John tears at his suit, sending buttons clattering against the ground before dropping the entire coat on the asphalt underfoot.

  He slams his hand into the roof of the car with a heavy thud, before bringing it up to his face as if to bite down the rage that threatens to rise in his throat.

  A hand at the small of his back quells the flames, but only long enough for him to get into the car and slam the door shut with a resounding “Fuck!” that luckily doesn’t reach the others in their own vehicles.

  The passenger door opens, and Bella slips in, kicking off her heels and bringing her hand to rest on John's leg now, while she turns the key in the ignition for him and blasts the AC.

  “It was a beautiful service…” Bella tries, her tone soft. “I think she would have liked the casket they picked for her.”

  “Yeah, a real nice casket. A shame her actual body got mopped up and burned to destroy the evidence,” John bites out

  Bella holds onto his leg, rubbing one thumb back and forth in a comforting silence, until the cold air from the car's vents helps snap John out of the inferno around him.

  “You know… I had no idea she was an artist in her free time. Did you know that?”

  “I did not…no.” Bella confirms, pulling out a small piece of paper from her purse, and examining the sketch in the light of the afternoon sun. “They are beautiful too. She was quite the artist.”

  John lets his fist tap against the steering wheel a few times to try and force even more of the anger down, though it doesn’t seem to work.

  “I can drive, if you'd like?”

  “No…No it’s alright. Driving helps me relax.”

  “Alright.” Bella lets her hand go, and John shifts the car into drive to exit the church parking lot, following the line of cars back out into the town.

  John retraces their steps for a little while, before he banks off in the opposite direction of the base, thankful that Bella doesn’t question it as they dive deeper and deeper into Havana proper.

  They pass by crowded streets of colorful buildings as the locals go about their business. John lets the silence linger as they park the car just outside a bar, and feels a familiar weight on his shoulders as he throws open the half rotten doors and takes a seat inside the bar with the best view of the exit.

  Bella follows after him, back in her heels, and positions herself at his side, her hand at his back, rubbing it softly as he orders them some cocktails.

  “Nice place.” Bella tries to joke, accentuating the irony of the point with a nod to the peeling wallpapers and suspicious volume of stains that litter the ground around patrons that look a little too eager to keep staring.

  “I remember passing it on the way to the warehouse, looked like a good spot.” John gives a nod to the bartender who places their drinks down in front of them.

  “The drinks at the base are free, you know.”

  “I know.”

  Bella nods, and takes a sip of hers, before allowing herself to relax in the chair.

  “How did the debrief with Blackwood go? Rumor has it you nearly took the man's head off.”

  “Oh. as well as expected.” John grabs his pack of smokes from his pants pocket and lights one up, offering another to Bella who takes it.

  “A slap on the wrist then?”

  “Ha, a slap on the wrist… you people don’t know him like I do.”

  “You people?” Bella raises an eyebrow.

  “The mercs who only knew him from the PMC. Trust me, Blackwood is a cruel, vindictive fucking monster when he wants to be. You are all luckily the teams are good, you haven’t fucked up yet, you haven’t seen him get disappointed.”

  “Is it really that bad? We are talking about the same Blackwood? Honestly John I know you are angry but I find that hard to believe.”

  “Well you better fucking believe it.” John scoffs and throws back half his drink in one pull, chasing it down with the sweet flavor of tobacco.

  “I think…normally I would not, but after I did my digging…”

  John shakes his head.

  “It makes me fucking sick. Just how bad is it by the way?”

  Bella nods her agreement and takes a pull from her own smoke. She tilts her head back dramatically, nearly falling off her chair in fact, but she holds herself steady with her hands on the table and lets the smoke rise up into the stagnant bar air up above.

  “One hundred and forty six, as of this most recent mission,” Bella whispers the words softly, not believing them herself.

  “All Kids doing?”

  “No… not all, some of them were other mercenaries, not T1. a few members before I came on it seems.”

  146 civilians killed on Blackwood's orders. Their RIO allows for a plus one collateral on any given target, which meant that if someone else other than a target died in the natural course of an attempt to secure or kill said target, then it was acceptable.

  Civilian casualties fucking suck, but at the end of the day what they do is dangerous and sometimes its unfortunate but unavoidable. After the night on the beach with Bella however, John had wondered just how many non-plus one civilian casualties there have been. Obviously there would be records of every “clean up” for Blackwood’s personal file, records that would never go anywhere but records none the less.

  Neither John nor Bella could get access to those, but Bella has quite the way with words and evidently managed to get some admins to spill the information verbally.

  “One hundred and forty fucking six…” John rubs at his forehead, working the muscles with his thumb and index finger. “We gotta fucking stop this.”

  “I know John, I know.”

  “I have half the mind to plant a fucking car bomb—”

  “John, no, you know we can’t do that.”

