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Wouldn’t be the first time, but these missions usually seem a bit time-sensitive.
“What is this?” I ask the pilot, raising my brow in question at him.
“Mission,” he replies, sounding bored.
I shake my head. “So give it to Hatchet or Night.”
“No can do. My instructions were specific. This file is yours.”
“Why? What does that mean?”
The pilot shrugs at me and I have to resist the urge to punch him…although do I? What’s the worst that will happen if I do?
Hatchet catches my eye and gives me a slight shake of his head, as if he knows exactly what I’m contemplating.
I glare at him then sigh. “Fine.” I’ll play nice.
My hands shake slightly as I open the file. I take one look at the image in there, slam the folder closed and thrust it back into the pilot’s chest.
“No way. I’m not doing that,” I growl.
“Orders are orders,” the pilot says emphatically, shoving the file back into my reluctant hands.
“No,” I protest, the file crumpling as my fingers curl into angry fists. I amnota puppet to be used. I refuse.
“You’re running point on this one. Hatchet has the weapons already. See to it that no-one on your team fails.”
“You can’t just—” I call out, but he’s already back in the chopper and starting up the engine, drowning me out and cutting me off.
“Fuck!” I kick the ground in frustration, tip my head back and roar up to the stars, “Motherfucker!”
My eyes close and I have to take several deep breaths before I can open them again without the danger of going postal. When I do, I glance around at the others,my teamthe pilot called them, waiting for them to speak up or protest, but they all remain silent.
Then it hits me. Their uneasy silence. They knew this was going to happen.
“So we’re a team huh?” I ask sarcastically. Snow, fucking idiot that he is, misses my tone and nods. “Funny how none of myteammatesthought to clue me in about this. Again.”
I can’t help adding that last word bitterly. It’s one thing to be dragged on the mission blind, another thing to be just as blind but expected to lead somehow.
How am I meant to control six supposed psychopaths?
Then itreallyhits me. This is another test. I told Seytan, or the powers that be listening in, that I have the ability to unite these guys and make them unstoppable. Maybe this is their way of telling me to put my money where my mouth is.
I can’t fail. I have to prove that I’m not only useful, but that I’m indispensable.
I look at the guys, taking the time to size them up. Standing beside each other like this, it’s easy to see their similarities and differences. The main likeness being the apprehension in their eyes. I know it mirrors my own.
But wearepuppets – no matter how much I protest that I’m not – they see us as some sort of groups of soldiers, or a fucked up vigilante gang, s bunch of powerless captives who have to follow orders no matter how much we may disagree with them. And I do disagree withthis.
I take a deep breath and open the folder once more. The image inside is burned into my mind, and I can feel bile rising in my throat. It’s a picture of a young girl, no more than ten years old, with curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She looks so hauntingly familiar, but I can’t place why or where I could possibly know her from.
“We can’t do this,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “We’re not monsters. Not this kind of monster, anyway.”
“Orders are orders,” Night says, parroting the pilot’s words back to me, his voice monotone and icy.
I close my eyes and try to push back the images flashing through my mind. I see the girl’s face, contorted in fear and pain, and I know that if we don’t follow through with this mission, the consequences will be dire. The people giving us orders have already proven that they’re not known for their leniency or forgiveness – I’m still bearing the scars of the last order I didn’t follow.
I take a deep breath and steel myself for what’s to come. “Fine. Let’s go.”
