Final Call for Mercy

44

The inky dark of the sky could have been fear-inducing in any other scenario. However, as we all gathered by the corner of a street, camouflaged by the lack of light, it felt more like a blanket of safety. The black attire we all shared merged with the night, and each of us were trained so that our steps were no louder than the blowing of the wind. We were one with the night and we belonged to it's darkness.

I lead my men forward, acting as their armor and their view. If anyone sees us coming, I'll be going down first. I never understood leaders who don't go into battle, who send their men to die and watch comfortably from a distance. I'll never understand watching your people die at your command and not even taking a part in it. I am my men and the weight of my orders will fall on my shoulders as well.

So we move forward at my lead, my pace, my command. They stop as I stop, disperse when I signal them to and wait for my signal when we finally arrive at the wretched house. Mateo is to my right and Nicolas stands behind me on the left. Our breaths are whispers to the wind, asking it to guide us as we walk into the slaughterhouse. It's chilly today, just enough that my fingers tingle and my cheeks pick up every gust with acute sensitivity. 

For a few seconds after we finish positioning in our spots, I look around. The horror of the house is stronger in person. Its windows, the dead bushes, the torn-off railing—just looking at it makes the mind scream to run away. Those who live close move away and those who saw us coming, look away. 

For a single moment I'm taken back to my street fighting days in America, where eyes could not see and ears did not listen and mouths would not speak. A time where I was just one of many shadows. My heart beats at a steady rhythm that with the serenity of the night, I can feel. I let it it wash away the worries in my mind and raise my hand with the signal to move.

Gabriel and Veronica pad up the stairs, holding their guns out as they each flank one side of the door. As soon as their position is taken, Diego follows suit, kneeling in front of the door with his lock pick.

Nicolas and Mateo make their way to the first step and I wait at the ground. They meet my eyes and I nod once before stomping a foot on the ground. The sound of my foot hitting the ground travels down the block and overpowers the wind and our breaths and any whispers in between. Diego pushes the door open and the creak as it widens to fit our bodies steals every bit of air.

Diego moves in, clearing out the entrance as Nicolas and Mateo follow behind. I walk in after them, moving ahead everyone as I clear the next section. Inside smells like smoke and mold, with the wallpapers tearing at various points in each wall. There's signs of use, like the boi-reeree, boi-reeree, boi-reeree of the bathroom faucet, or the faint smell of onions coming from the kitchen. 

Yet, the evidence of abandonment is also there; coat of dust on the entrance shoe rack and a broken painting hanging off one corner above the fireplace. Two men staring at winged creatures fighting, or winged creatures taking people or something along those lines. The painting was dusty and the room was dark and I couldn't bring myself to keep looking. So, I focus my attention on the ground. I kick aside a piano key as Nicolas meets me at the living room. He takes in the space, allowing the softest of sighs before shaking his head. She's not here. Not in this floor. 

We walk to the second floor stairs and wait for everyone to meet us there. I listen to the bathroom faucet drip and the way the sound bounces off every rotten piece of wood. The eeriness of the house makes my bones chill. When we finally reunite I signal to the top of the stairs and a collective nod lets me know everyone got the message. Clear the area, kill everyone, take Daniela.

I go up the stairs first, making every step light as a feather to avoid the groaning sounds of wood. It takes a few minutes before we're all up the stairs. I move left, guiding myself with the little moonlight as I search for any guards. Diego and Gabriel follow behind me, the soft patters of our steps like a drumroll.