Chapter Twenty Seven Cris

All of the Lion’s guards have dawned full tactical gear for the assembly in the main hall. The hundred or more seasoned veterans up in the front of the room are displaying their polished gold lion emblems on their chests, while everyone else are dawning the traditional darker yellow ones. The dark maroon walls are lined with twenty four ceiling height golden tapestries displaying large black lion’s faces in the middles of them. The service they are having for their fallen fellows is a bit heavier than normal. They have nothing left of their comrades to burry or remember them by this time. They won’t even get to collect their field badges this time. While everyone waits in silence for the commander to approach, the dim atmosphere keeps their moods where they should be, in anger.

They’ve all endured a big blow to their esteems, reputations, and fellowship. The first thing on their agenda, is to take the time to honor the brothers they’ve lost. From there, they’ll move right onto what they would professionally call a corrective action. The last thing they heard from any of the crew was panicked and terrified screaming. Whatever happened to them in the end, was clearly unnecessary. Revenge is in order this time.

The shame and resentment in the room is absolutely foul. Though they’re supposed to maintain a respectful silence in the great hall, there are still grumblings and curses going around. A few people tired of waiting decide to start voicing their opinions with the intent of everyone hearing them.

“The time to keep it professional has passed. Those fuckers need to pay for what they did! They’ve gone too far!”

“It’s time we made an example out of em! Time to put them in their place!”

“Forty of us! Forty of our brothers were butchered by those fucks! They’re gone forever. This cannot go unanswered.”

“I will go take them down my goddamn self if I have to!”

Cris stands at the side of the podium on stage with his hands folded in front of himself. Gerald I son the other side. He watches all the eyes on the two of them. Not many of them are friendly. They’ve only been there a couple months and already have gold badges. Every so often, they hear the words “white boy” amongst the crowd. Most of the time the words aren’t even used correctly, but they get the point nonetheless. They haven’t been received well. On top of that, they He and Gerald were the ones who were in charge of overseeing the shuttle grab.

Two men in particular have it out for them. It seems there’s still some hurt feelings after Gerald made one of them answer for their mouth. Yellow eyes with small pupils, out in the crowd, follow their every move. At the sound of the heavy latches on the ten foot tall mahogany doors in the back of the room, he and Gerald stiffly stand at attention, warning the rest of the room.

When Fred Hewitt, the Lions Group high commander, strides down through the center of the divided formation of guards, the room immediately falls silent. The skinny old man marches up the black carpet path, strutting like a rooster. Even now, he looks like he has far more pressing of matters to attend to than the farewell of so many of his subjects. He is neither patient, nor ever soft spoken.

Fred stands rigidly at his podium in his gold embroidered black uniform, glaring out across the room. Even without a single word, he is able to castigate everyone that they reap what they sow. The last time they all gathered in this room, he berated everyone for being a bunch of hacks with no professional fortitude. The work they do is serious, and should be taken seriously. Doing sloppy work gets people killed, and even worse, makes them all look like asses. Trying to tell that to any of these guards is like trying to hammer a nail into plate steel.

The Lions guards are definitely a hardened crew, but none of them are skilled. The firm was once the largest space capable private security contractor on the planet, and had the clout to ward off any challengers with their mere name, but things have fallen a long ways. He and Gerald thought they’d joining a real organization, one where they could put their full potentials to use. Instead, the one branch out of ten they could’ve been sent to, is nothing more than a thug-mill that cycles through local gangsters as fast as they can line up out front.

Like always, Fred is strictly business, and does not take well to hearing anyone’s personal grievances. Not a one of them warrants his respect or care. His red face and shiny balding head is not to be mistaken as belonging to a jovial old man. He is short with words, and especially sympathy, even now. He draws his words out with both dire emphasis and impunity.

“In response to what has happened, we are considering many advanced options for retaliation.” He doesn’t even offer any condolences first. He knows it’d be wasted on the lot anyway. “I thought sending forty of you was going to make for an easy job, but apparently I was wrong.” He glares out across the crowd. If it were fifty of you, it would only have been an even greater embarrassment!” Spittle flies from his teeth when he abruptly shouts. “The only way I can make sure, for certain, that none of you will die the next time, is to fire all of your asses right now!” He knows not a one of them in the crowd has anywhere to go, so they will all be staying, no matter what he shouts at them. “I still expect you to earn your damn paychecks! If you want to still be alive to collect them, I suggest you pay attention! That wasn’t a fucking drug deal you guys screwed up! That was a billion dollar lottery ticket, and you might as well have lit it on fire yourselves!”

The commander is more than upset that he didn’t get his shuttle, but also that he lost the ship they had too. He would stomp his way right down to hell before ever apologizing for a damn thing either. With a little bit of a facial gesture from Fred, he steps to the side of the podium to take over. Fred pulls back from yelling into the microphone and clears his throat. His voice is calm and not fiery this time.

“Gentlemen, our foremost experts on Space Security Services. Cris and Gerald.” No one I stupid enough to even sneer at the introduction of them.