  “They will never know it was me.” John only half jokes, looking up from the table to meet Bella's very concerned gaze.

  “They will, the spooks always know.” Bella frowns.

  “I just… fuck Bella I know we have to wait, I know we have to be smart about this, but how many people have to die before we move?”

  “Less than if we move before we are ready.”

  “When the fuck will that be?”

  “I… do not know, none of us can know, the details of the contracts are very particular after all. If this is something we are serious about, and I do not believe it needs restating that I am deadly serious about this, then we need to ensure we have evidence, that it happens—”

  “Yea yea, that the civilians killed matter more…” John dismisses, his entire being focused so heavily on ripping Blackwood apart with his bare hands it's hard to even begin to stomach the thought of waiting any longer.

  “You are not listening to me John.” Bella places a hand on Johns, and brings his focus back to her. “Killing civilians in other countries is a slap on the wrist, and us blowing the whistle is hearsay. It is our word against his and we both know the United States is just as eager to keep their favorite attack dog in the field, yes?”

  “Yea… Yea I get you.” John sighs and finishes off his drink, ordering another one.

  “It means we need evidence, first hand evidence, we need proof that this is something that happens, but more than that, we need proof that it happens inside the US. Your people are very eager to fight, eager to fight against injustice I mean. If we can prove injustice and show it, then we stand a chance, though if Blackwood is as bad as you say he is, then even then he will come for us.”

  “I’m sure he will, but even if he does it will be out from behind the shield the DOJ offers him, which means we get to burn him to the ground, and I get to rip his fucking head off his god damn shoulders.”

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  The conversation dies down as the bartender gives them their second set of drinks.

  John wipes some sweat from his brow as the humid air threatens to cook him alive, though he tries to quell the burn with the ice cold cocktail before him.

  “Have you heard anything about our next operation?” Bella asks, catching the shift in the mood and effortlessly directing the conversation away from John's desire to murder their employer.

  “We got a number coming up in and around the area according to Casper. Central American cartels are acting up again. Evidently my time down there a handful of years back set them back but didn’t kill their drive to keep being fucking scum.”

  “I am sure Casper is thrilled, more time on boats, more time in the water?”

  “I’m sure Kane is thrilled too, more opportunities to test his whale fucking theory.”

  Bella snorts a laugh and nearly chokes on her drink, which in turn makes John chuckle and nearly suck down his cigarette.

  “I am sure you are thrilled, more chances to see me in my swimsuit.”

  “It is a very nice swimsuit.” John confirms with a half cocked smile.

  “I am glad you like it.” Bella winks and finishes off the last of her drink.

  “I gotta enjoy it while you can still wear it, rumor around the TOC is that all these Central America missions and next seven or eight after it are just the ramp up to the big one.”

  “Oooo, the ‘big one’, I like the sound of that.” She sticks out her jaw and bites the tip of her tongue in that way that drives John crazy. He gets lost in her eyes for a moment before the silence stretches long enough for Bella to clap in front of his face. “Earth to John, the ‘big one’?”

  “Sorry, I just like hearing you say that.” John hides his shit eating grin from behind his drink.

  “You haven’t shown me yet, I do not know if it is or is not as big as you say.”

  It's John's turn to nearly spit his drink, but he catches himself before it soaks Bella through in that dress of hers.

  “So… tell me more about it then.” She leads.

  “I’d say it's around seven—”

  “I meant the mission.”

  “Ah, right.” John coughs a few times.

  “If I wanted to know about your cock, I would prefer to see it, rather than hear you talk about it. I cannot see the mission however, so let's talk about that.”

  John shakes his head and wipes his face of the red he worries is showing through just a little too much.

  “Rumor has it, the ‘big one’ will have us dealing with some captured anomalies in Russia. The TOC is acting as though this is the crowning achievement of Blackwood's career. With how tense things are with the Soviets, I don’t blame them. If the USSR has the assets our spies claim they do, then we are in real fuckin hot water. It also means if we can get away with operating successfully within our worst enemy's territory, then there is nowhere we can’t go, which opens up a whole wide world of future contracts.”

  “Hmmm, I see, that is of course, until we burn Blackwood to the ground.”

  “Right…”

  “Well, It will be very interesting to see how everything ends up working out, no? What comes first, the fall of the Soviet Union or the fall of Blackwood.”

  “Cheers to both.” John raises his glass, and Bella clinks them together.

  They finish off their drinks, and wait for the next round, the conversation dying for only a short while as John listens to the ambient conversation around them, lost in his meandering thoughts about what the hell he would even do once the PMC disbanded.

  “Worried you will be cast adrift again?” Bella asks, as if reading his mind.

  “How did you know?”

  “The look in your eyes.”

  “I’m that easy of a read?”

  “Of course, easy for me at least.”

  “True, all you would have to do is ask, and I’d be very easy for you.”

