Troop 410

Chapter 1

    "Dammit!"

    I winced as Markus smashed his fingers for what had to be the third time. It couldn't be that hard to put up a tent, then again, I had drawn better luck and had the honor of cooking our meal tonight. All we had brought was a few days worth of beans and franks and a few cans of soup, so our options were rather limited. Nevertheless, I was definitely luckier than Markus and Winston, who both had to set up our tents. Hopefully the heat would die down in a few days and we could return back to the city, cash in tow. Worst case scenario, we bury the cash and come back for it later. But it wasn't likely the cops would come looking in some out-of-town, backwoods forest. 

    The woods was obviously not often used for camping. No roads lead in or out of it, and we hadn't spotted any trails on our way in. We had parked our car in a nearby ditch, obscuring it with nearby shrubs before making our way into the dense woods. Twisted, gnarled roots ran this way and that, nearly covering the forest floor. Shrieks and cries of distant animals and birds welcomed us as we found a spot  clear enough of roots to set our tents. Immediately the group had gone to work, Butch and myself setting up the campfire and gathering sticks and twigs, while the others set about setting up the tents and unpacking our supplies.

    The heist had been easy enough. A diversion had been set up across town, a fake bomb scare. That had made it easy enough to bust in, grab the cash, and make a clean getaway. The bank manager had given us a little trouble, but the muzzle of a gun pressed to the temple of one of his employees and the old man graciously let us into the vault. Then it was a swift clear, and we were on our way out of town. The cops didn't even have time to track us down before we were across the bridge and out. 

    There were five of us in total. Markus was still just a kid, nineteen and trying to support his dying mother any way he could. He was skinny enough that his muscles seemed well defined by comparison, though his brains weren't quite up to task. But he was a sweet kid, a good kid. Then there was Winston, a hard-ass by nature. Intimidating by his size alone, not to mention the glower that nearly never left his face. He could spin quite a story, then drink you under the table. He wouldn't be your friend, but he was a valuable asset and co-worker. No one knew what he was in this for, but we didn't question Winston. Next was Dennis, an ex-military trying to get a new life together after the loss of his family. Stable head on his shoulders, though sometimes I felt as though he was just doing this as some sort of mid-life crisis. But weren't we all, really? Ty and myself, included. Now, Ty, I don't know how this demolitions expert ex-con was still in one piece, well, minus a few fingers. Ty was the only one of these men whom I would have trusted with my life. The others might have saved me if it were for a mission or a reward of some type, but Tyson was the type of man truly compassionate about his fellow comrades. Never forgot to get gifts for Winston's kids whenever we went out of town, always bought nice jewelry or gifts for his wife. Even made sure to get us a little something on our birthdays. 

    Last but not least, there was me. Just some country boy trying to make it in a big city, and failing miserably. I was down on my luck, about to be evicted from my shitty apartment when Harry Brewster happened upon me. Harry was looking for some muscle for a job, and I had spent my life lifting heavy farm equipment... you do the math. I kept on with him as simple muscle, and eventually our little crew came together, making the city our bitch as the cops turned a blind eye to most of our workings. Admittedly, the bank heist was a little last minute and the pigs had recently hired some newbies that thought they could 'turn this city around', so keeping a low profile for a bit wasn't a bad idea. So that's why we were out camping in the god forsaken middle of some long forgotten forest. 

                                                   If only I could forget it, too.