The tobacco cleared my mind as my body ached in pain, muddling my thinking as I started to regret my decision to bust out this very night more and more. I mean, what else can I do? Not break out and risk ending up in the middle of the middle east? Yeah I don't think so.
I haven't done it yet, and yet the pain that I'm constantly feeling already makes me regret committing to this action of reckless abandon…When did I become such a whiner? A loser I know was. A loner I definitely know, but this? A whiner? A guy that whines about every single thing to ever come his way? I don't recall ever being that, not even when I was still in school… When did I become such a child?...But then again, would a child be thinking about this crap on the eve of one of his most stupidest operations?...Who am I kidding? Kids are fucking stupid as they are arrogant, of course they would be thinking about stuff like this.
It was just….just so unfair, the game was stacked against me and I kept on rolling snake eyes, but the attendant wouldn't allow me to crap out. Worst thing was, I wanted to stay in, because if I did leave, then I'd die. Simple as that. I kept on losing my bets and yet I kept on managing to double down with a seemingly endless supply of money. One of these days, I'll run out of money, but I don't intend on running out today.
…Sigh… It figures, the moment I get some time to myself, a moment to reflect and to think. I realize that I am just….remarkably stupid, insane even. I shouldn't even be alive, and yet here I am, a small part of me wishing I wasn't because I was just too damn tired to deal with this nonsense that has become my life.
Turning my gaze to the small mirror that stood on top of the old cabinet in my assigned room, I gave myself another once over. I could only click my tongue in annoyance as I gave myself a once over. My beard? Gone. I was growing out a fuzz of a mustache, and sure it made me look older, but not nearly as much as I wanted it to look. Appearance is everything in this dreadful life, if I wanted anything done, I had to look imposing upon my enemies, and this simply wasn't imposing.
I mean, Look at me, a lanky, skinny guy in blue jeans, dress shoes and a white dress shirt with a poor excuse of a fuzzy ratstache doesn't really command respect if I crossed paths with someone who didn't know me….Eugh, I spent so LONG growing out my facial hair, all those mornings, all those snickers that I had to endure….a shame, a crying shame it is.
Ugh, I am going to regret running through the jungle in Jeans dress shoes, I just know it! Those cheap bastards just had to hold out on me, 'Oh no! We couldn't possibly let the Beast look like a rank and file grunt, just wait we'll get you a proper uniform!' My ass. Don't they know that dressing well and looking important gets you killed? It's alway better to look like a raggedy ass grunt then a revered officer, it's just basic common sense!
…Sigh, who am I to be talking about sense? Did it make sense for me to end up in Afghanistan when the country was at war? Did it make sense that I somehow was actually kind of competent when it came to fighting despite never having received any training prior to my first firefight? Did it make sense that I ended up here, in Thailand a decade after my supposed disappearance with that weird robot? No. It didn't. It didn't make sense, and quite frankly I didn't want it to, I don't want to be caught up in this anymore, I don't care about the mystery or the misery. I am THIS close to freedom. If just…if I just managed to lose these militants that are just on me for some reason, If I manage to get out of dodge, and get to a different country, like Cambodia or Vietnam, I would…No, I will get back to Japan if I just manage to cross the border.
I sound like a broken record at this point. But this is just bad. All of it. BAD. The camp I'm in, my 'Saviors', the fact that for some reason everyone that's not a fantical militant wants to be my enemy, only stacks to my misery. It's me against the world, and I have the absolute worst hand that I could be dealt with. Anything could go wrong with a snap of the fingers. What if I trip and stumble? What if I'm too slow and get shot? This isn't like the situation back in town where I was working on no time at all. These people that have saved me revered me, they all stare at me in awe with every little action that I take. Sure if I wanted to, I could stick around for a couple more days, maybe even join them in attacking the city. But I won't. I can't and I don't need to.
