Capítulo 12: Guards? Really?
I am sitting on a support beam above Butch as I peer down at him. I hear him mumble a short string of curses. Good, I'm already being the PITA I strive to be for him. He is looking around, but like most humans, from my perspective, he is too prideful or stupid to look up. Why I say that is because I noticed that when something happens or there is a loud noise, people always look around or behind them. Maybe even below them, but never above.
One time, I was relaxing by just sitting on a street lamp, and this girl and her boyfriend saw me in the background while they were taking a selfie. Their phone was then hit out of the girls hand, by a completely random and unknown force (heh), and ended up breaking when it hit the ground or from the impact of being hit from her hand. They then instead of looking up and slightly behind them, they pulled out the man's cell phone and used the camera to look for me. Obviously I was already gone, but that is kind of just wrong. At least in my preference…
As I am remembering this moment in my life, and thinking about how I later stole the broken phone back from them just to make sure any trace of me was completely erased, Butch yells out.
"Sage, you little… Gah! GET OUT HERE RIGHT NOW YOU UNGRATEFUL BRAT!"
Ungrateful… I'm hurt he thinks so much of himself and his little proposition to join his team… If anything it would be me helping him out if I joined. I was not going to join anyway but now I can give a reason if they really want one.
"Sage, you can either keep running or you can face the inevitable. The choice is up to you, but keep in mind that I will seek justice for my father!"
What a pain and how is going to their trial inevitable if I could just keep running? Or kill them? Also, you got all your father's stuff back so I owe you absolutely nothing. I decide to leave him to his fantasies of having the upper hand, and travel further down the hall in the direction he was going to take me earlier.
The hall, I soon realize, is going from the homey hallway look it had near the entrance to more of a regal mansion look. It pisses me off to know that there are people who put their full trust in them, yet are starving, and then Team Claw has this well kept HALLWAY that probably takes the same amount as a dozen meals to maintain a week. Oh well, it's not my problem so I shouldn't think too much of it. If people were not hungry and delusional, it would make my job a lot harder.
I spy yet another door leading off from the hallway, except this one has two guards. Like that is so much better. Quite frankly I was just going to pass it by thinking that it was useless and just like all of the other occasional doors with a guard. So doesn't the extra guard have the opposite than desired effect? Idiots…
I leap down from the center beam I was walking on and walk up to the two guards. I must not have made enough noise to let them know I was coming because they immediately grab the rifles that were slung across their backs and aim them at me. Now I was going to just make up some lie and get information from them about what was behind the door, but now I at least have to end their lives… I'll do both.
I quirk one eyebrow and give them a look that basically says 'Do you really want to do that?'. They must realize something odd is going on here cause they lower their guard ever so slightly and get out of shooting stance, but their rifles are still aimed at my vital points. Little do they know that my vitals are protected with a double bullet proof lining that I put into all of my clothing.
"Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?"
Isn't that a little cliche? But I guess they are good questions for the unknowing…
"Butch…", Is all I respond with.
You can see a wave of confusion and then understanding cross their eyes. I can tell that these guards are better trained then the ones that are most likely still 'napping' in the back of the van. They keep their faces neutral, but their eyes are a dead giveaway to what they are thinking. Oh Butch, with all the money we make as a mafia group, can't you at least hire or train better guards? Now I'm really curious how we are so high up in our clan ranking… Aren't we third almost passing second?
"What business do you have here? We saw Butch go running back the other way. Shouldn't you be with him and not here? Aren't you on trial today?"
Well look here, he does have some brains!
"Don't believe rumors… they can end with you dead."
That shuts the first guard up. The second guard must not be smart enough to take the hint because he speaks now, even though his friend tries to stop him.
"What did you say!? You are the one imposing here, not us! So you better watch yourself, buddy!", He is moving a bit closer to me with every word. I recommend you move back, although you already called me 'buddy' so I might have to move up your execution and just break into the room to see what is inside. This guy is obviously to dumb to be of help and I'm going to guess his friend will react to the second guards death in one of four ways… Let's see which it is!
~~~
Meanwhile, the first guard is trying to pull the second one backwards, already knowing I'm above them in skill just from my threat earlier. He finally gets his friend back to his original spot before the situation can escalate.
'Phew, at least this guy in the hood looks like he is not offended. Should I apologize for #906– I mean Jimmy? Darn, I'm still using our training numbers we were given.'
I step forward, pull down the uniform mask, and say, "#906 was in the wrong, I will go over his behavior with our superior. Although, I do have to ask for you to leave. Please understand we are just doing our—…"
I was about to go into a long paragraph I had thought up in my head to get him to leave when I notice something. Blood. His clothes are damp up to his neck in a red liquid, without the mask I can smell a strong scent of blood. It is like his unique scent is blood, death, metal, and something else I can't identify…
At this moment I hear a thud behind me, and I finally blink. The sudden noise makes me realize that I had been staring at the hooded man, who I notice is also wearing a mask. I turn around to see Jimm— #906, ugh whatever, collapsed behind me. Dead.
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