Even though neither he nor Gerald likes a damn one of the guards, he looks out across the room with what looks like sympathy. “I don’t believe there are many of you who have come across SSS guards, and even fewer who have lived to tell of it. In contrast to that, Gerald and I have almost twenty years of experience with them. We know their corporation and hierarchy plenty well. Had we been aware of their specific involvement earlier than we did, things would’ve been handled much differently.”

There is a little bit of an uproar from the crowd this time. He realizes he shouldn’t have phrased it the way he did. The guards would like nothing more than to blame management for sending their brethren to their deaths. He holds his hand out like Fred usually does, to get them to shut up, but it doesn’t work. All it takes though, is a hint of a movement from the commander to get them to immediately fall silent.

“Now look, you guys. For most of you this is a job, you risk your lives to feed your families, and I get that. However, SSS guards are different. This isn’t a job to them. This is their life. They go out wanting nothing more than to collect more of those little red X’s they put on their Armor. They don’t even have homes to go back to after a day’s work. They do this shit for sport.”

One of the guards from the crowd shouts out, despite the stern look Fred is looking out across them all with. “So, what? We supposed to tuck tail and run every time we see them? We gonna call them up before every job and ask em if they happen to be on the same gig first? We gonna politely decline if they are? Pathetic!”

Fred points to the man. No one moves a single inch, but the person is going to be in some serious shit after the gathering is over. They had better be the brother of one of the guys that was killed, or something. There’s a good chance no one will be seeing them again if not. He continues, but with a little bit of a retort.

“No. but first off, we’ll try to not hand them any more free little X’s from the likes of idiots such as yourself, who can’t learn to hold their fucking teeth shut when they’re supposed to!” He snaps at the man with an escalating intensity no one was expecting. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Gerald, who looks like he might jump down from the stage to kick the shit out of the next person who speaks out of turn.

“You want revenge. We all want revenge. And that’s what you’re gonna get.” The statement gets a small “here here” from some of the veteran guards up front, but not many. “Given that, it will be Gerald and I, alone, who’ll be going to Welan City to dole this out. We know how to take them down once and for all, and that’s how it’s going to be. I know you don’t like it right now, but you will when you see it happening on international news. Trust me.”

They aren’t going to even hint to anyone what their plans are. They know very well how word travels. They even refused to tell the commander. Nonetheless, he still had the confidence in them to hand over the funds for their expenses. As soon as they give the podium back to Fred, they walk off the stage and head right back to their quarters.

The first thing he and Gerald are going to do, is take off their stupid golden badges, and pitch them in the dirt on their way out. They have no plans on ever returning to the Lions Group, let alone this god-forsaken continent. It was a bad idea to go to the Lions in the first place, but they didn’t have many options. Fred was able to get them solid fake ID’s, worth a salary in themselves.

The second they fled Welan City, all of their accounts were frozen, and a warrant for their arrest was issued. All they have left now, is unfinished business. It’s time to take care of their problems rather than run from them. It’s time they take Welan city back from the rats and burn SSS out right along with them.

Since the media, and anyone who watches it, only has a maximum attention span of about two weeks, he figures they should be in the clear to come back without being noticed right away. So long as upper management isn’t still shamelessly trying to save face with the rat mobs, they shouldn’t have any problems getting reinstated. No one actually cares about the homeless beyond brief moments of public relations.

They were forced to defend themselves during that riot, and that’s simply not disputable. Besides, from what they’ve seen on the news lately, Welan City should be more than happy to have them back. Things have spiraled out of control in the streets. Hopefully they’ve learned their lesson from listening to screaming zealots. They should’ve stuck to the moratorium on media visibility, but someone wanted their damn ratings. Now, everyone is paying the price.

When it’s time for them to leave, Fred has a couple of the other guards drive them to the airport and drop them off. Again, they have little more than the clothes on their backs. At least this time, they have some damn money. The second they close the doors to the car and step up to the curbside check-in booth, a wave of excitement washes over him. They are going home, and they won’t have to deal with this dirty shithole of a place anymore.

He used to think the rats back home were bad, but even the homeless in Welan have it better off than most people here. Everything is trashy, and inconceivably dusty. He can feel it on his teeth, in his hair, and in his eyes. There’s never any escaping it. Every time he and Gerald take their boots off, their damn socks are brown. Something in the dirt makes their feet stink something awful too. One thing is for sure, it’s an easy place to be a criminal.

They find it funny how there’s such a massive airport in such a dumpy-ass place. The coastal city isn’t dense with high-rises anywhere like in Welan, but it stretches for one hundred miles inland, and damn near all the way down the entire coastline of the continent without much more than a dirt alley to break any of it up. They never really appreciated what they had until now. At least the rats back home have the decency to only come out at night, and keep their heads down. Thirty percent of the population being worthless is a hell of a lot better than fifty.

