After dealing with the most annoying part of that mission, I headed to the van to retrieve a chair and little table I set up for myself and my laptop. I quickly opened PhotoStall and began preparing for the third and final part of our operation after the abductions and the executions.

  "What are you doing, Pedsi?" Cola-Coco asked.

  "Editing our footage," I replied. "And you can call me by my name now if you want, Andy."

  During their farewell, some of our stubborn hostages said things that shouldn't have been said. It amazed me how some people's logic worked. While some begged to be spared, which I could understand, others went as far as to beg to be avenged. It left me perplexed and made me question the sanity of some people.

  Like seriously, you were screwed from the beginning, I could understand begging for one’s life but come on asking to be avenged, that’s like literally asking for things to get worse than they already are.

  Like be a minimum mindful of others

  Anyway, to avoid making the situation messier than it already was, editing the footage was essential before sending it to our clients.

  As I was deeply engrossed in my video editing, Cola-Coco finished bagging the corpses and approached me with noticeable awkwardness in his demeanor.

  "Hey, Hassan," Andy began tentatively, "are you used to this kind of mission?"

  I didn't look up from my screen and replied with a nonchalant tone, "No."

  Andy seemed surprised by this response. He glanced at his trembling hand and then back at me, asking, "Then how were you able to do it so…casually?"

  I continued editing the video, my voice calm and disinterested. "Let's see... isn't this like the same as the usual man-hunting and bounty-hunting activities?" I muttered, as I reminisced about our few shared missions.

  "It's not," Andy replied vigorously, clearly disgusted at the mere comparison.

  Lifting my eyes from the laptop, I probed further, "How so?"

  "It's not the same, it's different..." Andy struggled to find the right words.

  I leaned back slightly in my chair, intrigued. "Which is why I'm asking, how so? We're paid to hunt and kill people in both cases."

  Andy hesitated for a moment, prompting me to answer for him. "Yes, but... let me guess? They're fighting back, so it's more honorable."

  He shyly nodded, his eyes downcast.

  I couldn't resist a mocking tone. "Oh, Andy, always the sensitive soul." My jest fell flat, and Andy retreated into a depressed corner.

  Trying to lift his spirits, I said, "Look, if it at least can make you feel better, what we've done here today will not only bring us a fortune, but it'll also bring peace to a stupid war that's been prolonged for far too long. Think of all the good stuff that’ll come with this, instead of focusing on the negative. That's how you do it."

  He was silent for a while then muttered, "perhaps you were really born for this."

  I raised an eyebrow. "And you’re not, perhaps?"

  He shook his head vehemently. "No, I'm not an unfeeling perfectionist."

  I shrugged with barely any reaction. "Rude. Then why are you doing this with me, if you're not a psycho yourself?"

  "I'm doing this... I'm doing this because I need money."

  "For your family?" I ventured as a guess.

  He nodded. "Yes, I want what's best for them, which is why I'm doing it. I doubt that's something you can understand."

  I leaned back in my chair, contemplating his words. "Not at all. I'm doing this for my family too."

  "You have a family?" Andy frowned.

  I chuckled. "Not yet, but once I'm wealthy enough, I plan to marry a 1.75m blonde woman who will give me four children: a boy and three girls. Two boys and two girls would be acceptable too, but no more than that."

  Andy gave me an incredulous look, but before he could respond, my phone rang, abruptly interrupting our conversation.

  Even though I stared at an unfamiliar number on my phone, I instantly recognized the caller. I exchanged a quick look with Andy before answering.

  "So, is it done?" an old, deep and familiar voice inquired from the other end.

  "Yes, it's done, Sir," I replied.

  "Any issues?"

  "No issues at all, Sir."

  "I see, as expected of you, Hassan, or should I say Pedsi?" he chuckled.

  "Either name works, Sir," I replied.

  He chuckled. "You say that, but I know how much being misnamed annoys you."

  "You know me well, Sir."

  "Of course, I didn't raise you for nothing. Anyway, I'm sure you're occupied, so I'll let you go. I'll be waiting for the footage."

  "I'll send it as I’m done wrapping everything up."

  "Good, I'll be eagerly awaiting it."

  With that, the call ended, and I couldn't help but recall Andy's earlier words, about him being born for such a lifestyle. The truth was, he genuinely thinks that no one is, not even him. It’s just that sometimes, you just find yourself thrust into it, and the best course of action is to accept it for what it is. Otherwise, it'll gradually consume you until there's nothing left.

  Yes, I'm an unarguably terrible person, and I'm okay with it. Despite the reprehensible nature of my line of work, there's occasional purpose in it, and it's a rather comfortable existence.