Before I acted because I had to act. Now I act because I want to. As much as I wanted to take this insanely rare period of time to catch my breath and recover mentally and physically, I won't. I'll leave and make this way harder on myself because I want to….the thought of it alone makes me as furious as i am bitter. I know that it's a good idea to stay for as long as possible, to drag it out before actually needing to leave. But I don't want to tempt fate. I've had enough. I've decided to bounce the first opportunity I got and this is THE first opportunity, as hard a pill as it is to swallow.
Eugh look at me. Am I a hypocrite or what? Maybe I took one too many hits to the head during the war. It seems like I can't keep my thoughts together. First I want to leave, now I want to stay. Heh, I really have regressed into a child. A whining infant that throws temper tantrums when something doesn't go their way. Her face flashes through my mind as I think that, causing me to sigh as I hang my head back.
Of course I have to think of her at this crucial hour. Well, sorry to dash any hopes or plans future me, but we absolutely CAN'T take her along with us. She's a liability, a danger. LITERALLY. Not to mention the fact that I would have to fight my way over to her cage, and convince her to come with me and to help me get out of here without her shooting me or simply knocking me out and handing me over to her criminal friends. It's too dangerous and I'm not getting any hazard pay out of it.
And even if I did fight my way to her, and managed to convince her to help me get out of here, what's changed? She still hates me. She still blames me for what happened. Her men still want me dead. And I have a sinking suspicion that my face is plastered on many many wanted posters by now. No matter what I tell her, the truth or lies; the past happened. The damage can never be undone. I can't make things right even if I wanted to. I don't know a lot of things, but I know people. Even if I did convince her to break out of this place with me, she'll remember and will never forget. According to her, A LOT of her men died getting her out of that place. During and after. Knowing her, who values her comrades above all else; she won't let it go. She will never let it go. She fought hard for her comrades then, she'll fight hard for them now. People don't change, as much as I try to convince myself otherwise, they simply don't. It's the situation that changes; the battlefield, time itself. But never people, once a soldier always a soldier ... .For her at least, not me. I'm just a beady fished eyed loser that can't even hold down my life without someone trying to gut me like fish…heh, a play on words from the last sentence.
If only I could play more and work less…Alas, my life is just fucking terrible. From childhood all the way to now, I just can't seem to catch a break. I can't even break either, because if I do; if I allow just one crack to even appear and stay, then I don't think that I would be able to bear..this. Whatever this is. This masochistic, bitter sweet psychotic melancholic situation.
One last huff, one last bittersweet smile as I look at myself in the mirror. One last moment of actual unfiltered, unadulterated peace no matter how fake it was. All of it only wanted me to cry those bitter tears as I unbuttoned the sleeves of my white dress shirt, rolling them up to my elbows tightly as I snubbed the cigarette with the heel of my shoe.
Taking one of the pills/tablets? From the small bottle in my hands, I pop one in my mouth, and take a swig from a flask that I filched from one of the men earlier in the day; immediately feeling relief as my heart starts to beat even faster than before. I could use some water though, my mouth always does tend to get dry whenever I take pills. But whatever was in this flask will have to do.
Opening the door, I spared myself the pain of looking back; for even the briefest of moments.
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Li xinling stifled a yawn as she stretched awkwardly in her airplane seat, luckily her seat was next to the aisle; so she had enough space to just about not touch the person sitting next to her. The plane was starting to land and she couldn't wait to get off and start her semi work vacation. Apparently the brass was impressed with her findings, so they decided to give her a cushy assignment as a reward. She was to go to Thailand for an assignment. Meet up with an American hacker and collaborate together to break into some foreign company's website. Not that she cared though, this was her forte; a walk in the park for her.
Smirking, she contemplated on whether or not she should 'report' to the brass that the mission reached some difficult road bumps a couple days in and to further extend her vacation in the tropics. After all, she practically ran herself haggard digging for information on the beast of Panjisher. All that hard work, all to come down in vain as her superiors told her to can it for some inexplicable reason ... .Well, it wasn't her problem now. She was getting her well deserved break and she was going to enjoy it darn it!
