Ruins (Five Hargreeves)

Seven - Care

October 2nd 1984
Mission No. Unknown
Mission No. With Five. 34

JAY KNEW SHE DIDN'T CARE ABOUT THE RIGHT THINGS. She cared about getting her wrinkles under control, she cared about looking presentable, she cared that she didn't look too presentable to feel disloyal to a man long dead. She cared about stupid debts and favours. She cared about keeping a steady supply of alcohol and nicotine in her system. She did not, however, care about the gun pressed to her neck.

Jay's face hardly moved. Her eyes narrowed to a dull look, her lips settled into a dull frown, her shoulders sagged in annoyance. She turned her gaze to her attacker.

He was stood on her right. He was anywhere in his late teens or early twenties. He wore a black balaclava that looked more like a beanie he'd taken a pair of scissors to. He wore a black hoodie, black sweatpants, black gloves and new, clean, bright white Nike trainers. He held the gun with both slightly shaking hands.

Jay looked him the eyes again, raising an eyebrow slightly. "You know a gun goes to the head, right? And a kinfe to the throat."

He stammered, clearly not expecting that response. Jay waited patiently for him, slipping her hands into her pockets.

"Who are you?" He finally got out. "You a cop?"

"Have you ever seen a cop dress as amazing as this?" Jay asked, gesturing to her suit.

The boy shrugged. "Dunno. They do in the movies sometimes." He muttered.

Jay stopped watching the movies in 1941, when they were still in black and white and only just figured out sound, so decided not to comment on the movies this boy was talking about, the ones created in 1984.

"I'm not a cop." She said. The boy sighed slightly, arms relaxing slightly and grip on the gun losening.

"But you're gonna wish I am." She added with a shrug.

"Why?" He asked, confused.

"Because cops are typically punished for killing, and so try to avoid it. I however, am encouraged to."

Before he could move, speak or realise, Jay had gripped his wrist. She yanked the gun from his hand, carful to avoid the trigger, and tossed it behind her. She heard it skid across the concrete floor.

The boy gasped and chased after it. Jay let go of his arm and let him run in front of her. As he passed she grabbed his chin and forehead, yanking her arms in opposite directions. His neck went with a loud crack.

He dropped dead instantly. Jay, careful to remember this was a stealth mission, grabbed his body before he could hit the ground. She lifted him up and wandered off, looking for a place to put him.

It was the dead of night, and cold. The warehouse she was at was on the outskirts of the city, surrounded only by more werehouses and a few scrapyards. Stray boxes and shipping containers were everywhere, so it didn't take long to find a dark corner where the boy wouldn't be seen. She set him down carefully and headed back to the large double doors she was meant to be stood at.

Five was waiting for her, but she didn't care. He had his full suit and hat on, and held his sniper in one hand by his side. He saw her walk over and scowled that she had wandered off. He spyed the gun on the ground, Jay's slight smirk, and instantly knew what she'd done.

"Anyone see you?" He asked once she was at his side.

Jay shook her head. "He was the only lookout. Hid him over there. What's the situation?"

"Our guy's tied up in the centre of the room. Five guys on the ground floor, one's talking to him. Four on the balcony, one in each corner. All doors are locked and most are boarded up." Five said. He'd scouted the place out from the roof while Jay dealt with the boy.