Chapter Twenty Eight
Nothing's Fair In Love and War, Except Him
The sky is lit up in a blinding orange as it rains embers igniting everything in its wake.
Screams bounce from any solid walls still left standing.
The streets are covered in rubble, dead bodies, and fire.
Ash blankets the world like fresh snowfall.
The air is sharp with a smoky haze. I smile looking around at the destruction of the scene surrounding me.
Rome has fallen, or rather Spain has fallen that is.
The sight is a mirror of the war raging within my broken existence.
This all started so simply. We arrived and the guys gave me some pathetic plan of attack.
Little did they know that the moment my feet touched the ground, a force more powerful than myself took hold.
They cannot contain the evil that is me.
All consuming rage controls my every movement.
From breathing to outright murder, I am just a vessel of chaos and violence.
My first action was planting explosives under every major building in Spain that has a connection to the cartel.
Each fell with an unmeasurable blast leaving hundreds of fatalities.
It’s still not enough. That's how I have found myself walking the streets, armed with an automatic assault weapon finishing off anyone who tries to stop me.
The police gave up yesterday, scurrying off to some vapid hideout convinced of its safety.
What they do not understand is that there is not a corner of the earth they could run to that I would not destroy in the motive of vengeance.
My name will echo around the world. I will be the monster that brings them to their knees.
A hand on my shoulder pulls me from my spiraling thoughts.
Turning my gun to the person, Lucas’s chest makes contact with the barrel.
He hardly reacts to it as his hand fists the metal and guides it away from him.
His strawberry locks sway gently in the breeze as blue eyes hover over me.
He eyes me suspiciously like I am a rabid dog that is cornered, one that could attack at any moment.
Even he knows that I’m not in my right mind.
“If you’re done exterminating an entire country, we found their hideout.” Finally, the green light I have been seeking since we got here. Everything up to this moment, has been child’s play. Now the real fun begins.
Two hours later I find myself planted in front of a Spanish Colonial style estate.
I swivel on my heel, turning to the group standing behind me with haunted expressions painted across each of their faces.
The home holds entrance to the entirety of the cartel’s forces.
Based on the blue prints it hides an elaborate tunnel system that contains a large warehouse, arsenals, a training facility and more.
They continue on stretching out city wide for access miles away.
Some of our men have armed each of those entrances with motion activated bombs.
They stand by to dispose of anyone who manages to make it through after the detonations .
The rest are with us, surrounding the sand stone home like a wall of murder, hungry for blood.
“This is crazy.” Ryon nervously chuckles, rubbing his arm in comfort.
“This is the job. The worst thing we could face today is death. We knew from the moment we could talk that every mission holds the possibility of death.” James states plainly.
“Some of us know that fact all too well.” I say in a monotone voice barely above a whisper.
“If I die today, so be it. If that means I took out some of the pieces of shit that had a hand in Everly’s death, even better.” Lucas and I nod in agreement. Death would be a welcomed experience in comparison to the present painful existence I am forced to sit in.
Nodding curtly, I walk towards the main doors.
The guards are on a shift change so this leaves us with approximately five minutes of unguarded access.
Carefully moving forward, I shift my gun’s strap that sits uncomfortably across my chest. The heavy metal situated in my hands feels like unholy armor, casting away all of the sins its lead bullets penetrate.
I am the god that seals a sinner’s fate.
One stroke of my pen, one fire of my gun, one wrongdoing, and they will fall to my feet.
My hand reaches out, grasping the cold handle beneath my fingers.
A shiver runs through me as if it's made of ice. It’s not due to the temperature but the adrenaline funneling its way into my muscles as I buzz with anticipation.
Time to play. I twist it and push the door open in silence.
A soft instrumental melody plays quietly throughout the home while the gentle hum of lives within vibrates in casual conversation.
I draw my weapon as I enter the hall. White marble speckled with gold coats the floors and walls in a show of true wealth.
Taking in the room across from me black curtains cast the large windows, cloaking the contents of the home from the outside world.
The giant sectional couch holds the back of three heads while nearby chairs are filled with men sitting casually.
Some watch television while others play on their phones.
Little do they know that there is a predator lurking within these walls. Death is not far from their grasp.
Inching forward, the movement of air draws my attention behind me for a moment.
I turn slightly to see Ryon gently shutting the door behind him.
I turn back around and continue my direction of movement when I am halted by a man walking out from a hallway.
We make eye contact long enough for the realization of all parties to set in.
He draws his gun as I lift mine to fire.
The bullet leaves my gun with an explosion as it flies through the air and lodges itself somewhere inside of his skull.
The moment the blast goes off, all hidden parties turn and within milliseconds, bullets are sent back and forth.
We dive for cover continuing to take out our enemies.
I aim for one of their heads and fire, shooting him right between the eyes.
He drops with a thud that would be audible if it wasn’t for the sound of gunfire ricocheting off the walls.
Moments later the shooting stops, leaving us standing in desolate silence.
Pushing forward, we each take a separate path clearing various hallways and rooms. Through the earpiece, the voice of each sounds off notifying the group to the lack of human presence in each wing.
Well that was anticlimactic to say the least.
Suddenly a great force hurdles itself through my body from the right.
Thrown to the floor, I look to find a man not much older than me preparing to stand with a knife firmly situated in his left hand.
“Finally,” I think to myself as my grown appreciation for hand to hand combat leaves a sense of contentment deep within me.
Smiling evilly, I stand and position my arm in a defensive manner and cock my fists.
He lunges the knife towards my torso and I dodge it by leaning backwards narrowly missing my gut by centimeters.
I swing my fist forward and make contact with the side of his face.
He stumbles backwards while shaking his head in an attempt to regain his hazing vision.
Taking the opportunity, I rush towards him collecting his skull with both of my hands and slam it into the wall behind him.
It makes a crack noise as blood spurts and trails down the wall.
He screams as I continue the motion, until finally his voice turns to gibberish.
His eyes grow hazy as he slowly loses strength, leaving me to support his weight by my fingertips.
Finally, his body goes slack and I release my hold.
Collapsing to the ground, he lays there coating the floor in crimson as I stand over his corpse, taking in the measurable deaths that occurred today.
With a satisfied humph, I step over him carefully to not place my feet in his blood and move to rejoin with the group that is now waiting outside the door of the basement.