A sight from the window caught the corner of her eye and she puzzledly looked out towards it. A plume of black smoke, correction; many plumes of black smoke. All rising from specific directions of the city. Some were close, some were spread out; but the fact there were so many concerned her. Was there a fire? If so, why was it so specific? Was it arson then? Was there a riot in the city? If it was then it better settle down by the time the plane lands and she gets to her hotel otherwise she would be quite annoyed with the rowdy civil disturbance. It's her VACATION after all.
With a smirk, she thought nothing more of it as the plane landed.
This was a reward after all, and if there's one thing she's learned in all of her years; its to never look a gift horse in the mouth.
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Sometimes, you just gotta look a gift horse in the mouth. No scratch that, guys like me always have to look gift horses in the mouth. Our profession doesn't allow that. Every single action, every single second is filled with danger. One second you're alive, and the next you're gone. Dead. Either blown up by a random shell, or shot in the back of the head by your own "comrades". So imagine the look on my face as I look at the VERY SUSPICIOUS White Toyota truck just parked there, right in front of me unattended and from what I can see; with the door open and all that, the keys to said truck already in the ignition switch. With an ak47 resting on the driver's seat, a fully loaded magazine was already inserted into it; as well what seemed to be an American pistol. The keys were dangling softly, beckoning me, baiting me; daring me to just come and take them.
I glance around for the hundredth time as I grind my teeth together, furious at the situation that I find myself in. Luckily, I appear to be in a blind spot. The truck was in a blind spot in fact. No one was here, and even if they were, bushes and wooden thatch huts layered all over, preventing people from getting a good look. It was ...too convenient. No, I knew this was a trap, the moment I left this space and drove out into the open clearing, which subsequently there was only one of; to the left of me.(Which this truck was already conveniently parked towards). I would be spotted, and most likely be shot dead. With Takenaka using my execution as an excuse, another reason to blame his enemies as my guess.
The bastard is pushing me. Shoving me, he wants this. He's put himself into a position where he emerges triumphant no matter what I do. He wins if I take the truck. He wins if I don't. Fucker played me like a fiddle. And he knows that I know it. This was a power move, both of us know I won't go for the truck. He's telling me that he can have me shot, that he has power over me and that I should just lie over like the dog that I am.
My mind was abuzz with range and indignation. I didn't like being outplayed, nor did I like being toyed with. And within that rage, everything became clear all at once, and I felt myself focusing on what to do and how I should do it. I should turn back, I know I should. But something in my mind is pushing me to do this with the utmost confidence that it would work. And so, I followed my mind.
I'll show him what it means to mess with me.
Taking one last look around, I marched violently towards the truck. Grabbing the gun, I held it by the receiver. I also pull back the slide of the gun, quickly catching a flying bullet that ejected due to my action before pocketing both the pistol and the bullet with my other hand. With my now once again free hand I grab a heavy looking rock laying on the ground. My body wincing in agony at the sudden action, but I was too angry to care. This jackal thinks he can play with me? Does he think he can't bait me like this? No. He goes too far.
I'm not going to take this, I refuse to take it. With the rock in my hand, I place it on the driver's seat, saving it for later. Then I proceed to step right next to the gas cap. Opening up the cap, I lean against it as I take off my dress shoes. Grumbling as I take my long socks off I place my feet in my shoes just knowing that I'm going to hate my life in the next 30 minutes.
Scowling, I curse at everything as I push the first sock into the hole, holding it by the edge as I violently push it in, trying to get any and all fuel that is in there. The first couple attempts give me nothing before I sigh in resignation. Setting the sock down, I hold the gun with both of my hands now. Pinching the cleaning rod that rested directly underneath the barrel, I forced it out and set the gun down. Then, picking my sock up again, I wrap it around tightly on the rod and push it down, after a moment or so I finally get that precious fuel that I was looking for. Setting the now gas soaked sock on the ground, I then threw the cleaning rod away.
