Till Deceived Do We Part

I remember, when I was no older than eleven, being taught about certain organizations, similar to the mafia. They’re not too much of a concern to us, we don’t meddle too much in their business. Nonetheless, we’re still taught about them.

The reason why they never seem to go down, or get destroyed is due to their leadership. They make whoever the leader of their organization is, never susceptible to harm. They’re always immune in some way; always protected and always in another area when something goes down. That sort of technicality that defers all problems to lower class members. Those members would usually pay their lives, but the leader? Still intact. Still fit to lead. Yet if he was to disappear? Down goes the organization.

That was the problem with Dalton’s group. Lincoln was already down for the count. He was the only one left. If he went down... the guards would be helpless. They’d be puppets without a puppet master. So the key to finally ending this massacre? Take down Dalton. Something I would gladly do.

I saw him out of my peripherals. Guards surrounding him like some sort of vest, as they made their way up the balcony. The balcony that led to the sky? I had to be missing something. I made sure I was in no immediate threat of being shot, before moving from my position. I followed, at a distance, my eyes never leaving his body, even as two figures flanked me. I knew their body shape too well to feel fear.

That didn’t stop the surprise, however. Flint, I knew was here. Jake? The head of the base doesn’t usually leave the base. The same thing that applies to the organizations, applies to us. If Jake dies? We’re screwed. Or at least temporarily. Flint has been trained to take over, and no doubt will when Jake meets his end, but that doesn’t mean the head of the base should take unnecessary risks like waltzing around a battlefield.

“What are yo-“ he shut me up by quickly shoving me his jacket, covering me as I fumbled to put it on. Even if I had been lying to myself about having no shirt, the prospect of wearing one still strung a chord in me. So I took it, zipped it up quickly, and got my gun held properly again. As properly as a one-handed woman with cracked ribs could do.

“Your arm. Needs a splint.” I rolled my eyes, as did Flint. Yes, it needed a splint. Yes, it needed to be tended to. However, I didn’t think our current location called for that.

“Later. We need to kill Dalton. Now.” Flint nodded, his eyes meeting mine in agreement.

“He needs to die. Not, however, with either of you as casualties. We’ve lost too many.” His eyes met mine in grief, and I felt it. Too many of them have died. There was only us left... and Zane.

“Zane. He’s alive.” Flint’s body strummed with that fact, but he remained composed. Relief hit Jake’s face as he let out an almost inaudible sigh. My small smile slid, my eyes scanning the surroundings as we walked on. No one was paying us any attention. Most were either dead, dying, burning, mourning, or fleeing. Bodies littered the ground, as did blood and debris.

“Badly beaten, though.” Mr. Peripheral and Scar Man’s faces came into view. My eyes glanced at the wreckage, knowing Scar Man was buried in it. Almost directly beneath it. My eyes scanned to the spot where I had left Mr. Peripheral. Empty.

My heart sunk, and my eyes quickly scanned the area. He was most likely dead. Buried somewhere. There was no proof though, and my mind wouldn’t rest until there was. And if he was alive?

“A man with a broken wrist and nose might still be alive.” Both turned to me. “He’s fast. Incredibly so, but has no peripherals.” I paused. “He was one Zane’s daily torturers.” Enough said, but judging by the look Jake gave me, he also knew what else he had done. I didn’t confirm or deny it. Flint just gave a swift nod, sweeping the underneath of the stairs as we approached them. Empty.

I went first, having to shove my way in front of Jake. No way he would go first.

Rain finally began to drizzle down, making this whole night seem like one cliched movie. The flames finally begun to shrivel, and the sky, if possible, got darker. I climbed up the stairs, my senses on alert. My eyes seared with exhaustion, but I wouldn’t allow them to rest.

Front. Side. Side. Peripheral back. Repeat. Movement? None. Obvious threat? None. Possible threat? Lurking guards. Possible solution? Shoot first.

The front of the stairs came up fast, leading to the surface of the balcony, which stretched farther than the room had. It wrapped around the room, but also went out and around it, leading outside. Something I had failed to notice before, and something I’m sure the design was intended to fool. I reached the top in a roll, my gun flying up and my finger pressing ever so gently against the trigger.

Jake followed behind me, standing, Flint behind him, watching his back. Clear.

I stood, my eyes never ceasing to stop. Dalton had to have gone off the balcony that surrounded the room. It was empty as far as the eyes could see. So that only left one solution; forward. The wide balcony that stretched around the room, thinned near the end, leading downward to a narrow ladder, slick with rain and some splattered blood. Now, was that blood from a guard? Or Dalton himself? With all those bullets flying, either were highly plausible.

“Flint. Go first.” My mouth opened to protest. Dalton was my kill. “How, exactly, are you going to climb down and hold a gun at the ready with one arm, Drake?” Point taken. I shouldered the gun with the strap and let Flint go first. I allowed Jake to go next–more like forced him to–before following up the rear. Completely defenceless. That nerved me.

Flint hit the ground first, crouching, his eyes scanning quickly. Jake hit the ground next, also scanning the area, only more professionally. I hit the ground third and quickly raised my gun. No threat came.

