We return to the warehouse, the area buzzing with life and forcing us to park our truck a little further back, keeping low as we return to the grounds. There are a plethora of people to choose from, but Antonio and I came to an agreement on two different paths, either we aim to take the identities of lessen known individuals, those who just follow orders and live on the campsite, or we take the identities of high-ranked individuals, those with more knowledge and power, with more access to facilities and secrets. On one hand it would be easy to lay low and slowly gather our intel, on the other hand, we'd be able to get information pretty damn quickly and it would keep us in close proximity to our targets and the product.
We reach the bottom of a hill by the back of the campgrounds. It's steep, but we keep our breathing steady as we march our way up, our feet kicking down patches of red, orange, and yellow sand. By the time we reach the top, rageful voices reach us, arguing with occasional whimpers. We peak over top, finding that the warehouse has a backdoor, clearly sealed shut other than access requiring a key. Around the far corner, a pair of girls come marching over, holding hands as they nervously look about. I could take one of their identities, it's clear that they're already secretive enough and sneak around frequently, it would be perfect for the moments that I need to get away.
But no, we need to find a set up that benefits both Antonio and I, and putting myself into a secretive lesbian relationship would be unideal, especially since a woman partner would notice when her lover is acting or sounding different.
Perhaps I could target one of those leaders' lovers, the main problem is though, getting close to them.
And who would Antonio take? It can't be one of the two main guys since we need them for information, but we can't rely on anyone too far below them getting close enough either.
Except-
Yes, that's perfect.
The man that they had fought and raided for, who seemingly went missing overnight, Dima Faya. The absolute head of this entire set up. Antonio can take his place, it should be easy to act along with his backstory after all and to them, their leader just seemingly reappeared after missing for a few days.
Dima Faya; a drug lord and scientist that had worked with the government for several years testing new medicines—until he got impatient waiting for approval to test a new antibiotic on living beings and decided to inject it into himself, leading to an insane high and eventual addiction. He then disappeared one day, wasn't fired, didn't quit, just upped and left with his research. His colleagues claimed that the last month he was there he was seemingly strangled with unexplainable madness. His absence also left his entire department in chaos, since he was the cornerstone in every research paper and development. But that's not the end of it. He had a loving family as well, a wife and kids. His wife had gotten sick, and although his drug did cure her, she never recovered from the strain it had on her mind.
And his children are some of the few we can see running about this camp, one of the three being among the pair of lesbians right in front of us. There's another daughter, she's supposed to be the lover of Shushi, and the final child, a young boy named Wiilhem, is their designated mechanic. All of these people, despite being clothed from head to toe, I am able to identify purely from their mannerisms that were expertly documented on our mission sheets before we started.
Finally they got it all spot on.
Hopefully.
I nudge Antonio and we're on the move, leaving the lovers to their own secretive devices as we climb our way around to the far side of the warehouse. It's placed just on the edge of a sand hill, meaning no vehicles or tents are anywhere near here, and, in turn, people.
We have to be careful with our next moves; everyone living in this nation has to be an absolute genius just to be considered average, so chances are they have cameras or are at least aware of the possibility of us returning. Sure, this land is overtaken by drugs, and appears to be poor on the surface, but the school alone, with kids walking on walls thanks to their own creations, proves to us that this nation is capable of far more than it leads us to believe.
Which begs the question; how the hell was the facility with human testing in Surtigian, a land typically full of kindness and comradery, there instead of here in Rapard, where it's typically every man for himself and the smartest wins.
"Enough!" A voice shouts from just beyond the stone walls beside us, and soon, steps begin stomping out through the front of the warehouse. We can't see them, but judging by voices, I assume it's Shushi, Leon, and the guy I knocked down to save Hydra. The guy is groaning in pain and the sound of a sliding body manages to reach us through the wind and growing commotion. Then, once all movement halts, there's a yelp, like a small dog being kicked.
A few strands of thick black hair float past us, disappearing in an instant.
"I don't want you back here until you can find either Dima or those outsiders! And you better hope you end up dead before we find you!" Leon's voice now deep as he shouts ragefully.
A car starts up a few moments later, and after a couple long seconds, we see a dark man with a bleeding bald patch speeding away in some beat up lowrider.
Silence doesn't remain once the idiot departs, however, instead, I hear Shushi make an order, his pitchy voice more like a chirp, "Follow him, make sure he doesn't spread anything unsavoury to our clients."
"Yes!" A woman responds, that voice, that tone—tomboyish but still clearly a woman—it must be Dima's newest lover. She jumps into a vehicle not a minute later, and we soon watch as she speeds off in a truck, Dima's truck.
Have must've been into stronger women. I'll be a perfect fit to take her place.
We turn around and stealthily rush back down the hill, keeping low so as to avoid being seen by the secretive lovers. The colourful, hellish sand clings to us once we reach the bottom of the hill and break for the truck, hoping that our clothing blends in well with our surroundings.
I kick the truck into drive the moment we hop inside and we're off, speeding to catch up with her. The sand shoots up behind us, our behaviour wild just like the locals going for a joyride. I grip the wheel with all my might, like a moment of loosening will lead to me flying away, shot straight out of the vehicle, weightless.
The world blurs past us as we focus ahead, eyes locked on the growing truck in the distance; red from blood and rust, dented and scarred, built with a metal cannon ball launcher on the back. Even with that hefty piece of equipment, the entire vehicle is still well balanced and driving with ease.
Up ahead we also spot her target, the sleazy black haired brown man who attempted to lay his hands on Hydra. He's clearly panicking as he speeds through the open desert, swerving occasionally when he's hit by waves of hand.
He doesn't know he's being followed.
