[PREQUEL] (W) ᴜɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ ♗

8 | Collect and dip

Leaning against concrete pillars that have held the burning infrastructure above, currently filled with older range medical personnel raiding the floor right above the basement, two more silhouettes entered the scene.

Was his car broken or something? Why did he stay this late? Why did he stay at all?

Was his plan to leave the premises once the last paramedic did? They do work for some branch under WEIA's name, and I imagine the reason why he's hiding is one of the reasons Yadiel wants his head.

Or maybe I was overthinking.

''The tacky tan Cheville SS 396 belongs to them, their license plate is as simple as a toddler's Ipod lock screen passcode,''Dominic makes the effort to inform me out of nowhere. I looked up at him.

We were leaning against the pillar, peaking our heads to the side in a two-man type spying formation

''Okay? I didn't ask for the exact model of the car. '' I nodded in the shitboxe's direction.

''You could have just that ugly ass car over there is theirs,'' I countered as his palm firmly grasped against my shoulder as if he were to rip my being from the pillar to throw me around the parking garage.

His voice, just below a whisper, sounds suddenly. Heat wavers from his mouth, it's hot. Not that type of hot but the type of hot breath when someone's breath smells absolutely rancid.

What were in the crackers he ate back at the house? Nuclear power plant fluid?

''Where's the fun in that—''

''Shut your corny ass up.'' I frown as the sound of the wife's high heels begin to sound closer and closer to four wheeler drive.

Her painted lips move, as the much shorter man on her arm glances up to witness her yap fest. Eyes sparkled in the same measure that the old lady had, where flames danced in her eyes and the rosary on her neck had caused red markings on the back of her neck from her grip on the pendant.

I remember it like it was a couple hours ago.

Which it was!

The smell of gunpowder had still lingered somewhere in the background. No matter how much apple cinnamon febreze they'd abuse to cover up the stench.

I think back to what Damien had revealed in the car.

The judge, his name now revealed to me as Benjamin, had been a soldier within the Japanese-Self defense force. His entry had been solely based on free education, but over the years it had morphed to more than that.

He owed a debt to a man who had direct relations to a blackstar circle. It pushed the man to retire his JSDF career early and work as a spy within the west for the silver empire's benefit.

As far as I know, he's been stacking up and keeping tabs on what went down west In order to report back to his bases, the men that pay him; east.

Our current plan at the moment was to cut his whole surveillance sap and bring him in WEIA custody. The details of what would happen to him would be a little hazy, but without a doubt gruesome.

If my grandfather was familiar with his name, studied his game and his face by memory?This Benjamin guy was as good as dead.

But orders are orders. And I wasn't one to cross that line until absolutely necessary.

Two and a half minutes goes by. The watch on Alderete's wrist vibrates. He's called into action.

On his own command, Dom straightens up his dark shirt, patting it just slightly before wiping whatever dirt there was on his shoulder down my back. I watch him walk in the direction of the couple as the sound of his footsteps bring their focus to him rather than the depleting sounds of log chairs being scraped against old carpet.