It was easy to track him down even with the one minute headstart, he was busy sticking his head out the window and cat calling various people just trying to live their lives. The hard part, however, is still underway as we try to not arouse suspicion and risk him or others realizing that we are following him. Him being such a blowhard, the task isn't as difficult as we thought it'd be, but we'd still rather not risk it. Swerving from end to end, keeping our distance whilst ensuring he remains in sight, we barrel through this vast, colourful desert with mountains of sand off in the distance, pits bombed out, and torn up clothing scrambling in the brutal winds.
We left town about three minutes ago, no signs of life nor really any signs showing as to where we are being led to, there are no signs in this nation in general, there are no maps other than the one that the school had shown us and going off of memory, we are likely being led somewhere near the vicinity of Yunik—perhaps Unik, though I believe Unik is more East, so it's more likely to be Yunik unless he were to take an unexpected turn, which is unlikely at this point.
I watch as he barrels past uphills, going flying and making a noise that I can only describe as ridiculous chirping. Antonio is manning the wheel, keeping his distance while still scanning our surroundings ahead for any sort of sign of structures or civilization.
It's not until we're far from Desx that we finally catch sight, a small campground surrounding a decently sized sandstone building, a warehouse. The man begins to drift as he whistles wildly, causing people to exit their tents and stare as he speeds directly into the warehouse without a second thought. Nobody appears to notice us, all focused solely on him as they follow him inside.
His behaviour could be useful to us, his sporadic movements render us practically invisible. It'd be best for us to keep him around, get closer to him even.
"They're cracking their knuckles." Antonio points out, nodding towards the small crowd now gathering within the warehouse.
We cut the engine and hop out of the truck just far enough away from the area for them to not notice us right away. We blend in with the more orange sands of this area and quickly but soundlessly make our way to the warehouse. All of the surrounding tents have been abandoned, along with the many unoccupied vehicles, some covered in blood and guts.
This isn't going to end well.
We stop just outside the warehouse, our feet sinking into the powdery sand as we catch our breaths, listening to the commotion taking place inside.
"No, no, guy, please no, I swear, I didn't mean to, it was all in good fun!" The man cries out, his once chipper, cocky exterior now beaten to something small and pathetic.
We steal quick glances inside, examining the situation. Within the warehouse are six cars, bloodied and totaled, about eighteen people, with one of them being the man, tied to a chair as three masked, armed men surround him. They're all wearing masks, as is the standard when living in a windy desert such as this one. But the design of the three men are different, the rest have masks made out of the same fabric as their clothes, but the masks on these men are metal, painted over in orange that has since begun to chip away. One of the three men is also holding jumper cables which lead back to one of the many cars behind them.
The sandy winds begin to pick up as we slowly watch them move closer.
"You fucking idiot, what if you ended up revealing our location, huh? What then?" One of the three speaks, his voice deeper, he also stands above the rest, about four inches taller than the ones closest to him.
"Enough talking, let's make a lesson out of this son of a bitch," the man with the jumper cables chimes in, his voice higher than the others, the two others ripping and cutting off the clothes of the man, revealing not only his face, but his entire body in one fluid motion.
He's softer in build, round face, round eyes, round nose, thicker lips, chubby chin, but his body is where his surface level rotund nature cuts off. His chest is muscular, as is his stomach, though a little bloated. His nipples seem gray in this lighting and are like pepperonis with their size. His legs are chiseled, more muscle than anything else as I scan through his form, his feet, however, are abnormally small, like a woman's.
"No, no, please no!" They clamp the cables onto his nipples, and even though he screams and cries out in pain, nothing happens, only the pure sharp metal cutting through his flesh.
"Shit, batteries dead," One yells out from the car the wires were attached to, somehow speaking above the howling coming from not too far away.
"Oh, well would you look at that, and who was the one who got the batteries for us?" The tall guy turns, now furious as he glares down at the pathetic boy, cracking his knuckles once again. "So you must've been trying to fuck us one way or another."
"No, no, I swear, the batteries were charged when I bought them, I swear!" His voice cracks through weeps, snot now pools from his face, dripping onto his bare body. "I prom-"
He's instantly kneed in the jaw, the cables torn out from his chest, taking his nipples with them, the blood doesn't hesitate as it begins to pour. He reattaches them again as the man struggles, clipping the sharp metal onto his torn open chest, ordering, "Attach them to the good batteries!"
Not even a moment later, the man begins to foam at the mouth, body vibrating even after they once again tear off his chest, revealing what lies even beyond his muscles. If I focus enough, I think I can see his lungs and heart, just barely capable of applying pressure, pushing further into the dusty, exterior world as his fluids spill out from him, staining his legs red and pooling by his feet.
They stop in an instant, the boy is sweating profusely as they grip him by the throat, mouthing something just mere centimetres from his face, before pushing him further back into the chair.
The high-pitched man then kicks him over, one last yelp escapes him before the gargling begins, and he turns to face the crowd, Antonio and I duck for cover, instead just listening in. "Let this be an example for you all! We are not here to fuck around. We are not here to fuck shit up, have fun, then go bragging to random, pathetic ass brives! You are here to do a job, failure to do, or even the slightest hint that you may not be wholly dedicated to us, will result in feedback like this or worse! Anyone who disagrees can just kill themselves right now, because if not, we will find you and your end will be far worse than if it were by your own hands!"
Nobody reacts, nobody responds, nobody moves.
Risking it, I steal one final glance, and as I do, blood sprays from the boy's throat as they slice it clean open, holding the boy up by his head. Skin now gray.
We don't waste any time to escape, evacuating silently back to our truck, keeping low to avoid any oncoming gazes.
My chest is pounding.
My lungs are shallow.
Everything is blurry and fusing together.
My arms and legs are like lead as we slide down a sandy hill, my mind fighting my body to keep running, to keep up with Antonio.
Antonio.
He seems unphased, no sense of weakness as he moves like a tank, focused solely on reaching our getaway vehicle.
He reaches the truck that we made sure to leave on and doesn't even look for me as he begins to back up, knowing I've fallen behind but refusing to leave me here.
I hardly see his arm before it begins pulling me inside, yanking really. I hardly see Antonio's arms, one hand on the wheel, the other reaching across my lap, keeping me in place. I hardly see the hot orange, red, and yellow tundra surrounding us as we barrel around, attempting to flee as fast as possible whilst still avoiding suspicion from the many eyes that are now likely exiting that warehouse. We aren't trespassers, just passing by. Please believe us. Please leave us be.
I don't think I'm cut out for this life anymore.
I just-
I just want to go home.