Table of Contents
Who’s who again?
This arc’s previous chapter
*(more than a month ago, might want to read the last few lines or the refresher)
What people don’t get… and it’s frankly almost maddening… is that the bad guy almost never is just one person that announces the plan to the hero and ends up losing, like in Hollywood movies. Ideology doesn’t lose. Ideology sleeps. Look at the rise of neo-nazism and -fascism at the beginning of the twenty-first century. Look at Russia and the US during the 2020s. People who firmly believe in something know how to lay low. They don’t need words to understand each other. They put on a mask and play the role that’s expected of them. Shake the hands of the people in charge. Thoroughly wash them afterwards, in secret. Few things connect people like common experiences. Few common expierences connect people like loss. No loss is greater than seeing one’s almost unlimited power and wealth disappear. We faced a few risks, not knowing who pulled which strings, when, but ended up finding a balance between meticulous planning and a leap of faith, putting our trust in our common goals. Now, all we need to do is…
At that moment the door blew open, hitting Dr. Abad’s knee. As he fell to the ground, his scream of agony was interrupted by the bullet making its way through his cheekbone and out of the back of his head.
Luke could have sworn he saw embarrassment in the man’s last expression. Fucking narcissists caring more about how they appeared than the fact that they were leaving this world. Then again, Luke was sitting in underwear, tied to a chair, the next person waiting to be shot, his eyebrows raised and judging someone who just got killed right in front of his eyes. So yeah, cast the first stone and stuff.
The SWAT-like team turned its attention towards the prisoner.
Oh, it’s fucking Christmas, is it.
Luke’s eyebrows returned to a more humble position. The man pointing a rifle at Luke’s head didn’t look particularly sharp and confirmed the prejudice soon.
Tell me you speak English and you’re not one of them slavic motherfuckers who just look European.
Well? Was the Arab so dumb that he started with your tongue ?
I speak English.
Congratulations.
Luke expected to be hit with some questions. Something along the lines of why he was there, with some torture sprinkled in as intermezzo. This already made his testicles flinch, as they remembered that one time in Guadalajara. Well, testicle. Singular.
Instead, the only thing that hit him was the butt of the rifle.
Table of Contents
Who’s who again?