Next step now was to find a seal to put against the entrance to the gas hole to buy me some time.And I knew exactly where to find this "seal". I step to the open door of the driver's seat now. Picking up the rock, I stab it into the leather seat, causing tears as the stitching came undone due to this sudden trauma. I repeat this motion for a minute, trying to cut out at the very least an ok circle. Finally getting it, I grasp it lightly as I try and shake out the dull ache in my arms.
Sighing, I grab a large fistfull of the cotton now exposed to the air in the driver's seat. Satisfied, I get out of the car and step back in front of the fuel hole, pushing the leather circle against the hole; I really force it in there to get it to stick. To seal the hole as much as possible, I pad it further with the cotton and my other sock, putting as much shit as possible between the gas in the in the car and the air. After achieving an acceptable result , I walk back into the car; calming myself as I gulp anxiously.
As I now sit against the seat. Catching my breath as I brace myself for the imminent future. I have some time, and I NEED this time. I need to wait a couple of minutes in order for this to work, otherwise, I'm just dead, instantly, the moment I try and pull this off is the moment I die if I don't wait for a couple of moments.
The plan is simple, stupidly simple; yet overly complex at the same time. The only clearing big enough for a truck to drive through unopposed by obstacles is left. So I obviously go right, Problem is, HE might be expecting this so he might have guys posted on the right just in case. Guys who have no problem shooting and killing the "BEAST" under Takenaka's order.
So I cause a distraction, and a BIG one. I cause an explosion, a loud explosion that can give away this camp's location. I cause them to panic, lose their nerve. And when they're running around like headless chickens I slip out just like that. The problem is that I CANNOT afford to be spotted, and IF i manage to slip past them; the jungle. I've never been to the jungle. This is completely new terrain that I have never explored, and I'm doing this with practically nothing. No food, no supplies, hell, I'm dressed for Sunday service! Minus the socks of course. But that by far is my least concern. Its that fact that I'm going to be running into the middle of the jungle in the middle of the night. I could fall into a ditch or get bit by a snake or some shit.
After what only seemed like a few moments, I sighed as I prepared myself. I counted the seconds myself with the stupid "mississippi's" and all that the Americans like to use and it was time. It didn't feel like it, heck I didn't want to do it, but I did it anyway. Stepping out of the car once again, I picked up the thoroughly gasoline soaked sock and pushed it between the wadding that consisted of the cotton and my sock. Taking out my light, I nervously flicked it open. My fingers trembling as the flame ignited in my lighter, thankfully with no explosion…yet.
Putting it near the sock, sweat dripped down my face as I ran into the driver seat the moment the sock caught flame. My feet on the clutch and brake pedal and my hand pulling the shift stick so hard into neutral I thought it might break for a second there. Wasting no time, I ignited the engine and started it. The Sound of the engine caused me no small worry as I acted with absolute first and desperation. Taking my foot off the clutch, and I frantically released the parking brake as I stomped my foot back on the clutch. Shifting the stick into first gear I let out a slew of curses as I slowly let off the clutch and pressed on the gas. I fucking hate driving manual trucks man. Another precious second passes before the clutch catches before repeating the same process to get 2nd. Another second passes and I almost cry. Finally, I do it all over for the last time, this time I'm in fourth gear. And I don't waste even a single second.. Taking my hand off the clutch, I grab the rock so hard I cut my self and forcefully press into the gas pedal. The weight and size of the rock essentially guarantee that the gas won't stop being pressed on.
As soon as I do this, I jump, not giving a damn for my body as pain flares up everywhere, causing me to bite my lip hard as I stifle a yelp. Forcing myself to get up, I staggeringly run towards the rifle as I almost fall over several times. A single tear runs down my cheek as the pistol grip of the ak gets stained by my bloodied hand. I don't have that much time. Seconds really, maybe half a minute if I'm REALLY REALLY lucky but that's about it. For now I just have to run, hut to hut, bush to bush; and mix of inbetween.
I'm behind the cover of a hut when I finally hear it. And despite my reservation, a nervous smile unwittingly forms on my mouth as it pushes to sprint even harder.
