Meeting of Chance

A Confession of Sorts

The ride was long and boring, filled with an awkward silence and Taina’s constant grumbling. Not a single word had been exchanged between them for the entire flight and the only times which the antisocial Brazilian had spoken was when offered food or drink. But nothing more had happened during the entire flight between the two of them except for that.

When they landed, they were almost instantly greeted by a member of BOPE who shook hands with them both, greeting Taina with such a big smile it had lead Meghan to believe that the two had worked together before. The woman introduced themselves as Maria Sosa, and that she worked in the covert divisions, her most successful role had been one similar to Dominic’s (Bandit) from the GSG9, spending time undercover in one of Rio’s small but growing gangs, gaining information on them and their operations, becoming the major factor in having ended its entire existence.

The safe house which they had been escorted too in an open top jeep wasn’t all that impressive, and not at all what Meghan had expected, looking exactly like any other house in Rio: battered, bruised, broken and brightly coloured. It served as the one of BOPE’s main safe houses in the Rio area, and had an impressive interior as well as a large stock of powerful weapons, ammunition and explosives.

“Welcome Rio. Your room’s down the corridor and to the left, first door on the right. It has a ‘DO NOT ENTER' sign on it,” Maria told them in a strongly Portuguese accent, falling onto a couch in the middle of the main room, her black hair covering most of her face as they pulled a cigarette out of their pocket and lit the end.

After she had been told where their room was, Taina groaned loudly, facepalming in an embarrassed manner. The sight made Meghan grin, but tried to make it seem that she didn’t really take much notice to her. She then made her way down to her room to set up the stuff she’d brought with her to Brazil. Just as the older woman had told her, down the corridor and to the left, first room on the right with the rather large sign on it.

The room itself was rather bland. It was painted a dim grey with a window on the wall farthest to the left in what she assumed was the kitchen area, a TV on the opposite wall with a single couch in front of it. Directly in front of Meghan were two doors, one slightly ajar letting the American see white tiles and a sink, so she presumed that it was the bathroom. The other was, therefore, her bedroom.

The entire room was one large mess, with clothes chucked in a pile, the window’s curtains were closed, and the lights weren’t on, both greatly improved the situation of not being able to see where everything was. There was a small section of the main room that had been devoted to what resembled a kitchen with a fridge, sink, chopping block, cooker, microwave, coffee maker, toaster, knives, and cupboards for pots, pans, and other utensils.

Turning on the light, the blonde saw that the room, in general, was dirty, clothes were scattered around and left lying in odd places, like off the back of the couch and on top of the TV. Why were they there? But that wasn’t Meghan’s question, her question was why did Maria tell her this was her room when it was obviously someone else’s?

 “Ay, coisa quente, move,” Caveira ordered in a rather annoyed tone, pushing past them and throwing her bag down beside the couch, flopping down and turning on a news channel in Portuguese without any English subtitles for Meghan to understand what the report was on about.

“Hold on, I thought Maria said this was my room?” Meghan asked, visibly confused. “Why are you in here? And why’s it so dirty?”

Taina looked over the back of the couch at her as though the blonde was brain dead. “She meant we’re sharing this room, which is my room, idiot.” Her answer was brief and filled with spite. “There should be some food in the fridge, pot noodles last I checked.”