"so tell me. Does that make me the devil... or an angel?"
_______
TW|| suicide, murder, rape, sexual assault.
(Does not romanticise any of these)
_______
His hazel dragon eyes were so painfully irresistible to her, and her emerald siren eyes were mo...
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Mateo
Blood has already dried up beneath my fingernails and my finger aches when it finally releases the trigger of my gun. I drop the axe that I had just used to bash a targets brains in, after dragging it down his spine when he tried getting away.
An exhilarated puff of air rushes out of my lungs, when the bloody axe clanks on the concrete, and my ear peace buzzes.
"Can you respond now for fucks sake, are you good?" Sam says through my ear, still waiting in the get away van behind the warehouse I drag my feet in.
I rip off the velcro from my gloves that have basically cut off my circulation at this point "All good".
There a static noise through a sigh "bloody hell everone else was getting back to me except you"
"that's because I was in my zone. Since when do I talk in the middle of a mission. Fucking hell i was driving an axe through a fuckers skull when you buzzed my piece" I groan, stretching out my shoulder as I glance around the area. A messy ratio of some of our men, and the enemy sides men scattered around the floors, covered in eachothers blood and brains.
"Two of ours are gone" I say, moving my fingers off the pulse of one of our men. took four bullets through the chest.
Sam cusses and makes an agitated sound before sighing into the mic, "what about the other seven". The others who gather their weapons answer Sam through their ear pieces as they wash off whatever blood they can off their hands with the loose hose at the end of the warehouse.
Sam tells me to get our men, including the eliminated ones, back to the vans so we can get back to the main house while it's still dark.
Another two weeks pass and the weather is starting to fit the summer season and now the sun rises earlier than it would in winter. Now, the sun often rises around 5:30am. I lift my sleeve to see the time round my wrist.
4:44am.
when we started the mission it was 2:30am.
38 fucking men. A single mission with 36 goddamn targets in the middle of the night, right when I was about to fall asleep. I use my forearm to wipe the pebbles of sweat from my forehead and fist bump the other men who were assigned this mission with me. We compliment eachother before getting into the vans and Sam updates dad through the phone.
"This little shit never seizes to surprise me" 27 year old Timmy grabs my shoulder and wobbles me after dropping his assault rifle beside him in the back of the van. I chuckle and wipe the sweat off my neck.
"How many'd he drop?" Sam asks from the front passenger seat.
"pfft I don't fucking know, but it was the majority"
"I recon close to 20" one of the man join, shaking his head in disbelief "the rest of us must of dropped three to five max. He moves too quick for fucks sake."
