TWENTY-SIX

The digital clock on the bedside counter said 7:35pm.

Ramon Diablo lay spread out on top of the hotel suite’s king-sized bed. His eyes, hidden beneath his tinted sunglasses, were directed straight up at the ceiling. He conveyed little in the way of emotion, but that was just who he was. One of Ramon’s main strengths in combat had always been his unpredictability, which stemmed from his ability to cloak his emotion; with his firm posture, his eyes always covered by his sunglasses, and a blank expression permanently plastered on his face, Ramon was all but impossible for an opponent to read. He waited patiently for the phone by the bed to start ringing.

Waiting. Ramon had always hated it. The only thing that kept him going was the anticipation of what lay ahead. The thrill of the kill, the undeniable surge of adrenaline and power brought out in the heat of battle: a Guerrero’s one true vice. Ramon for one no longer believed in the honour of battle, just in the pleasure of spilling blood. Through his experiences he had lost all faith in the nobility and honour of the Guerreros out on the battlefields.

Across the suite, lounging out comfortably on sofas in front of the TV were the other three members of Los Diablos. They watched on, amused by the spectacle that was taking place on the screen. A Japanese game show was playing, which involved the contestants making idiots of themselves running through demeaning obstacle courses.

Sebastian Gonzalez and Rosaria Rodriguez were sitting beside one another on the suite’s double couch. Their one was an interesting story. Since a Guerrero was never meant to love, both had turned their backs on the warrior’s way of life in order to be with each other. Sure, they still killed for money, but that was because it was the only trade they had ever been good at. But when they came across other Guerreros out on the battlefields of the Lost Continent they fought as one, in tandem, at each other’s side. Alone, each of them was as formidable as any Guerrero, but as a team they were a true force to be reckoned with. Many thought them to be unbeatable, at least until they had first fought Ramon Diablo. Defeat had been a tough pill for them both to swallow.

Rosaria turned to her lover and let her lips brush up against his ear, whispering something that was only audible to him. Whatever she said got Sebastian’s attention as he turned lovingly to her and took up her lips in his, the front of his pants now bulging.

Beside them, seated on a single sofa recliner, Eduado turned his attention from the television set to his two groping colleagues. He sighed, rolled his eyes and then removed his unique Guerrero blade from his sheath, studying it. At just a glance the knife appeared as normal as any other killing knife used by warriors in battle. But in this case, appearances were deceptive.

“What exactly am I watching here?!” Eduado called out loudly to get Sebastian and Rosaria’s attention. He watched on is disbelief as the sound of riotous laughter blared out from the television’s speakers.

“If you don’t like it, why are you watching it?” Sebastian asked, annoyed by the interruption.

“I’m watching it because you lost the remote, Speedy!”

“Then deal with it. It’s not our fault you’re such a lazy arse! Stand up and change the channel!”

Eduado shrugged, his eyes returning to the screen. He sat there impatiently for a few moments, his hand gripping the sides of the recliner tightly as Rosaria and Sebastian resumed making out and the laughter on screen continued. But at last he could take no more.

“Fuck this!” Eduado said. “Who needs a remote when you’ve got an Eduado.”

Once he was sure Sebastian and Rosaria were both looking he held up his blade, pointing the tip directly at the TV set.

“What is it now, Eduado?” Rosaria asked impatiently. “Can’t you see we’re busy?”

Eduado smiled as he pressed a small button on his knife’s grip and the blade suddenly shot out as a projectile, striking the Television control panel and pressing down the button to change the channel to the 1990s war film Saving Private Ryan.

“That’s more like it!” Eduado’s grin widened as he pressed the button on his grip again and the retractable blade came flying back across the room, returning to its shaft once again.

Eduado’s ballistic knife-blade was connected to the hilt and grip of the weapon by a strand of barely-visible, razor-sharp, fibre-wire. The fibre-wire fired out, connected to the back of the blade, whenever the button on Eduato’s handle was pressed. This enabled the blade to be quickly retracted if he pressed the button a second time. Therefore the weapon was much more than just a ballistic knife; it could be used as a projectile and even a whip as well. It was not a weapon that was deemed sporting for Guerrero duels, but of course Eduado had always used it anyway. He loved to fight dirty. It was why he had slain so many Guerreros over the years in one-on-one combat. None of them ever saw it coming. Well, except of course for Ramon Diablo, who had handed Eduado his one and only defeat.

Eduado still had a smug look on his face as Rosaria suddenly spoke. “You think that was something, Eduado?! Watch this!”

In one quick movement, Rosaria drew her blade from her sheath and hurled it at the television set. The blade twirled through the air, embedding itself in the control panel of the tv and the channel switched back to the Japanese game show.

“See!” Rosaria laughed as she walked over and retrieved her blade, then sat back down beside Sebastian. “You’re not the only one who can do that, Eduado!”

“Yeah, that’s my girl!” Sebastian began to clap. “But now I’ll show you both how it should be done!”

With a speed so fast that it was barely visible to the naked eye, Sebastian drew his six-shooter from his holster and fired a shot right through the tv’s control panel. The bullet passed right through the exterior frame and blasted the television set right off its stand.

