Contract Killers (Multiship)

Chapter 27 - Motivation Required

The picture that you see above is a radio that is called a Console Stereo. This radio will be mentioned in the chapter later.

Nightmare's POV

We were talking when I received a text.

Text: Joku, we need you and your group to come to the camp as soon as possible. There might be a terrorist group forming.

I couldn't believe the words that I read. The military wanted us back? All because there might be a group of people trying to destroy the government. Now that I say that to myself, that sounds really bad. I started thinking to myself.

'My men aren't trained for war, we're trained for silent kills. Yes we have knowledge of using guns, but we never use them, except for Ink.'

I sighed to myself. It being noticed by Ink.

Ink: What's wrong?

Me: If I was going to tell you, we would have to do it in private.

Ink: Alright.

We walked down the second floor hallway. Turning to our left, we were met with two sliding doors. I opened it and let Ink walk in first. Harshly closing the door behind me, I turned to him. The room that we were in was a drawing room. Leather chairs were set in a misshapen circle with a coffee table in the middle. To my left was a bar filled with liquor and a console stereo from the 1970s. It took awhile to find that beauty.

Me: We have a problem on our hands.

He looked at me with an alarmed expression, as well a confused one.

Ink: What do you mean?

I rubbed my hand against my substance covered face. Gently sighing, I couldn't bare to look at him. The hardwood floor seemed more exciting at the moment.

Me: The military wants us to go back.

He stayed silent. I couldn't see his face but I could tell he was shocked and mostly.... scared. Memories were going through his head. We may have gotten the job we wanted, but we lost a lot of friends and allies along the way. Some of us even have slight PTSD from it.

Ink: They expect us to return to that place and think that we can handle it well? I had to watch some of my allies get killed in front of me on the missions that we did. I don't want to see that place again.

He started breathing heavily. I gently embraced him and set him down in a chair. To calm him down, I turned on the radio and poured hardcore whiskey into two glasses. I gave one to him. He took a tiny sip while staring at the floor.

Me: Are you okay now?

Ink: ..... yeah.

Me: Good. Now, how do we approach this situation?

Ink: I don't know. Most of me is saying no because I don't want to risk losing the lives of any one of my friends. What do you say?

I pondered for a second.

Me: You know, the government has been good about doing things themselves lately. I don't think that they really need us. I'll text back that we will not be coming.

Ink: But don't you think it's kind of... bad? Not taking the opportunity to save the country. ...... I want to go back and help, even if it means that I have to deal with my past.

Me: Ink, we are assassins, not soldiers. We were never trained to risk our lives for several others, only ourselves. So they wouldn't gain anything from us by helping them anyway.