Are we what we think we are?

But we can do this, right?

Brett was scared now. The deep thuds of Eddy's military boots booming louder than his heartbeat in his ears.
The pistol clicked as Eddy pulled it out of the old suitcase. Spare bullets clanking at the sudden movement. Their basement was full of either musical instruments or weapons. The left filled with violin bows, shoulder rests, their old violins, a bass guitar, one cello, a viola, recorders, triangles, an acoustic guitar and a keyboard. Their piano was long broken, untuned and left to dust. Two pairs of pitiful eyes stared at it each day, but they both knew they couldn't play it. The right side was filled with rifles, bullets, pistols, ammunitions for different types of guns. A machine gun, five pistols, an array of combat knives and bulletproof vests, thick and brown boots, gloves, helmets, a camouflage suit and all of Eddy's medals. At the back somewhere laid his ID, which he did need now.

It was three in the morning, and the sight was all too familiar to Brett. Eddy changing into military clothes, the thuds of the boots filling his ear, the pistols in the living room cocking, the loud voice of their then commander-in-chief. It was Eddy's first mission at the border, five militants were secretly told to attack the enemy base, the mission was successful but three returned as dead bodies. And Eddy returned with a shot shoulder.

This time the case was the same. Only difference, there was no commander-in-chief, neither were there any other people. Also, the danger level was much much more high. If they couldn't reach the base in time, or if the news of their arrival somehow leaked, they wouldn't return alive. In fact they wouldn't return at all. The terrorist group was so evil, and uncanny, they would have ordered their troops to either burn or bury the militants alive. Brett was shaking now, eyes red from lack of sleep. Eddy had tried time and time again to make him fall asleep but he didn't.

Eddy needed to leave for the base in the central part of the country, where he would be recruited to 'kill' the President, and then he would be off for the South. After three days his team and him would reach the South Base and Brett would be sent at the refugee camp in the North.

It would all turn out fine, at least there was no harm in assuming that.