  With renewed determination, I edited the unnecessary part of the video, and soon enough, I finished. I sent it to the Master, who would then pass it on to our clients, putting an end to the ongoing hostilities between the two groups and our mission.

  I closed my laptop, a satisfied smile on my face from a job well done, and went to stow it in the van. Before heading to the back of the van to retrieve the shovels, I noticed something missing.

  "Andy, where's the other shovel?" I asked.

  "The other shovel? Wasn't it in the back, next to your bazooka?" Andy responded.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  "I only see one shovel," I complained, stepping out of the van and inviting him to check for himself.

  "Hmm, that's strange," he mumbled as he entered the van. "I'm pretty sure I put it in there."

  "Well, I only see one, so..."

  As Andy continued his search for the missing shovel, I suddenly heard a noise that made me back off. It was a sound like a car engine revving, which seemed out of place considering the ridiculous remoteness of this location. I furrowed my brow, realizing that it was indeed the sound of a motor.

  At that moment, the source of the noise came into view as a black Cadillac with tinted windows appeared on the dusty mountainous road. The car came to a halt several dozen meters away from us, and for a moment, it felt like a tense standoff was about to unfold.

  "Andy," I called out, my hand reaching for my handgun, signaling to Andy that trouble was on the horizon.

  "Mm?" Andy replied, still preoccupied with searching for the missing shovel inside the van.

  "I think we've got a problem," I muttered lowly.

  Suddenly, men emerged from the black Cadillac, brandishing guns.

  "What the—"

  The sound of rapid gunfire, "papapapa," filled the air, and I instinctively took cover.

  "Crouch! We're under attack," I shouted to Andy as I tried to assess the situation and formulate a plan to survive this unexpected threat.

  Amidst the chaos of bullets flying and the Cadillac's occupants taking cover, we somehow managed to avoid getting hit by the initial salvo. As the gunfire momentarily came to a halt, I turned to Andy, alias Andy, and asked, "Alive?"

  "I'm fine," he replied, but as he crawled out of the van, it became evident that he was not unscathed. Blood trickled down from his ear, apparently grazed by a bullet. He retrieved an assault rifle from a stash in the back of the van and tossed it over to me before grabbing one for himself. "What the hell is going on?"

  We both retaliated with shots toward the direction of the Cadillac, causing the men to take cover behind their vehicle.

  "I was asking myself the same question," I replied, continuing to fire. The men behind the Cadillac returned sporadic gunfire, but the real shock came when a second Cadillac appeared, soon followed by a third, parking beside the first.

  “Tsk!”

  "What the fuck?" Andy muttered.

  More heavily armed men poured out of the Cadillacs, and Andy and I were forced to seek cover.

  "What the hell is going on?" Andy whined, frustration mounting.

  "This isn't supposed to happen," I muttered, agitated as rarely as I've ever been.

  "I guess not all things go according to your plan," Andy retorted.

  "Are you trying to pick a fight with me in the middle of all this?" I shot back, unable to restrain my irritation.

  "Nope, I was just pointing out the obvious," he calmly replied. Andy reached inside the van, retrieving something that left me stunned. "Can I use this big boy?" he asked with a maniacal smile.

  Upon hearing his question, I bit my lip, then reluctantly nodded. "I didn't plan on using it today, but... tsk, do it."

  "Yessir," Andy declared, exchanging his assault rifle for the massive bazooka.

  The situation had escalated beyond anything we had anticipated, and it was clear that drastic measures were now necessary to survive.

  Andy hefted the bazooka onto his shoulder, a fierce determination in his eyes. With a wicked grin, he muttered, "Time to make some noise," before coming out of cover and unleashing the massive weapon.

  The rocket roared to life with a deafening whoosh, leaving a trail of smoke and fire in its wake. It streaked across the distance and struck the lead Cadillac dead center with an earth-shattering explosion. The force of the blast sent shockwaves rippling through the air, flipping the cars over in a fiery burst of metal and flames.

  Most of the men who had been surrounding the Cadillac were instantly incinerated; the surviving ones letting out screams, cries, and groans were silenced in an instant, and while they survived, the explosion left the miserable wounded, if not, at best, heavily disoriented.

  Wasting no time, I took advantage of the chaos and resumed gunfire, picking off the remaining assailants who stood disoriented within sight.

  With the few survivors of the attack still groaning and writhing in pain, I fired a few shots in their direction, creating cover fire to give Andy a chance to get behind the wheel of the van.

  "Get behind the wheel! We're leaving!"

  Andy, swift to react, crawled over to the driver's seat. He glanced back at the carnage and then at me, his eyes filled with concern.