The grass we were now on was slick. A large tree lay ahead of us, a curve in the house to our left. That’s where the tracks seemed to lead. Most likely trying to get to a car, or some sort of vehicle of some sort. Smart. Predictable, though. Flint led the way, I didn’t argue, for with the pounding rain, I was beginning to feel the shaking in my limbs.

I couldn’t feel my arm anymore. Probably a good thing, if only the numbness wasn’t spreading to my shoulder and body. My ribs protested with every step, and my ankle was beginning to look like a baseball. My head hurt and I was just plain exhausted. I was sick of almost being raped and beaten. I just wanted to go home.

Home. Whatever that was now. Home where a man lied to me my whole life. Home where my brother will now have memories of horrific torture, and a home where myself and Flint will have to realize we’ve both saved each other more times to count these last few days.

We crouched forward, but seeing my exhaustion in my eyes, Jake motioned for me to stay back. I ignored him. I wouldn’t let them go on alone. Nor would I pass up the chance of finally ending this. I had gotten this far, right?

We stopped at the turn of the house. Flint motioned with his hands for us to wait. He paused, gathered his gun tighter, and spun around the corner. He spun right back, a bullet whizzing by. My body went on alert, springing to the balls of my feet. Jake eyes went alert, and his body thrummed with adrenaline.

Flint held up three fingers before pointing to the corner. Didn’t take a genius to figure that out. His fingers dropped down to a two. Lastly, a one. He spun around the corner, dropping close to the ground and firing. I also rounded the corner, taking the high approach, letting off a string of bullets. Flint took down two guards immediately. I took down one, and Jake took down five. The three guards left with Dalton all retreated, taking cover behind one fancy looking car.

I fired, not even aiming for them. I shot out the windows of the car, sending glass cascading on their hiding bodies. They fired back, but aimless. We approached, keeping tight and low. No other way to go. They fired off a few shots, but nothing even near to hitting us.

I kept my gun trained on the car, knowing that I was so close to numbness Dalton’s life. We had entered a garage now, the door having been open by them. More cars scattered the somewhat small garage. Tools littered the walls, and benches scattered the walls with stools. I kept my eyes alert, but not alert enough.

I just caught the blur before it hit me, taking my body to the ground. He rolled us, making it impossible for Flint or Jake to shoot. Both afraid of hitting me. That’s when Dalton struck. His three guards opened fire on Flint and Jake, using the lack of windows to their advantage. I was too low to have to worry about them, but I did catch Flint and Jake both scrambling, both now incapable of helping me.

I twisted, shoving my elbow back. I got a grunt and my body shoved into the hard cement.

“You will die.”Mr. Peripheral hissed into my ear, giving my bad arm a cruel yank. I won’t lie, I screamed for the second time that night. My arm was no longer numb. I ground my teeth and elbowed back again, trying to get leverage. He didn’t have any of that. He pressed his whole body down into mine, cutting off my air. He shoved my face into the cement, his hand holding the back of my head tightly into it. My nose and mouth were shoved into the cement, my face seeming to mush around them. Oxygen left me fast as he shoved harder. I tried to buck, but my body just couldn’t move that way with all its injuries.

He dug his fingers into my arm, earning a soundless scream from me, my whole body strumming with agony. His hand continued to squeeze and the pain hit me again and again, like a freight train each time. The oxygen left even faster with my silent screams, but before I could contemplate the fact I was dying, yet again, his body was jerked off mine sideways. I rolled quickly, gasping for air. My eyes quickly darted to his body, ready to bolt.

A bullet had hit the side of his head, knocking him clear off me. If he had used his peripherals, he could have seen it. Too bad he didn’t have any, and I was immediately grateful for Zane for that tip. And to Flint for remember the tip. He was crouched a ways away, gun still trained on the man, as if he could have survived that. My eyes searched, and found Jake holding Dalton by the throat. I felt a weird sound leave my throat, and my eyes closed.

It was finally over. I let out a sigh, keeping my eyes closed, welcoming the darkness. My breathing was harsh, and I was soaked from head to toe. In both blood and water. Flint came to my side, helping me up. He said nothing, only met my eyes in a knowing way. I turned away and looked at Jake who’s face was twisted in a snarl. A vicious one, showing the assassin part of him. His true self.

I staggered, and Flint steadied me. “It’s over now. We’ll get Zane and go.” I nodded, and we both turned.

It happened in a flash. In one mere second, half a second with our backs turned, they pounced, having been hidden behind vehicles and shadows. Flint barely brought my slow body to the ground in time, as bullets hailed around us. Dalton broke loose and ran. Jake cursed, lunged and.... stopped.

His eyes met mine, and briefly, all his walls were down. I saw mind blowing fear. Fear for me. For our relationship. Fear that we’d never be the same as we were before, that I’d never truly forgive him. In that split second I saw it all and my heart clenched. It was over quickly. In a way that took my breath away.

In movies, when someone gets shot, they fall to the ground clutching their chest and whisper their dying words to the loved ones near. This wasn’t a movie. The bullet hit Jake in the head. From a man right behind him. The impact was like a bomb went off in his brain, and everything just... flew, covering my body. And as I saw my mentor, my father, and my friend get his head blown off, all I could hear were Flint’s words from a previous occasion, Ten bucks to whoever finds the biggest chunk of gore! and with that, my mind gave into the darkness.