The sound of ducks could be heard not far off and the wind itself made a shuffling sound against the trees, which sat no further than twenty feet away. The water slowly came to and fro, leaving only to return again, seemingly gathering more steam each time, only to later calm. And, as he slowly faded into a dream, he could feel the wind dancing on his face, brushing through his hair and even warming his shaken body. As though it knew what to do before it even happened, a cold chill ran down his back and then, as he let out a snicker, he felt the horribly cold edge press against his throat.
“My name is Atlas,” he began as he slid his hand behind the man’s back and slowly pushed him forward until he sat upright, all while holding the knife gently against his throat. “I’m an Inspector with Black Sun. I don’t think I have to go into why you’re being arrested, do I?”
He nearly wanted to argue with the man, but the Adventist said nothing. Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut and said just barely under his breath in a quick repeating tone: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me a sinner.
Atlas grabbed the Adventists left hand and then his right, placing both behind his back and binding each, all the while keeping the knife motionless. Once he was bound, however, Atlas quickly sheathed his knife back into his boot and pulled the man up into a standing position. As he did so he could already hear the sound of panting in the background. He grabbed for his G27 and, with a quick turn, aimed it at the man who now stood like a tired dog up on the road.
“Good Lord,” Captain Sorenson said, “put that down.”
For a second he hesitated, but ultimately he lowered his pistol. The captain was as white as a ghost and his breath evaded him. For whatever reason, the captain had taken his helmet off, much to the chagrin of Atlas, who grew tired of even looking at him in full R5290. He was a young man with average length brown hair, his eyes were as blue as they could be, and normally his skin was quite colorful. Then again, Atlas gave little thought of how he looked.
“So then,” the captain began as he climbed down the embankment, “what’s your name?”
The Adventist gave him no heed and kept his head down. Atlas, losing interest quickly, let go of him and began to scale the sloping wall.
“Hello?” Sorenson asked. “Why doesn’t he talk? You cut his tongue out?”
“Do you see any blood?”
Sorenson let out a giggle and grabbed the man by the wrists. He led him up the embankment slowly, each step being a slight shoving match between the captain and the Adventist. Once he did get him up there, the man fell to his knees, his head slowly coming to rest on the dirt road below him. Sorenson joined Atlas and looked down at the man, snickering in that snide way of his.
“Angel of God,” the Adventist began to whisper “my guardian dear, to whom His love entrusts me here, ever this day be at my side to light and guard, to rule and guide. Amen.”
“Come again, Bishop?” Sorenson asked, squatting down in front of the man and taunting him.
“Angel of God…” he began to say once more, only to feel a sudden shock run through his spine.
Sorenson had jumped to his feet and swiftly swung his foot forward into the man’s ribs. With his action came another snicker and a jubilant laugh to follow it. As the man laid there, his eyes now closed and his mouth slightly bloodied, he began to recite the prayer once more, his voice slightly lower than before. Again, with a swift kick, the Adventist went silent. This time he bit down onto his lip so hard he felt the pop of his skin breaking and his teeth driving themselves into the flesh.
“Can we go now?” Atlas asked, suddenly interrupting another kick not yet received.
Sorenson, with a furled brow, replied, “This ass killed one of my men, do you honestly think I’m not going to punish him before I kill him?”
Both Atlas and the Adventist opened their eyes as though they were in the dark. The very notion that Sorenson would kill the man was alone sadistically intolerable, but the fact he went directly against the orders of Commander Helios was little more than certifiably insane. With his threat, however, the captain let loose another kick.
“What’s your name you filthy Jesuit?” he asked as he pulled the man up by his jacket.
Thin strands of scarlet fell down from his broken lip and his eyes were soaked in tears. By force, Sorenson moved the man over to the side of the embankment, nearly having to drag him every inch of the five feet. Atlas took notice immediately, still on edge from the comment, and reached for his G27.
“We weren’t given permission by the commander to execute hostages during the assault, captain. I do hope you’ve retained your sense of loyalty to Black Sun.”
The captain turned around and replied, his face and voice full of venom, “Three of my men are now dead! This insolent ass has the nerve to flee? To hell with Helios’ grand orders, he’s a damned Jew anyhow. He’s probably working with them.”
With that, Sorenson checked the chamber of his gun and aimed it squarely at the back of the Adventists head. Atlas’ reflex was to do the same, but instead he aimed it at Sorenson. The rules, however, were as simple as they came when in regards to friendly fire and so was its punishment. Instead, Atlas swallowed his desire to pull the trigger and cleared his throat.
“They’re going to promote you soon, captain,” he replied. “You go against a direct order given by Commander Helios and you won’t see much more than your own grave. I don’t care what your view of the commander is, what matters is that you’re about to ruin your entire service history in Black Sun.”
Sorenson thought about it for a moment, but as quickly as the idea passed through his head, so did his finger against the small piece of metal dangling just below the barrel. The shot went off. The Adventist, who struggled to stand and yet found the strength to pray under his breath, hoping his death would come soon, smiled as though God had gave him one final comfort. His eyes just barely opened before the horrible sound, but for that millennium of time he saw the beauty of the sun rising and the sky lit aflame by the very God which blessed him with a decent life thus far. And then it ended. His body slipped down the embankment and into the now pooling scarlet puddle.
“Put your gun away, sir,” said Sorenson, whose voracious smile had perverted his face. “If you kill me because I executed a criminal Adventist, you’ll be dragged through the streets.”
“Our entire goal here was to capture intelligence…”
“Corporal Szekely secured several Bolivian soldiers,” the captain said, interrupting him.
Atlas still held his gun towards the back of Sorenson’s head. So dearly did he wish to end the entire situation and face the consequences at OC:3. While they wouldn’t have dragged him through the streets, his act of sedition would most certainly lead to his indefinite detainment.
“Please, sir, I understand that you’re in a bind right now.”
Atlas’ head, which had begun to wander, popped back up and with a furled brow he replied, “How do you mean I’m in a bind?”
With a voice on the precipice of shaking, Sorenson said in response, “You are soon to become a full Rank 3 member of Black Sun’s higher up’s, the officers. You need this done so that you can start gaining points quicker. I know the whole deal, I’ve got friends who are officers.”
Atlas lowered his G27 and let out a deep exhale, the captain was soon to follow. For a moment they stood in silence, neither men wanting to bring up the obvious. Instead, Sorenson cleared his throat as he walked past him, trying his best to forget the situation. Even then, as he looked down the embankment and thought of what had happened on the other side, Sorenson thoroughly trusted and respected Atlas. He couldn’t explain it, but the very idea of ever hurting him was, by all accounts, incomprehensible.
