Two sides of the same coin - Armando Aretas x OC

Two grown men play fighting

Night had arrived in Miami, cloaking the docks in an eerie stillness broken only by the lapping of waves against weathered pilings. The AMMO team members, led by Rita, crouched behind shipping containers, their breaths shallow. The humid air carried the tang of salt as they awaited their cue.

Mike and Marcus, positioned themselves strategically trying to not make a sound. Armando and Rafe's eyes scanned the dimly lit expanse.

Suddenly, headlights pierced the darkness as a convoy of trucks rumbled toward the docks. The AMMO team stayed vigilant, fingers hovering over their weapons.

Rita's voice crackled over the comms, her instructions clear and unwavering. "Stand by. Wait for my signal."

"Man I should've stayed retired" Marcus complained, "Marcus, shut up" Mike groaned. "how did I let you drag me into this shit again", "next time Marcus stays in the van" mike says over the comms, "man shut up Im not sitting in no damn truck". The two continued to bicker back and forth until their teammates shouted over the comms for them to shut up.

As the trucks came to a stop, shadowy figures emerged, moving with the practiced efficiency of seasoned criminals. The men opened up the shipping containers revealing towers of crates, which they began offloading with precision.

Armando's jaw clenched as memories of his former life threatened to surface. He focused on the mission, determined to not let his past distract him.

"Give me back my damn gun," Marcus whispered fiercely at Mike, who had snatched it and was dangling it out of his reach.

"No, you are unsafe with this shit" Mike retorted, teasingly keeping it just out of Marcus's grasp.

Their banter escalated into a tussle, the gun swinging precariously between them. Marcus lunged, managing to knock it from Mike's grip. It hit the ground with a loud bang, startling everyone within earshot.

Over the comms, tension crackled. "Ahh shit Marcus! Look what you've done now," Mike sighed, frustration evident in his voice.

In a synchronised rush, AMMO operatives surged forward, weapons drawn and adrenaline pumping.

Gunfire erupted as the traffickers realised they were busted. Bullets ricocheted off metal containers, punctuating the air with sharp cracks. The AMMO team moved with practiced efficiency, taking cover and returning fire with accuracy.

Armando slid into position, his training kicking in as he focused on disarming the targets.

Minutes stretched into eternity as the firefight intensified. The docks became a battleground bathed in flickering lights and shadows

Finally, the last of the traffickers were subdued, their weapons seized as evidence against them. The dock fell silent once more, the only sounds the ragged breaths of the team and the distant wail of approaching sirens.

Marcus approached Armando, "You did good out there, kid."

"No thanks to you, your dumbass could've got us all killed" Mike joked as he pushed on Marcus back. "Quit playing with me Mike, don't touch my shit" Marcus said.

"Oh yeah, or what bitch ass" he said snatching taking the gun again and the two reigniting their childish scuffle.

"Ey cut that shit out, you almost cost us, I aint going back to jail because of your stupidity" Armando grunted in frustration, "Ay, Dios mío, are they always like this" Armando said to Dorn who just nodded.