The Worst In Me

11 - Sang

"So, what you're saying is the Academy wants me to lead the next assignment?"

"Yes," he nods. "I'm not very thrilled about it, as it is far too similar to the last assignment, and you're far too good of an agent to keep doing these kind of missions. But..." he trails off, his bushy gray brows furrowing.

"But we all know I'm the best shot we've got," I finish for him. He nods again.

"Exactly, but it's so demeaning. I don't want that for you."

"I'll be fine, Phil. I didn't do much with the men from last night's assignment. I was able to get out of it fairly easily, so I'm sure it won't be any different with this assignment," I insist, referring to the one he wants me to do this weekend. Or, more precisely, in two days, this Saturday.

"I have no doubt you will," he smiles like a proud father. "Now, let's see what we've got on this flash drive." He holds the flash drive I gave him in his hand, looking even more proud of me. I just smile weakly, feeling super guilty for basically no reason.

"Let's do it," I say. You have no reason to feel guilty, Sang. This was the assignment. These aren't good men. They're bad. Bad.

But what if I want to be bad, too?

I shake my head and make my way behind his desk to lean over his shoulder and watch his computer screen; he powers it on and plugs in the flash drive. All the files I'd copied are on it, lighting up the screen of Phil's desktop.

Here goes nothing, I think to myself. He clicks on the first file labeled Loose Ends. Strange title, I'd say. An image pops up. My mouth gapes as a gasp leaves it.

The image is dark, the only light coming from a dim overhanging light in the corner. The room the picture was taken in is much less of a room than it is a cage. Like, there are metal bars surrounding it and everything. In the center sits a chair, and sitting atop that chair is a man, his head hanging low and blood dripping from multiple places on his body. He looks like he's been beaten.

"Oh my God," I whisper. Phil says nothing as he clicks on to the next picture. This one isn't a picture at all. It's a video. He presses play.

"Where's the money, Damien?" a man growls from behind the camera. Yes, growls.

"I told you I don't know!" the man in the chair, Damien, shouts, seeming terrified. He's greeted with a punch to the jaw as the man from behind the camera stalks to the front. I instantly recognize him from the pictures in Corey's office. He's tall, maybe even an inch taller than Raven, and he's almost as big as the Russian, too.

In the drab lighting, I can just barely make out the dark shaved hair, strong build and even stronger jaw, and his dark eyes. Then, I notice the foreign accent in his voice when he speaks again. It's very deep and sounds Mediterranean, though I can't quite place where it's from.

"Don't lie. We saw the video of you smuggling the safe out of the warehouse. We know you took it, and if you don't tell us where... well, let's just say you'll be receiving more than just a beating."

"Silas is correct, Damien," another voice announces its presence, and out steps another from the shadows. Once again, the yellow, drab lighting doesn't give way to much of his features, but I still recognize him. I recognize the familiar reddish brown hair and and serious blue eyes. He's a tad bulkier than the Silas guy but at least four inches shorter. Still, though, that puts him at almost six feet tall, and that's staggering compared to my measly five-foot-one form. "If you don't tell us where the money is, we'll have to pull out some tools to help get you to talk."

"And you certainly won't like when we get out the pliers." Okay, now I know I've heard this voice before. But certainly, Kota would never—oh, he definitely would. I see him step out of the shadows, making him look almost devilish with the ones still lingering over his face, cloaking him in their darkness. But damn if he isn't sexy as hell. The other two guys, too. I'm so going to hell for even thinking that.

"W-what would you do with pliers?" Damian stutters like a child caught stealing candy. Except, he isn't a child and the candy was actually money. And he stole from criminals. Stupid.

"It's quite obvious, really," Kota answers, sounding bored, but even a blind man would be able to see the sadistic pleasure he's wearing on his face at whatever is swirling around in his twisted head. "I'd rip off each and every one of your nails, and after there were none left, I'd move onto your teeth. If you still didn't talk, then I guess it would be pretty fun to see what else we could tear off of your repulsive body. I think it would be quite entertaining to see someone try to speak without a tongue or teeth."

"N-no, please! We don't have to do any of that! I'll talk, okay! I swear!" Damian splutters, spit flying from his mouth as tears run down his face like a river.

"Such a shame," Kota tuts, moving so fast towards the man that I don't even see him until he has the man by his hair. He roughly tugs Damian's head back so that he's looking up into his eyes, begging for  mercy. "Talk."

The poor man opens his mouth to speak, but just as the words start to pour out of his lips, Phil's computer suddenly crashes and the screen goes black.

"What? No! Damn it, what happened?!" he shouts at the screen. I'm so shocked, I can't even speak for a moment. "They must've realized someone was looking at the files," he turns to me. "What are we supposed to do now, Sang? Now they know someone is onto them, and we'll never get a chance at these files again!"

I quickly shush him and look in the direction of the door, listening for little footsteps, hoping Phil's shouts didn't wake up Noah. I breathe a breath of relief when I hear nothing and turn back to the aging man sitting before me.

"I don't know, Phil," I answer him. "If we get our best hackers on it, we might be able to recover a few files. But other than that, I really don't know how they caught on."

I begin to grow very worried for myself and Noah. If they find out that I had anything to do with the hacked files, they'll for sure come after me, and who knows what would happen to Noah. Maybe they'd use him as leverage, or maybe they'd leave him out entirely. But if Noah doesn't have me, he'll have no family left to take care of him, and there's no way in hell I'd leave him with my mother. Sure, either Phil or Gina would be happy to take him in, but he'd still need his sister. He'd still need me. Fuck, I'm so screwed.

"You can't go on this assignment, Sang," Phil says, catching onto my train of thoughts.

"I have to," I say, trying to convince him and myself. "You and I both know I'm the best shot we've got to catching these guys. Besides, we don't know if they'll even realize that I was the one who managed to get ahold of the files. They could just think that someone hacked them. They'll have no reason to believe that I did it."

"But, Sa—"

"No, I have to do this. I have to stop them." And I silently decide that it's the truth. I have to stop them. I need to let this strange relationship I have with some of them go. It isn't healthy, it isn't safe, and it certainly isn't moral.

I'm doing this for Noah. I'm doing this for me. I'm doing this for any and everyone they've affected by selling and distributing JH-14. They're the bad guys, and I've dedicated my life to stopping bad guys—even the ones with Russian accents, cerulean blue eyes, black-framed glasses, eyes like fire, and a strong love for chocolate chip pancakes.
________________

Sorry this one is kind of short, but I've been working on a new book (because I'm weak and I couldn't get the idea out of my head). But I thought I'd go ahead and update this book, so you could have something to read while you're in quarantine.

I love you and stay safe,
Tori