The Dark Side of the Moon

Chapter 26: Tommy

-Tommy’s P.O.V-

“Whoa, we’re halfway there. Wo-oh! Living on a prayer! Take my hand and we’ll make it I swear...”

“Shut up Scott, for the third time!” I growled out at the boy. He was sitting opposite me inside the van and enthusiastically bobbing his head to the rock song, unaware of the irritated glares that the rest of us kept throwing at him.

“Hey, it’s Bon Jovi man. Lighten up,” he flung his caramel coloured hair about in a head banging fashion and played the air guitar. Honestly, I was still trying to figure out why this guy was picked for the job.

“Lighten up? I don’t need to lighten up, we’re on our way to kill someone you idiot,” Grant snarled from beside me. Grant was another agent of the business, but he usually worked with another group specialized in more... brutal ways of eliminating targets. His hair was dark brown and his eyes a dull green colour. He had the natural tan of a boy from California and would have been a model, save for his strange interest for weapons and death. Really, the kid was as emotionless and professional as you could get.

That shut Scott up, and he nodded stiffly and turned to stare at the plain white interior of the rental van. Up front and driving was Vladimir, as silent as ever. Not once had he uttered a word and as far as I could tell, hadn’t moved an inch. I really was stuck with the best team for this mission...

The van lacked any windows, just in case somebody got too close to look in and see that we had enough weapons to shoot a Hollywood action movie and in the near future, the body of a target we were to capture. Even though it was impossible to see outside, I could almost picture the common, foreboding pine trees that lined every square inch of the forest on either side of the road. Gravel crunched under the rubber car tyres and the sound was relaxing and repetitive.

Our destination: a remote town in the Alberta Mountains, Canada. The place was called Banff; a cosy town nestled beside a nature reserve and protectively sheltered with dense forests on all sides. The car ride was at least three hours from the nearest town, and we were all growing tired and less excited by the second. As usual, our instructions had been delivered over the phone, by an untraceable number. This was the norm, as our boss took the utmost care to make sure that none of the employees knew any details about him or her. This meant that if any of us were captured, tortured or imprisoned by the government then we couldn’t talk or reveal any classified information.

Our mission was to locate a target that was supposedly living in the nature reserve beside the town, in its mutated form otherwise known as ‘animal shape’- all of the agents preferred to refer to the human as a ‘mutant’ or ‘animal’ simply because it made them think that what they were doing was an act of good and not evil.

The van’s engine spluttered to a stop that signalled our arrival. Tense with anticipation, everyone in the van moved swiftly and loaded a handgun, tucking them in a holster by the hip. Vladimir hauled the back doors open and dim light from the overcast day streamed into the confined space, illuminating the many black bags that were stored at our feet. Grant unzipped one and grinned, running his fingers along the edge of a finely sharpened hunting knife with love and care. After that, he pocketed several other knives of varying sizes and expertly twisted one around his finger, waiting for us to choose our weapons. Vladimir pulled out a hefty sniper rifle that came equipped with a scope and silencer, leaning it somewhat casually against his shoulder. The huge piece of metal was midnight black with a comfortable grip on the handle and sleek curves for the barrel of the gun, which Vladimir was presently admiring. After much deliberation, I selected a dart gun that was of moderate size. If the rumours about this beast’s size were true, I’d need much more than a horse tranquilizer to send it to hell, but a few shots would do the trick. Scott was last to pick a weapon and he gazed surprisingly at all the artillery laid before his eyes. Vladimir grunted impatiently at him and he hurriedly picked up another standard hand gun, growing paler by the second.