The three members of Los Diablos all jumped to their feet, howling with laughter as the sparking television set fell to the floor with a crash and then burst into flames.

Across the room, Ramon Diablo sat up upon hearing all the commotion. “What the fuck are you guys doing?! We’re not in Bolivia anymore! You can’t just go around shooting whatever you want!”

“Sorry, Ramon,” Sebastian bowed his head apologetically. “I guess I got a bit carried away.”

“I understand, Sebastian, you’re bored, just like the rest of us,” said Ramon. “But we can’t risk drawing any more unwanted attention to ourselves. Our work begins tomorrow. I want you to remember why we are here. Who we are here for!”

It was at that exact moment that the smoke drifting up from the broken television set activated the suite’s fire system. Eduado, Sebastian and Rosaria all looked up blankly as the fire sprinklers activated and a shower of icy water came raining down on them.

Ramon sighed. “Fucking hopeless. Every single one of you. I hope I didn't make a mistake sparing each of your lives.”

“So,” Eduado said, trying to remain calm as they all got drenched. “What are you guys going to do with your share of the money once this thing is all over?”

Sebastian’s eyes wandered from the pouring ceiling sprinklers down to his comrade. He shrugged. “I haven’t really thought about it.” He turned across to Rosaria. “I’ll probably use it to buy something nice for Rosaria.”

“Fuck, that's boring!” Eduado bellowed.

Rosaria shot him an angry glance. “Typical Eduado. I wouldn’t expect a big stupid ape like you to understand the way to a woman’s heart!”

“Easy now, crazy lady, there’s no need to get defensive,” Eduado shook his head. “Do you want to know what I’m going be doing with my half of the money?”

Sebastian chuckled mockingly. “It’s not half, idiota. You’ll be getting a fourth of the bounty just like Ramon, Rosaria and myself!”

“Why don’t you blow me, Speedy!” Eduado muttered under his breath.

“Si, I’d love to,” Sebastian laughed. “But you’re too small to fit in my mouth.”

Rosaria turned flirtingly to Sebastian. “It’s cold out here, I’m going for a proper shower.”

“Hope you don’t mind if I join you,” Sebastian smiled.

“If you insist.” Rosaria took his hand and began pulling him across the room towards the bathroom. “Just try to last longer than a minute this time.”

“Hey, guys!” Eduado called out, a playful grin creeping across his face. “Am I invited too?”

Sebastian and Rosaria both whipped around and gave him a fierce look.

Eduado raised his hands sheepishly. “Hey, I was just kidding…”

The fire sprinklers had turned off by the time Sebastian and Rosaria left the room.

Eduado went back and took a seat on his soaking recliner chair. He picked up his takeaway box of noodles off the floor beside his chair and began to devour them with his hands.

Across from him, Ramon Diablo suddenly sat up as the phone on the bedside table started to ring. He answered on the second ring. “Si, Diablo speaking.”

...

The man on the other end of the line was calling from across town on a dark and deserted stretch of outer city street in a pay phone booth.

“I have word from the man,” said the Kojima-gumi’s smiling assassin, Ichi Fujita, in his usual jovial voice. “Be ready and in position by no later than seven tomorrow morning.”

Fujita waited a few moments for Diablo to respond.

“Si, understood,” came Diablo’s reply.

Then Fujita hung up and walked away into the shadows, tucking up the collar of his long, dark trench coat. He was still smiling as he disappeared down the street.

...

Ramon put down the receiver on his end.

“We’re a go for tomorrow?” Eduado asked, barely audible with a mouth full of noodles.

“Si,” said Ramon. “0700 hours.”

“Good,” Eduado sat up excitedly in his chair. “It’s about time!”

“Si.” Ramon nodded, glancing over to the bedside clock. It now read 8:46pm. “Try to get some rest, Eduado. I need all three of you in top shape for tomorrow.”

Eduado relaxed back into his recliner.

Still lying there perfectly still on his mattress, Ramon Diablo’s feeling of restlessness had now started to fade. In its place, the anger came racing through him like bolts of lightning as he forced himself to remember why he was here in this city. Ramon’s hands began to shake. Sierra Rico. He firmly clutched the shaft of the Guerrero blade dangling from his gun belt. The anger swelling up inside was consuming him from within: his usual emotion-void face had suddenly became rumpled with expression lines, bulging with the pulsing blood vessels of his forehead; his breathing was short and fast, slowly quickening.

Ramon bit down hard into his own lip. This feeling of rage was not something that he was entirely accustomed to. Usually he would never let his emotions to get inside his head like this. Emotions clouded one’s judgement, and Ramon’s faultless judgement had always been his greatest asset. But this time, this man Sierra Rico meant so much more to Ramon than any other adversary he had ever faced. Ramon had a score to settle with the man, a feud going all the way back to the bloodiest years of the cartel wars. It was a rivalry that Ramon knew would finally be closed by the time his work in this city was over. The grudge between two Guerreros would be settled. One way another, the wrongs would be put right and the guilty would be punished.

Sierra Rico, may honour be bestowed upon me once more with your death,’ Ramon thought. May your blood wash away my shame!