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The guard that was in front of her just finished handing her today's portion of food before hearing the explosion. Causing him to rapidly stand up in alarm as he attempted to turn around quickly exit the building before being grabbed by her. Slowly getting suffocated as her forearms wrapped around his throat from the slits of the iron bars. A groan was the only sound he could make as he slumped onto the ground from the lack of oxygen as his rifle clacked softly onto the ground. Finishing the job, she unsheathed the knife and stabbed him in the neck. Flicking the blood off as she sheathed the knife.
Clicking her tongue, she grabbed the rifle and proceeded with her plan. She couldn't fire the thing, not unless she wanted EVERYONE in the vicinity to hear her and send men to investigate. So that left her with this. Her current action. Taking her wet telnyashka from the old rusted bucket, she veered her nose away from the shirt, avoiding the smell as she tied it between two iron bars of her cell. Leveraging the rifle, she pulled it down clockwise, cringing when she heard the groan of metal almost immediately. Not stopping, she twisted and pulled so hard the receiver of the rifle cracked, damn near rendering the gun useless, but she didn't care. Nothing was more important than this.
Soon, with one final all to lasting grating moan, the bars were finally close enough to each other to make way for a small, almost human sized hole to the very left of both bars. There was still a bar standing however, making the gap a tight squeeze; but she could make it work. She had to make it work. The shirt was too dry by now and she REALLY didn't want to risk making any more noise then she already has. Still holding onto the rifle with a death grip, she let out a very long and sharp exhale before holding her breath; and wriggling through the very thin and narrow hole. Releasing one hand from the rifle, she used it to grab one of the bars to try and leverage her way through even more. It was a tight fit, VERY tight. But she managed, somehow. Now, with half of her body already through the crack; she pushed, not minding the pressure or the tight squeeze that much as she felt the hot friction against her skin.
With one soft uncomfortable groan, she soon found herself on the floor with a sudden thud as she had evidently pushed a bit too hard. With a sharp exhale, she pushed herself off the wooden flooring of the hut. Dusting herself off of any debris and dirt that may have gotten on herself. Clicking her tongue distastefully as she warily eyed the corpse of the dead guard, thankfully not getting any blood on her. With one last look at her shirt; she disappointedly moved on, regretting the fact that she couldn't take her undershirt with her. Her military jacket would have to do, but as much as she loved the damned thing, The thought of the fabric rubbing against nearly 95 percent of her bare torso for what she could only assume would be days in the jungle made her cringe.
Oh well, she'll have to make do. Like everyday life in Roanapur. Everyday was a fight, a struggle; and this one wasn't different. Despite…the aggravating circumstances around it. Buttoning up her collar with one hand, she grit her teeth as she forced herself to breath. One peak from the window curtains told her everything that she needed to know about the situation. Militants were running all around her frantically, not even sparing a glance at her direction as a fire raged in the distance.
Perfect.
She didn't hesitate as she opened the door, blending in with the rushed crowd as the fire burned on; as if celebrating her escape.
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Takenaka's initial thoughts were of disappointment. He had thought everything out. Purposefully, left the area around where the Beast resides empty. He gave him a choice, serve him; or attempt to escape in vain. As much as he didn't want the beast to choose this option, as much as he thought that he wouldn't; there was still a chance. Still a possibility for a threat against him to foment. So he laid out a trap, gave him the misconception that he got lucky, and that militants didn't bother patrolling the area where he was. If he was smarter than that then the empty area and the truck with the keys in the ignition would have given him a message. 'I control this place. I have power over you and everyone here. Comply or die'.
Either way, Takenaka had really REALLY hoped that the beast would comply, that he would stay in his hut like the good little soldier he was. But of course he had to try and make things difficult like this. Luckily Takenaka has developed a really good sense for men like him over the years. Stubborn hard headed idiots, that won't agree with you no matter what you do.
