Intoxicated // Countryhumans RusAme

Chapter 9 - Despicable

"Are you ready for this?"

Brazil scanned the large doorway up and down before turning to look at Mexico, who looked a lot less confident about this than he did.

They were on the outskirts of Chicago, a lonely place far away from most civilization. From what Germany had informed them, this should be the right place to attain their first piece of the puzzle. Indonesia and Malaysia would stay outside of the manor, being on the lookout for any suspicious activity.

Mexico observed the entrance which glared down at them with its intensity and acuity. "T-This place looks nice," he mumbled.

Brazil let out a sarcastic amused sigh, "Well, who knows how much money they earn." Taking a deep breath, he continued, "Let's just hope we have the right guy." Right before Brazil knocked on the door, the entrance automatically began opening up itself. The metal screeching sounded heavy, and in precaution, both countries stood back.

A minute or two passed of them just blankly staring inside until Mexico finally suggested, "Should we go in?" His shaking hands clutched on tighter to his backpack and Brazil nodded in return.

Unlike Mexico, Brazil kept his straight face, knowing how wrong this could all turn out to be if they went in unprepared. He then paused to open up his briefcase, moving around a few objects, before taking out something small and metallic and handing it to Mexico.

"Hide it," Brazil said nonchalantly, motioning Mexico to put it in his back pocket.

Mexico did just that but asked, "Why do we need this?" while examining the small handgun.

Observing the area around them, Brazil turned his head both ways before explaining, "There's a high chance something can go wrong." His eyes were serious and bold and Mexico nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. 

They both turned to each other and gulped, smiling awkwardly to initiate that they were ready to go inside. After a few steps inside, the main entrance door closed shut behind them and Mexico flinched.

"State your name."

A roundish male figure approached them with scornful eyes, his dozen or so rings showing off his superiority. Brazil caught himself staring for a moment and fake-coughed awkwardly when the stranger noticed, looking down at his phone. 

"Alfred... Jones sent us."

With no reaction at all, the man replied, "Very well, follow me," and turned the other direction. Brazil clicked his tongue, carefully eyeing every movement the man in front of them made. He was fully concentrated on every small detail until Mexico leaned in and got his attention.

"Mind explaining who the hell Alfred Jones is?"

"That's the name that Germany went with."

Mexico nodded and looked back at the figure they were following. "Are you sure we can trust this guy though?"

"Does it look like we have any other choice?" Brazil answered in a shrug. "Don't stress over it so much. We'll be fine." Even though Brazil made sure to sound fearless, Mexico could eye the slight concern Brazil was trying to hide in his eyes.

"If you say so."

Before they knew it, they stood in front of a room and the man gestured them inside, closing the door behind them. The room was lavished in rich furniture, tapestries decorating the velvet-colored walls, and the still-plants gave off a sense of unrealistic tranquility.

"Have a seat," he said, gesturing to the couple chairs loosely placed in front of an office desk, where the man seated himself behind. Placing his briefcase down, Brazil looked at Mexico and they sat down as well.

Clasping his hands together, the man eerily grinned. "So, gentlemen. I'm presuming you're here to discuss the matter behind one of my client's international transfers, correct?" The man's radiating overconfidence in his control on the situation was irritating at the least, and Brazil had to try his best to not express his annoyance towards him.

"That's one way to put it," Brazil replied.

"Well, I'm afraid I don't give out my client's personal information," he said as his expression suddenly changed to a much more sly one. "That is, of course, under normal conditions..."

Brazil rolled his eyes. "We know you want the money, but how can we be sure you're even linked to this transfer?"

The man leaned back, smiling wickedly. "2,000, and I can answer your question."

Mexico objected, "What? You're insane!" Braz—" Brazil stopped him and slid sixty hundred dollar bills across the table. He glared at the man, who seemed to be enjoying his hateful reaction.

"How do we know?" Brazil reiterated himself in a harsher tone.

"A person resembling a country I presume is who you're asking about?"

They both widened their eyes. "He knows," Mexico mouthed to himself in shock.

The man explained furthermore, "The young lad came in here not too long ago and offered quite a hefty amount to send one of his mechanics undercover internationally."

Brazil stood up, slamming his hands on the table. "To which country?"

"50,000."

"Are you out of your mind? I'm not—"

"60,000."

Brazil bit his bottom lip, turning to Mexico who was shaking his head in disapproval. Taking his briefcase out anyways, he took a few minutes to count up sixty thousand dollars before handing them to the man, who happily took the money.

"Which country?"

"If I remember correctly I had it sent to Manila, Philippines—"

An unexpected explosion of gunfire startled Brazil and Mexico. They suddenly quickly stood up and stepped back. In a few short seconds, the man fell over, bleeding out from the back. It took them a while to make sense of the situation. "We need to leave," Brazil finally said, grabbing Mexico's arm.

Mexico was still in a state of shock. "Wait what just—"

Suddenly, another explosion occurred. This time, the lights were knocked out as darkness quickly flooded the room. Jingling the door handle, Brazil realized that it was locked from the other side and cursed loudly under his breath.

"Looks like we have company," Brazil said turning around to face the room, and quickly took out his handgun that came in handy. He then dragged Mexico to the corner of the room, hiding behind a convenient plant that stood in the way of them being seen.

From the minimum amount of light that poured into the room from the cracks of the door, Brazil could see a faint pair of footsteps walking and pacing around the room. 

The walkie talkie then suddenly rang from Brazil's briefcase, "... are you there? There... people in there and... went in as well-" 

Brazil cursed, "Shit—" as another shot rang but closer to the plant they were hiding behind. If they stayed there now they'd be killed for sure.

"Mexico, we're going to have one chance at this," he said, his voice slightly shaking.

"W-What do you mean?"

Brazil took his hand again and dashed to the door as quickly as he could, gunshots following their faint shadows. In the span of a second, he kicked the door with all his strength. After a second kick, the door cracked, and Mexico and Brazil squeezed through, running as fast as they could out of the gap they had created. Before the next shot could hit them Brazil and Mexico ducked, turning at the corner of the first hall.

They didn't hear any footsteps running behind them but they didn't bother to look back to check and kept sprinting towards the exit in panic.