Jason
Training resumed at the sugar factory. I knew we’d be working with guns today and, needless to say, I was bummed as fuck when Tobias handed me a paintball marker.
“If you can’t keep your finger off the trigger with this, you sure as fuck aren’t touching a Glock,” he said when he saw the flash of disappointment in my eyes.
Tobias’s demeanor has shifted since training started. Before the fight, he was all devilish smirks and catcalls, but now…
He’s like a drill sergeant.
Tobias's men taught us stance, grip, sight picture, and how to squeeze the trigger rather than jerk it. We spent the morning shooting targets and learned the difference between cover and concealment. Concrete can cover you—bullets can’t penetrate a concrete wall.
Concealment is just hiding…you can hide under a table, but it won’t protect you from a shootout.
The day was long and hot, but then Tobias put us in a van and took us back to the Kitty Cat Club. For a brief moment, I thought we’d chill and have some drinks or something.
No such luck.
We all stand in the dungeon as Tobias walks down the line. “Standing still gets you killed. If you're on a job and you get ambushed, you’ll need to use everything we learned today like it’s second nature. Need to think for a moment?” Tobias points his fingers at my head. “You’re dead.”
I swallow hard, trying to school my features while Tobias locks eyes with me—his fingers like the ghost of a gun against my forehead.
After a long moment, Tobias removes his hand. “And never point a real gun at one of your own.”
Holy shit…
“My men are positioned throughout the maze,” he continues.
“Your job as a unit is to reach the end without getting shot. The lights are dim, which mirrors when most jobs take place: at night.” He gives us all a once-over before adding, “Line up at the entrance. This won’t be timed—speed doesn’t matter if you die. ”
We nod and make our way to the maze entrance.
“Begin,” Tobias yells.
The lights go out.
“I’ll take the lead,” I whisper to the other two recruits.
We hug the wall, stepping lightly to the maze’s main space. My eyes trail right, then left, trying to spot irregularities in the space. The dungeon is dark, but the emergency lights are still on, which casts shadows and…
Silhouettes.
I spot the outline of a body in the rafters above the main area.
My eyes narrow—
I squeeze the trigger.
“Ow! Motherfucker,” the guy yells just before a smattering of paintballs rains down on either side of us.
The three of us hit the ground, paint splattering just overhead.
We backtrack down the corridor and huddle up. “I hit the one in the rafter, but there are definitely more fuckers out there ready to clobber us.”
“Any cover in the main area?” one asks.
“No, we gotta dart across in the open,” I explain.
They both curse.
“I’m gonna try to get the guy at 3 o’clock. One of you cover me.”
We creep to the opening, staying low for concealment.
One of the recruits slides up beside me just far enough off my shoulder that we’re not in each other’s way. I slice the corner, exposing only my shoulder and one eye. I fire off a round and conceal myself again.
A burst of paint slams into the wall from our nine o’clock.
“I’ve got him in sight,” my teammate says, and he fires off a round, nailing a dude perched on top of the maze divider to the left side of the main area.
“Fuck yeah,” I say, and he gives me a nod with a smile.
The third guy in our group closes in. “How are we gonna get across? There’s nowhere to take cover.”
I think for a moment, trying to assess how we can get the shooter to our right.
I eye my partner's jacket. “Gimme your jacket,” I whisper.
He hands it over without question, and I toss it around a blind corner, and the paintballs go off. I slice the corner, get a view of my target, and just let it rip.
“I’m out,” he says in a disappointed tone.
This is actually kind of fun.
There’s no way to be sure, but I’m almost positive only three men were patrolling the main area, so I decide to brave it and race across to the other side and duck behind the wall.
No shots fired.
The others dart across, just as the emergency lights go out.
Fuck.
It’s completely dark—I can’t see six inches in front of me.
“What do we do?” one asks.
I press my finger to his lips to keep him quiet, then pull both men closer and whisper as quietly as possible, “Sit tight. Let your eyes adjust.”
I’ve spent enough time out in the woods at night with Gabe to know this.
My eyes adjust, the shadows above slowly morphing into silhouettes moving about the top of dividers and slithering along the rafters.
Fuck me.
Tobias’s men are everywhere, and we’re like sitting ducks. I see the outline of a box, and I recall there was a metal chest that had kinky shit in it when I was here with Gabe.
“We need to take cover,” I whisper. “Follow me.”
They follow me to the chest, and we huddle up behind it. My eyes look above, and I see what I think are four guys perched on the dividers and one in the rafters.
I pull my men closer again. “Do you see them above us?” I ask.
The men look, their jaws dropping. “Fuck,” the one whispers.
“We can’t take them all, but we’re down here where it’s pitch black. They have no visibility at all. Follow me.”
We’re silent as we slither along the wooden walls of the maze, but then the lights turn on full blast, and I look up to see a swarm of HellCats, and I dive under a metal folding workbench.
My team isn’t so lucky—both get nailed.
I’m hiding beneath the bench, listening to the HellCats above me chuckling and making jokes. They think they’ve got me, but they don’t know who the fuck they’re dealing with.
I look around, trying to find something…
Paint splatters off the walls and floor around me; Tobias’s men are just waiting for me to try to make a run for it.
The bench I’m under rattles—his men have jumped on it. I push with my legs, lifting this fucking thing with my back, and the men go tumbling to the ground.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
I got ‘em! Holy fuck, I got ‘em!
They look at me with wide eyes. “Nice, kid,” the one says.
The lights go out again, and I make a run for it—rushing along the maze walls.
The red exit sign is in sight.
My legs move on instinct, running hard when the light turns on, and Tobias stands right in front of me.
Pop.
Red paint blooms across my chest. The sting radiates through my ribs.
Tobias shakes his head. “You’re dead, Jason.”
The other HellCats walk over, leaping down from the tops of dividers.
“Why are you dead?” he asks.
“I-I saw the exit…”
My voice trails off, but Tobias adds, “You got target fixation.”
I slump with defeat. “I did.”
“You saw the finish and forgot the mission. Don’t let that happen on Friday,” he says.
My gut clenches.
Friday…
“Alright. Let’s head home. We’ll meet back here tomorrow, and the three of you need to make it to the end. We’ll do it as many times as it takes until all three of you survive.”
Tobias looks at me. I spent the whole day chasing one thing: that tiny nod of approval. Losing it at the finish line feels worse than the paintball.
He rests a hand on my shoulder and says, “No one makes it through the first time. That’s why we train.”
The subtle words of encouragement are enough to keep the fire in my belly alive.
I’ll make it tomorrow. I will.