Black Butterfly

Chapter 40

The compound was abuzz with energy. We had been preparing for this for months but with it sprung into action without warning, the energy was tinged with restless anxiety. Multiple people were on the phone, others typing away at keyboards and most of them strapping guns, weapons, and protection onto their bodies. It looked like we were going to war. 

I suppose we were. 

"Calsy, go find Criss. He'll get you equipped with what you need." Nick points to the left and walks off, presumably to get suited up himself. 

I start to a small group of boys around my age, each one a touch familiar to me, some standing and some sitting on a nearby bench and ask, "Which one of you is Criss?" 

A tall, muscly figure stands up and I'm taken aback; I know him but from where I don't know. Then my eyes go to his hair. Curly. 

Curly. 

He sticks out a hand. "Nice to see you in one piece Calsy. We haven't been formally introduced, I'm Criss." 

I hadn't expected to ever see his face again. Images of him cutting away ropes around my ankles and taking tape off my mouth filled my mind. 

"Ma'am, I'm just trying to help."  His voice was the same. 

I take his hand and shake it, hoping I didn't just make it awkward. "I don't think I ever got to thank you for saving me." 

Criss beamed at me with that white smile. "All in a days work, ma'am." He put his hands on his hips, "So, Nick sent you over for some gear?" 

I nod and he gestures for me to follow him down a nearby hallway. Criss' steps were heavy and assured, a man with confidence. His head was held high and just walking near him made my own chin rise. We stop in front of a steel door with a small keypad embedded in the wall next to it, and Criss hits a few keys before the door hisses and swings open. 

Guns of all shapes an sizes line the walls and two thin tables sit on opposite sides of the room. 

"Whoa," I breathe. 

I can see Criss grin out of the corner of my eye as he says, "I did the same thing my first time in here." 

Small hand guns, medium shotguns and massive machine guns hang from hooks and one of the tables was covered in bullet proof vests and gun holsters. Lights illuminated objects on the other table and I took a meager step towards them. Small disks, something that looked like a pen, radios, and a few more stick like gadgets. Criss walked to the wall with the small hand guns and started picking them off the wall, checking if they were loaded or not. 

"Be careful with those, some of them could blow this entire place to ruin." He advises, I swallow. 

He walks over to me, "That small disk is a tracking device, but can self destruct if needed." He points to a group of pens with a pink stripe around the cap, "Those can transmit a liquid version of belladonna from the tip of the pen. The ones with yellow," Criss gestures, "carry thin blades." 

"What about the red stripes?" I ask.

"Those, kill the person using them." Criss takes a breath. "We send them with soldiers who might not make it back, in case they're captured." 

A shiver crawls through me. Criss turns back to the wall of weapons taking some guns off the wall, "I think you should carry at least two." 

"Two?" 

"Even numbers are best." He hands me the guns and the holsters, and even though my hands tremble, I manage to strap both to my upper thighs. 

"Nice." Criss acknowledges and hands me a vest. When I struggle with it he lends a hand, tightening and loosening the armor in the right spots. "We'd die for him, you know." He says quietly. 

"What?" 

"The King and Ace rescued a lot of us off the streets or out of bad situations. They may be future gang leaders, but they're good men at heart." When he's finished he steps back and nods and leads me out of the room. We find Nick and Ivy standing near the cots, they look deep in conversation and Criss stops a few feet away to give them privacy until their done. Nick looks up and gestures us over.

"Thank you, Criss." He nods and Criss pounds a fist over his heart and walks off. "Calsy, you ready?" 

Am I? My stomach is in knots and my palms are sweating. I'm sure I've created the headache forming in in brain. My legs were weak and my breath was coming in short gasps. 

Am I ready? What if Mason is moved or already dead? Am I ready to see the pitfalls of Masons life? Am I ready to deal with the emotions that could come with any outcome? What if we rescue Mason and he never wants to see me again? Will he hate me when this is over? Will I hate myself? 

I take a breath and nod, "I'm ready." 

And I meant it. No matter the outcome, I've come so far and I was not about to let my fear stop me. Mason didn't deserve to be held like an animal, didn't deserve to be taken as barter. Even if he did hate me after this, if I didn't go I'd hate myself for the rest of my life. And if he never wanted to see me again, I'd honor his wish. I'd move on. 

I just hope I wouldn't have too. 

Nick puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes faintly, trying to give me a reassured smile. Ivy crosses he arms and nods at me. 

Nick leads us out to a large garage hidden in the back. Large, army like vehicles are all lined up in rows, soldiers stationed in front of every single one. We walk up to the fourth car in the line up and Ivy turns to the assembled mass. 

"We have let this infection fester for too long," the room is deathly quiet as she speaks. "We were kind and let them believe we were not strong enough. Tonight, we show them the opposite." 

"Tonight we strike harder and faster than them. We fight viciously and with anger in our blood. Tonight we fight for what is ours. In loss, there is death,

"But in victory there is none!" The reply is a deafening roar, and I find myself shouting the words with everyone else. 

Ivy lifts her head,

"Let's go kill some bastards."