  Bella snorts another laugh and blows her cigarette smoke into John's face. “A dirty minded one, ever since we have gotten here.”

  “What can I say? The tan looks good on you, and the training really shaped you up.”

  “I do say I look good.” Bella examines herself in the reflection of some distorted metal against the far wall of the bar.

  “But yea, just a little worried. Not sure where I will end up when things here disband.”

  “You do not wish to go home?”

  “No real home to go back to. As of a few months ago, the national guard came through and cleared out Oasis. The place is a rat's den now. All drug lords and gangs and ne'er do wells, that is what they are actually calling the place, Rat’s Den.”

  “Oh lovely.”

  “Ain’t it? But besides, my house burned down before I joined up. Even if I had a home to go back to, I wouldn't go there.”

  “It would be a good place to blow off steam. Be a typical American and shoot everyone you see with a gun.”

  “Haha.” John rolls his eyes.

  “Is that not what you people do?”

  “No, it isn’t, though I should clarify that I did that before joining the PMC, but I am not representative of the American people.”

  “You just shot people you didn’t like?” Bella’s eyes go wide.

  “No no, just that, shit. I mean I cleaned up the streets.”

  “A vigilante I see.”

  “Not sure I like the word much, but I suppose you could have called me that. It was more… survival. My community was there, I lived there. Hell, I was raised there. Oasis was my home, so when the gangs ran through and started throwing rounds at the house of my old squad mate's widow you’re god damn right I did something about it.”

  “The police did not do anything?”

  “Fuck no. They sat around and collected tax dollars. Hell, they backed me up even on account of being able to take care of the shit they couldn’t.”

  “I bet your wife was very worried for you.”

  “She uh… yeah she was.” John taps a finger into the tablet.

  “She was not?” Bella raises an eyebrow.

  “She never knew.”

  “She didn’t know you grabbed a rifle and shot up gang members? I find that hard to believe John.”

  John shakes his head. “The first time I picked up a gun in the civilian world, and used it against someone, was when she was first set to be admitted into the hospital. I had pulled every penny I had made from the Marines to pay for her cancer treatment, but the money never made it to the hospital.”

  Bella ashes her cigarette and leans back in the chair, her full attention on John.

  “A man by the name of Solomon Cross had taken control of the place, his lieutenants did rather. They were using the entire hospital as a private recovery ward for their enforcers and their uh…their working girls.”

  Bella winces. “My god…”

  “I got down there and saw the place, stormed in with a chip on my shoulder and this idea that no one would actually fuck with me on account of this being a real god damn city with laws… it didn’t work too well. They beat me half to death and left me to die. Took everything I had to crawl to home…god she was so fucking scared when I came home like that.”

  John grimaces at the memory, the fear in his wife's eyes as she saw all the blood, the agony in her face at the state he was in. It broke his heart more than the men had broken him.

  “I was out of money, and with no other options left to get her the treatment she needed, I strapped into my old gear and raided the whole goddamn hospital once I stopped bleeding. I dropped the men who beat me, I captured the lieutenant and told Cross exactly what needed to happen. My wife needed her medicine, or I would hunt him down and blow his fucking brains out.”

  “And it worked?”

  “It did… Cross said he was sorry, that his lieutenant was out of line. He rebuilt the hospital, flew in new staff to help my wife…”

  “He sounds like he isn’t so bad.”

  “He is a fucking monster, who realized that playing nice and by the book bought him more good will than ruling with an iron fist. He needed the people on his side and me out of his hair. If I made a move against Cross, then I'm the asshole who took the one source of financial support for the hospital down.”

  Bella nods her understanding. “The most difficult monsters to fight are those who are loved.”

  “Amen.” John raises his glass and Bella clinks it again. “But to put an end to his story… She didn’t know that's what happened. And by the time she got into the hospital it was already too late. She was weak, fragile, barely conscious most of the time. Even with all the medical support in the world there is only so much you can do when cancer is everywhere. I would visit her in the days, and in the nights is when I would work, when needed. It isn't as though I ran out and sought a fight, but if a fight came to me I would make sure to end it. I never got caught out again, because I stopped thinking of that city as a city. It was a war zone, and so long as I continued to think of it that way, then I was alright.”

  “It sounds exhausting, to live your entire life at war.”

  “It’s the only life I know… hell it's the only life I'm good at. It's why I ended up back here.”

  Bella once again brings her hand to rest on top of John’s, and rubs her thumb across it.

  “There is more to life than just war.”

  John meets her gaze, and feels his heart leap from his chest like a school kid as she leans across the table and kisses him. With one hand on his chest, she holds him there in the kiss for a while, until eventually she breaks it off with a warm smile.

  “I… suppose you’re right.”

  “I often am.” She kisses him again, and for that brief moment, he thinks he might be able to believe her.