Hero

SERGEI

               It began to rain hard. The car that retrieved Rodriguez for me had finally arrived after what seemed like forever. They exited the car and carried Rodriguez out of the backseat. He was still unconscious. I looked at my watch.

               "You're eight seconds late," I said, "Our people do not like mistakes."

               "I'm sorry, sir," the agent apologized, "It won't happen again," he showed Rodriguez to me. "He's in really bad shape," he told me, "He's in worse shape than we expected. He saved his family first." Dumbass, what did you expect him to do? Save himself?

               I sighed and examined Rodriguez's condition. His limbs were intact, but some of them looked broken. There was blood flowing from his head from glass shards, and overall, he was practically covered in blood. He was filthy. I continued to stare at him.

               "Will he..." I paused, growling at the agent, "...live?"

               "You want him to live?" he raised an eyebrow.

               "Of course... It wouldn't make any sense to bring a dead body back to THQ, would it? Besides," I turned around quickly to go back into the building. "I had orders to keep them alive, even though I want both to die so desperately. Even so..." I turned back to the agent. "You were late, and our people don't like mistakes." I glared at him angrily.

               "Are you going to kill me?" he asked in fear. I glared at him for a few more seconds.

               "I had no instructions concerning you," I said finally, walking into the building. "Answer my question already. Will he live or not?"

               "Y-yes sir!" he answered, "He'll live. We just need all the proper medical appliances–"

               "Do what you need to."
               When Rodriguez had finally been treated, I had a look at him. His right arm and left leg were broken. He had bandages wrapped around his body and his head from the glass shards. He was also in a coma.

               "You look like you're in a lot of pain," I told him. I took out a knife and put it up to his throat. "Can I end your misery for you?"

               All of a sudden, before I could do anything to Rodriguez, Misha walked into the room. The second-in-command of the RIA and punisher of the disobedient. He looked at Rodriguez, me, and the knife I was holding.

               "I'm glad I came when I did," he gave me a stern look.

               "Oh, it's just you, Misha," I said, moving the knife closer to Rodriguez's neck. "I thought you were Mara, coming to scold me about ending her hard work tending to this nuisance."

               "Dammit, Sergei," he exclaimed, "I'm second in command in the RIA, and you still treat me like a dirty, disgusting rag lying on a homeless man's back on the side of the street!"

               "That was oddly specific, but I was joking," I cleared my throat. "I just don't know how he ended up choosing someone like you to be in charge, anyway."

               "Bastard–"

               An agent entered the room.

               "Sir," he approached, "Mr. Moralés has an indestructible phone case. It's still traceable–"

               "Traceable?" I snatched the phone from him.

               "Yes," he answered, "We should dispose of it."

               "No. We can use this to attract the other brother," I planned.

               "So, I can trust you not to kill Rodriguez?" asked Misha, crossing his arms.

               "Don't worry," I assured him, "I'll make sure he has a pulse."