He had begun formulating this plan the moment he had extracted the beast from that den of thieves. Believing that it would do more good than harm to his cause. Even now he is doing more good than harm really. These fighters of his...his..army so as to speak. His elite corps that he has found over the years, all over the world (but primarily from the middle east). They're loyal, and they won't question his commands. Not even an utter.
So who is going to argue with him when he tells them that he's received news of a spy in the camp? Or that the spy will leave in a white toyota truck in the dead of night? In a conveniently clear field that is the only place big and clear enough to drive a truck obstructed? Or that the spy had somehow managed to nab the beast when they checked his quarters later? Only to bolster their morale as they become more determined to fight even harder for failing their hero?
And if the beast didn't try to escape? Well, he would have told them that it was just a drill. And they would think no more of it.
He had thought it through over and over. Give the beast space. Give him an avenue of escape. See if he takes the bait or not. If he takes it, eliminate him and use him as a martyr, instilling the troops with even more fervor as they prepare to fight even harder. It was best to do this early. Guys like him? They don't change, they have an iron will, no matter how much you try and win them over; they won't budge. Best to just nip it in the bud as they say. If he doesn't take the bait then Takenaka has a puppet that he can use to increase his influence over. No matter what happens, he wins. He emerges triumphant in this struggle.
So imagine his surprise when he commanded his soldiers to open fire. Only for the truck to continue barreling on, going even faster as each moment passes. Imagine his surprise when the truck rams into a squad of his soldiers full speed, bursting into a ball of flame as the explosion rocked everyone around it and killing a squad of soldiers. Imagine his surprise when he looks into the smoldering truck, only to find no one in the driver's seat.
He smiled.
Scratch that. He grinned.
"The beast of Panjisher…" He started, mumbling slowly in Japanese as his eyes lit up with childish excitement.
"YOU BALLS LIKE TERRORIST DOG! HOW DID YOU PULL THIS OFF!!! YOU'RE CRAZY!!!" He cackled now. Almost wanting to punch himself in the face for just underestimating the man-...no, the LEGEND himself.
Just as he was about to give his orders, the corner of his eye caught a glimpse of a humanoid silhouette. His hands moved before he could speak, and his soldiers followed suit, laying down fire in the direction in which the silhouette was spotted. Have they been spotted? Well granted the huge pillar of flame didn't help them much, but they were deep in the jungle. It should take a couple more days for the enemy to send a strike force…..no..no. This must be a scout. It's way too soon. The scout found them fast…too fast for a group. So it was one person. It had to be. If not then it was two. Any more than that then they would have been slowed down, too slow to find the camp this fast.
Heh, this was getting interesting. A bit too hot for his tastes. But he supposes that his soldiers can do with a little warm up before the main exercise. With a nod, one of his officers gives the order, sending all the men except a few around him to scour the forest and to apprehend the intruder. With the few staying behind solely to protect Takenaka. Not even bothering to look at his retainers, he begins the march back to camp, with his guards swiftly following him; their eyes never leaving the tree line once.
It was time to regroup to the back up point. They had been compromised, and as much as he'd love to stick round and play. He IS a professional. He's not going to risk jumping on the nice clean bed that he had just made with dirty, foul boots covered in all sorts of extremities. So for now, he'll move everything and everyone out of here, no stone shall be unturned as the saying goes. Just to be safe. After all, he wouldn't want any unforeseen accidents to pop up here now do we?
At the very least, he supposes that he can use the scout. A 'collaborator' with the spy. That'll piss off the men for sure. Make them fight even harder. Keep them on their toes, on the edge. He can't risk them dulling now, not when it's almost time to butcher the pig!..Or should he say lamb? or even cow? 30 years and he still doesn't find himself caring enough to know what his men ate on a basis.
Chuckling to himself, he continued on as he racked up counter strategies and plans to this sudden turn of events that even he didn't predict.
It sure was exhausting doing all of this by himself. At least the beast of panjishir could let loose and have a little fun with that stunt that he pulled with the flaming truck.
With him however? It's all work and no play.
And he does so enjoy playing.