  "What about the bodies we were supposed to bury? Are we leaving them here?"

  I fired another round towards the surviving attackers to keep them at bay. "Things have gone south, and they can only get further south from here.Hit the gas and get us out of here. We'll worry about this mess later." I shouted, my patience running thin.

  There was so much more I wanted to say to vent my frustration, but for now, I needed to focus on the immediate threat. I continued to fire at the survivors, making sure they stayed down.

  In no time, Andy got the van started. He turned it around and picked me up as I scrambled into the back, and we sped down the road that the Cadillac had taken, desperate to put as much distance as possible between us and the chaos we had unwittingly stumbled into.

  As we passed by the wrecked Cadillac, several bullets were fired in our direction, but miraculously, none found their mark, and we made it through safely. The adrenaline that had initially kept Andy seemingly nonchalant about the situation had begun to wear off, and his voice trembled as he finally voiced his thoughts.

  "What the hell was that?!"

  I stared out the window, my mind racing. "Don't ask me. I have no answer to that question."

  "These guys were..." Andy's voice trailed off as he struggled to find the right words.

  "So you've noticed as well," I replied, confirming his thoughts.

  Andy nodded, his lips pressed together in a tight line. The realization had hit us both—our attackers were no ordinary assaillants.

  "Blackcrowns," I said, naming one of the groups that had initially hired us for this job.

  At that moment, I reached for my phone to make a call. This situation was far from what we had expected. We were not prepared for this level of violence. I certainly hadn't planned on getting shot at today. I was about to dial the number when I suddenly came to a halt, my brow furrowing as I saw two more Cadillacs approaching us on the road ahead.

  As the two Cadillacs sped toward us with a clear intent to crash into our van, Andy's reflexes kicked in with lightning-fast precision. "Oh shit!" he exclaimed, and with a deft maneuver, he swerved our van out of the path of the oncoming vehicles.

  The van careened wildly, zigzagging across the narrow mountain road as Andy fought to regain control. I held onto the seat and dashboard, my knuckles white from the tension, praying to a god I didn’t even believe in that we wouldn't plunge off the mountainside.

  After what felt like an eternity, Andy managed to stabilize the van, and we continued hurtling down the winding road, the two Cadillacs falling behind. As I checked them through the side-mirror, a surge of frustration and anger coursed through me.

  "Damn it!" I cursed under my breath, my adrenaline pumping.

  I knew we weren’t just going to outrun these bastards. We had to fight back. I rushed to the back of the van, grabbing one of the assault rifles that lay there, and opened one of the rear doors.

  With the wind whipping around me, I braced myself and opened fire at the two Cadillacs still coming at us. Sharp staccato of gunshots rang out, echoing through the mountainous terrain as I tried to fend off our pursuers.

  As I continued to fire at one of the Cadillacs, my shots found their mark, causing the vehicle to veer off the road and crash into a rocky outcrop. It didn’t burst into flames like in movies, but nonetheless I felt an unrestrained surge of satisfaction.

  “Yes!!! Die! Fuckers!!!”

  However, much to my annoyance the second Cadillac persisted, and the people inside began sticking their heads out, firing wildly at me from their moving vehicle. I desperately tried to return fire, but it wasn't long before I realized that my magazine was empty.

  I quickly took cover on the other door that I had yet to open, cursing under my breath. Just as I was about to reload, my eyes fell upon a box in an upper compartment at the back of the van. Remembering its contents, the smile that had momentarily vanished at the sight of the other cadillac persisting reappeared on my face.

  Swiftly, I retrieved the box and opened it, revealing grenades. The thought of revealing myself to throw a grenade sounded too risky, so I pulled the pin and after a moment let go. I repeated the process till it achieved what the outcome I was looking for. After 6 loosed grenades, I noticed one exploding stronger than the other. I took a cautious peek just in time to witness the second Cadillac erupt into flames and skid to a halt.

  Relieved that we had lost our immediate pursuers, I sighed in relief and began to move toward the front part of the van, but my heart sank as I saw what lay ahead on the road.

  A massive barricade had been set up, consisting of a large truck blocking the road, surrounded by several Cadillacs and heavily armed men.

  “Good god!”

  Without hesitation, they opened fire on us, bullets tearing into our van.

  Bullets tore through the air, shattering metal and glass as Andy and I ducked, exchanging panicked glances. The van swerved wildly under Andy’s frantic grip, the ruined wheel dragging us off course. The road beneath us crumbled where the gunfire had struck, and with a sickening lurch, the van skidded sideways. Tires screeched against loose gravel, but it was too late—momentum carried us over the edge. For a brief, weightless moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Then, gravity took hold, and we plummeted into the abyss below.