𝘓𝘪𝘭 '𝘉𝘪𝘵 [ 𝘛𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘓. ]

𝖵𝖨𝖨. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗒𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾

Chapter VII. The anonymous call from the phone

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Disclaimer: Don't be an idiot & call the phone number stated in the text, it's a fake.

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As he walked me down from the cell block, keeping a close eye on me, we turned two corners before stopping to turn his expression towards me.

"So, what you need is your uniform, which I think you would be ok with." He told me. His left eye appears a bit glazed over, like he's tired.

"What is my uniform gonna look like?" I asked, wanting a pleasing answer.

"You'll see."

We stared to walk again for 15 minutes until we've reached the locker rooms. He gave me the location & code to my locker, since he can't walk into the women's room himself, that'd be utterly disturbing, in my opinion. I walk down the sections of the room until I found my locker, & opened it up to find my uniform; outer jacket is baggy, & black with red edges, sweater-like long sleeve shirt is grey, with black cargo pants that are loose at the knees, & black & red outline boots that go up halfway the calves. Luckily, there's a belt — chrome & black — with an implemented gun holder. A rifle sat up against the back wall, a Kel-Tec RFB, with a scope equipped on the top, & a burgundy color, still a shade of red.

"I'm starting to spite the color red at this point." I said, hoisting the gun onto my back.

I put on the uniform & the excess necessities on & looked in the mirror that was a couple of feet away from me.

"Why, DAMN! I look pretty good in this. Right size & style n' everything!" My thoughts complimented. "Who knew that they knew a sense of fashion."

I smiled to myself & walked out of the locker room minutes later. Red Leader's still standing by the door, smoking a cigar, the odor lingering the area.

"So, how d'you like it?" He asked me, puffing rings of smoke into the air.

"It's pretty nice." I responded to his question, looking down at myself before looking at his eyes, showing him some of my respect intentionally. "I thought mine was going to be like the others, but nope, quite different."

"Yeah, we have some standards..." he mutters the rest of the sentence, which I picked up very little. "Anywho, you have your first task." He pulls a file from inside of his coat & gave me a phone. The color red w/ black 'again.' 

"When will this red charade end?"

"Your task is to find these individuals," he points at the pictures, "& eliminate them, since they're trying to...rebel. Succeed, & you'll find out your next task later. You don't, expect hell amongst you when you get back."

"Hmm..." I hummed, looking at the three individuals, whom one I recognized is the guy plastered against the posters on the side of the street walls, Thomas Ridgewell. I've met with him a couple of times, but he's more of an alcoholic on certain days. "Alright, I'll see what I can do, sir."

"Så sett i gang." (Then get going.) He commanded, before walking off to wherever he needs to go.

"So, I'm being tasked to kill off these three. Damn, that's cold." I said to my conscience, feeling my face weighing myself down. "He don't know that I'm allies with them, 'yet.' Let's just hope he didn't do this to me to lead 'his' people to somewhere confidential or some shit."