling close by startled me, the distinguished noise of a knife slipping out of its sheath sent me into full alert.
I swallowed the painful bile that rose in my throat, as the sicaria stepped closer. The knife shimmered dangerously in the harsh light, yet I could only focus on the colour of her nails. A shade of hot pink.
Is this the end?
She walked around me, her hand sliding down my arm towards my bound wrists and unexpectedly, I felt the ropes loosen up, until they slid from my raw skin and fell to the ground.
"Qué bonito… Te vi bien ahí. Well done." ("How nice… Did good there. Well done.") She praised me and pulled away. "Ahora sí a chambearle." ("Let's get to work.") She called out while walking past Diego who in return motioned for me to accompany them.
Pushing myself off the chair, I felt my stomach turn as my eyes landed on the lacerated entry wound on the soldier's temple. This death appeared different. More personal, more intimate. The sorrowful pleading, the sound of the gunshot bouncing off the walls, the body slumping lifelessly over, the blood splattering on the nearby bookcases. Everything felt unlike anything I have ever experienced.
I caressed my raw wrists gently, the image of the wound engraved onto the back of my palpebral.
"We're going upstairs." Diego announced, capturing my attention, thankfully. I followed him wordlessly up the stairs, keeping my eyes trained on his back. I didn't need to see the other bodies littering the room, the blood sticking to the furniture nor the bullet shell laying innocently on the sullied ground.
"C'mon güera." He stopped in the doorway to make sure that I was behind him, before continuing. "To be fucking clear- we're not done with you."
I laughed bitterly in my head.
"Sin Nombre will decide your future…"
We shall see.
Rounding the corner, we walked past two men fiddling with a new set of tiny packages. Watching them a second longer, I recognized one of them as the guy who got beaten up. Searching for an injury, to affirm my suspicions, I came empty handed. Feeling spied on, our eyes involuntarily met.
"Más les vale ponerse a trabajar, pendejos." ("Better be fucking working, assholes.") Diego yelled over my head and our eyes hurriedly separated.
Furrowing my brows deep in thought, I walked up to the elevator. Valeria was propped against the far-left side, waiting patiently for Diego and me to join her. Rebuffing the sudden urge to punch the self-righteous look off her irritating face, I slipped past her, stopping just shy of the back wall. Turning, I felt the cool metal brush against my clammy back.
Diego walked in after me, pressing several buttons, before grabbing my shoulder and pushing me fully against the wall.
"Los Vaqueros se mueven rápido." ("Los Vaqueros is moving fast.") He grumbled; disappointment etched onto his displeased face.
"Yo voy a estar en el penthouse con El Sin Nombre." ("I'm going to be in the penthouse with the nameless.") Valeria mustered, causing my ears to perk up.
"El Sin Nombre? In the Penthouse… Will I meet him now?" Questions spilled out of my mouth, undeniably catching both of their attention.
"Valeria's gonna speak with the boss, now. You-" Diego began explaining, fingers digging into my shoulder, causing me to slightly shrink back and into myself. "-will wait with the others."
Valeria took my recoil as an invitation to step closer. "I have a feeling, El Sin Nombre will be…" My unbalanced expression met her smug guise. "-very interested in talking to you."
Disgusted at her tone of voice and implication her words brought forth, my mind instantaneously shut down.
A moment later, the chime of the doors opening pulled me out of my crisis.
"This is where you wait, Ascii…" Diego declared, pushing me out of the elevator and directly into the arms of a guard who had clearly been waiting for us. "Estaré en la ofrenda. No me interrumpan." ("I'll be in the ofrenda. No interruptions.") Diego called out.
The guard assented and forcefully pushed me against the nearest wall, face first, leading me to lift my hands to spare my visage from being pushed against the cold glass. Irritated by the manoeuvre, I observed three men in a heated discussion, just on the other side of the translucent divider. Scrunching my nose as I felt the guards' filthy fingers roam over my body, my eyes lit up when I heard a familiar voice.
"Órale, me encargo de ella, güey. Te necesitan afuera." ("Come on, I'll take care of her, dude. They need you outside.") The voice instructed smoothly.
"Bien. Tienes que darle una máscara y vigilarla." ("Ok. Give her a mask and watch her.") The guard responded and I felt relief flood my system as his grip left my frame. Taking a shaky breath, I kept my hands firmly on the wall. While the guard had been replaced by someone I knew, there were still more than two sets of eyes present in this room.
"You're alive."
"Contrary to the three other poor souls, yes… M' glad to see you, Alejandro." I whispered back as I allowed his hands to roam over my arms and sides, keeping up with the charade. Taking a split-second break from everything that had happened, I put my poker face back on and slipped back into my professional persona. "El Sin Nombre's in the penthouse. Third floor." I explained.
"We'll need a key card."
"Diego has one. I'll try and nick it either from him or wherever he keeps it." I disclosed.
"Here-" He held a knife out for me. "-you'll need it."
Gracefully taking it out of his hand, I inspected it briskly, before hiding it in a pocket and thanking him. Finally stepping away from the panel, I caught a glimpse of familiar fabric in his hands.
"A mask, is it? Thank god, the glances people have been giving me, was makin' me nervous." I murmured.
He chuckled quietly. "I can see why."
I lifted one eyebrow and mustered him with a side eye. "Yeah… I suppose I can see why too."
I didn't fit in here. Fair skin. Light hair. Blue eyes. And a woman. The opposite of most I have crossed paths the past few days.
"Luck is on your side then. There are some people here who can't be seen with the cartel. A mask is mandatory." Alejandro clarified.
"Lucky indeed." I took the cloth from him, swiped my hair away from my face and slid it quickly over my head.
"Comms are hooked in. Radio check?"
A slight bit of comfort enveloped my tired shoulders.
"Gotcha, loud n' clear." I answered.
"You're good then. Let's head out." He declared.
Parting our ways, I slowly waltzed through the massive glass door and onto the inner courtyard.
It's been two months since my last update. Time flies by way too quick…
On another note, I tried translating the Spanish parts as best as I could, of course with lots of help from Mr. Google, and even then, I am certain I have butchered it here and there. Particularly with the feminine and masculine gendering of words. Apologies for that.
Regardless, hope ya had as much fun reading another chapter as I had writing it!