And neither does she.
Perfect.
The town grows larger off in the distance, smoke no longer raging in the sky as he blasts inside, the woman following not far behind, and us ensuring we keep our distance for the time being. People watch and stare as three beat up vehicles rush through typically pedestrian-only areas, but nobody raises a fuss, well aware that a fist can't compete with a several hundred pound hunk of metal.
By the time we spot them slowing down, we do the same, he stops outside of the home they had destroyed and hops out of his car, rushing inside, his arms pumping hastily as he bursts into the burnt building. She parks not too far from him, just around a corner, and we watch as she sneaks her way around the back, carrying a sharp object. We follow her, our truck about two blocks away, holding our knives at the ready. Peeking inside her truck, we spot a few vials, of both liquid and powder; the liquid is clear, likely distilled, and the powder is green, I suspect being dried and ground cacti. This is her deceased lover's car, so chances are she had nothing to do with it all, nonetheless, we take a few of them and continue onward, watching the windows for human movements as we sneak our way through the back.
The ground is scorched as we step through, burnt bits of sand slowly fluttering away as time goes on; by tomorrow, the moat of char will all be gone and so will peoples' care for what had occurred here. The buildings around us, other seemingly rich Rapardins, are relatively untouched. It's a squeeze to fit, with harsh sandstone scratching at our clothes, but the moment we're through it feels like a breath of fresh, heavy air. Footsteps sink into the ground, likely from curious after-raiders checking out what's left.
That's right, I have food in the truck.
We stop by the back entrance and I peek inside, it's still nicely lit, though the walls are scorched black and the sun is getting low. Right in front of us, a body, burnt, stepped on, and bleeding. Completely disregarded and tossed aside.
If it didn't risk our identities for this mission, I may have taken the hour to bury her properly. But we don't have time for that.
Moving inside, we keep low and listen carefully; the creaks, shudders, steps, and breezes. They're both upstairs, the man is in Hydra's room, and the woman is at the top of the steps, unmoving, watching silently.
We stick to the walls as we cross down the hallway, our movements and breathing perfectly silent. I place the handle of my dagger in my mouth squinting my eyes. I'd say it's about eight in the afternoon, we won't have much longer until this entire place is shrouded in darkness. We could wait it out, darkness is where we perform best, but she's likely expected to return sooner or later.
Although, it's strange that she seems so intent on killing him, despite being told to just follow him; her bloodlust is suffocating.
We could get her now, take her out while she's distracted. But I'd be lying if I didn't say I, too, also wanted to bludgeon that pig. So I'll let her do it for me.
As if on cue, there's a sudden stomping upstairs, followed by a gasp, a suffocated scream, and gurgling. Something heavy drops to the ground as we shift onwards, slowly making our way to the steps and gazing up to the top floor where a door splattered with dripping dark red, almost brownish, fluid hangs haphazardly on its hinges. We creep up the stairs, eventually finding the woman, mounted on top of him, repeatedly thrusting her blade into his face, his throat, his lungs; humming and softly laughing to herself as his blood pools around her, soaking her clothes and body. She's covered in brown, but not the same brown as the Sareanin colour, no, a contaminated blood brown.
That man was sick, and not just in the head.
No, his blood hardly had any oxygen, like it was poisoned by something.
An overdose, perhaps?
By the time she's done, she's panting for air, and from afar, his face looks like burnt oatmeal. We close the distance between the stairs and the room, and lean over to watch as she lets out a final breath, kneeling on his nutsack as she gets up. The blood painting her body begins to smoke, and as her head slowly shifts, her eyes glow a devilish red, encapsulating her, in a deeply luminant outline. She's grinning from ear to ear, yet her eyes are droopy, as though saddened. I don't waste any time, I pivot around the doorframe and launch at her, tackling her to the ground with a thud and a groan. Metal clangs and my arms struggle to hold her down, shaking and buckling rapidly as I manage to pin her wrists above her head and keep her mounted. Antonio is just past the threshold of the door, his creeping causes the ground to creak, barely audible below our seething.
We don't let up, Antonio touring above us, sticking close to our weapons to ensure they don't fall into the wrong hands. Then, he does something unthinkable, something that empowers the fire within me, he puts his hands in his pockets, and watches, like he is admiring something.
Lazy ass.
I release my grips on the woman, causing her to jolt, and immediately drop my body onto hers; my hands shooting for an array of pressure points, connecting with all of them, and she finally stops struggling. Out of habit, I check her breathing, alive but knocked out.
Now's our chance.
Now's my chance.
Antonio slides me my dagger, and with swift motions, I end her life; the knife glides through her throat and up to her chin, along the way, I disconnect her vagus nerve. This will be easy, I've watched Mystiko do it a few times, I, myself, have been trained on it, though he was far more brutal with the process.
The skin peels away as I slide it behind her ears and over her scalp, biting my lip and hitching my breath as I trim away at the edges, making my way inwards. The darkness is creeping in, lowering my precision, and Antonio just standing there and breathing so fucking loud doesn't help either.
A compact blue light then appears, Antonio now bending down next to me, his face scarily illuminated from beneath; he has it perfectly placed above my subject, a slight, proud smile playing upon his lips. I shake my head, quietly scoffing as I move onto her eyelids, carefully flowing around them as the skin detaches from the flesh. The nose and lips come off with ease, like slow cooked meat falling off the bone.
Like it's a newborn baby, I lift the woman's face off from her body, and place it bloody side up on the floor, admiring my handiwork as a deceased, skinless woman lays to my left and a silent Antonio kneels to my right.
Now I just need to sterilize and dry it and we'll be ready to return with my new identity and appearance.