Not even a minute goes by before he starts noticing unsavory looks from nearly everyone around them, and that’s sugar coating it. They dressed American-casual for the flight, and it’s not going unnoticed. The only thing to compare it to, is a pack of coyotes waiting for a calf to drop. If they don’t keep their heads on a swivel, they might end up with a shiv in under their ribs. It won’t be long before they can forget about all this though.

While the two of them walk through the glass doors into the secure airport, he notices Gerald lift his arm up high, like he’s going to wave goodbye to someone. Every single one of the vagrants around them looks up when he hollers to them.

“See ya in hell you sun-baked shits!” Instead of a wave, he’s holding up his middle finger.

He is not amused with Gerald one bit. He stiff-arms his hand down and snaps at him. “You dumbshit! Guess what? Now you have to walk in front of me from now on, so some random shithole can’t stab your dumb ass in the back.”

When he sits down at their terminal to wait for the jet, Gerald heads off to take a piss. He considers accompanying him to the restroom, but the boarding crowd around them looks to be pretty mild. Only well-to-do folks typically make this kind of flight.

After a few minutes pass, he looks back around behind himself to the bathroom entrance. He’s pretty sure He didn’t miss Gerald. It shouldn't be taking him this long, no matter how many peppers he ate last night. The second he decides to get up and check on him, he comes walking on out with a funny look on his face. Things must’ve gotten pretty intense in there. He expects the janitor will be coming around some time now.

He sits right back down, props his leg over the other, and continues to read the paper. When plops down in the seat next to him, he lets out a deep breath, but comes off as being a little pensive. He’s waiting for something.

“You didn’t flush did you.”

His voice is pretty quiet this time, and he keeps his chin down when he answers. “Nope. Would need a knife and about an hour for that.”

His back stiffens, but he manages to keep his eyes from popping out the front of his face. He keeps his voice casual too, and doesn’t look up either. “All you had to do was wait fifteen more fucking minutes dude. Could you not help yourself?”

He doesn’t quite chuckle, but he’s still amused. “Someone’s already onto us.” He looks Cris in the eyes this time. “The guy came at me man. I don’t know why you always think I’m the one who always starts shit. Besides, it’ll be hours before anyone realizes what’s happened. He’s on the shitter with a… load in his pants. I didn’t leave a single mark on him. We’re gonna be fine. No one’s probably even gonna look into a loser like that anyway. Just looks like he had a bad day.”

He covers his eyes and tries to not laugh at the mental image of it. “Goddamnit man.”

In his seat on the plane, even long past boarding and taking off, his heart is still pounding. He has it fixed in his mind that the two of them will end up stuck in Africa for the rest of their miserable lives. About an hour after the coastline disappears, he and Gerald look out their windows again at the vast ocean stretching out as far as they can see. Somewhere down below them, is a sunken ship and the final resting place of forty of their comrades.

They were almost put on that ship themselves, but that was before anyone had any idea SSS would get involved. He wonders if the two of them might’ve ended up down there with the others if things had gone any different. They’d like to think they could’ve turned the tables, but they don’t really know what happened. There’s no dirty trick Sy’s guards won’t pull when they have to.

When they finally land in Welan City, it’s the middle of the night. They have no extra luggage with them, so they head right out to the curb to find a ride into town. Things definitely look worse since they left. There are bums hanging out everywhere they look now. They’ve never seen rats anywhere near the airport like this. There’s dozens of them, and they’re not even trying to be sneaky about it. He can’t imagine how it’s gotten to be like this. Normally, they’d be clubbed for simply being seen near here.

Gerald is bewildered too. He has the same look on his face. He knows better than to flip anyone off this time. Most of the rats are trying to not stare, and make it look like they aren’t all watching the two of them, but it’s quite obvious. They’re all here for the two of them. It’s all starting to feel like a bad idea, but deep down, he’s glad. He wants nothing more than a reason to start ridding Welan City of them again.

Welan city rats are a different breed than the ones in Africa though. They’re collected, sneaky, and they remember things longer than one day at a time. At least they don’t have that dangerous desperation that can suddenly come swinging out of nowhere in broad daylight. Still, they don’t like the looks of things at all. It gets them to toss their original plans right out the window, and escalate their schedule. They need to get to the precinct while they still can.

Instead of looking for a ride of their own, they approach an officer on the curbside and plainly turn themselves in. The officer knows very well who they are and doesn’t bother looking them up. Unsurprisingly, the man has a great amount of respect for the two of them, wanted or not. They were investigators, and that will never change. He doesn’t even bother cuffing them before walking them to his cruiser.

It’s a real quiet ride to the precinct. The officer takes them in through the back staging area of the building and up the elevators to the temporary holding rooms without ever checking them in through the front. It’s quite the coincidence when they’re put in the largest one, where they held Valerie and the others. The officer explains that he’ll do the paperwork himself, and submit it directly to the investigators office. He knows to keep their arrival as quiet as possible, and in the right hands. It makes him and Gerald feel really good about the brotherhood. At least the honor of it has survived.