"You must really want him gone," a young man replied. He wore a grey tank top and blue jeans. He was toned and wore a bald fade. While his posture was laid back, his eyes cut through the air. The man he was talking to was in his late 40s and had a lame leg. He wore a weariness that came from more than just age, and whatever it was had him unkempt. The two were in a secluded room, desolate of color. Only thing filling it was a table and two chairs.
"Most definitely," the older man answered.
"30 million... Hmm. Alright, so how many failed attempts have there been?" the young man asked callously. The older man's mood grew grim reflecting on this, clasping his hands together.
"...23..."
The young man stood silent and still for a moment. "The job is as good as done."
He trudged through thick jungle foliage. On himself was a knife on his lower back, a belt full of essentials, and climbing gear on his hip. On the long trudge, he kept an eye out for the inhabitants of the jungle: scorpions, spiders, poisonous insects, and larger wildlife. Though, he noticed the jungle was eerily quiet. The only sign of life was the plant life and bugs. He then stopped, noticing a track. A footprint. The knelt down, scanning the footprint with his eyes.
"Military issue boots... Size eleven," the young man stated under his breath. "Approximately 190 - no - 180 pounds..." The young man searched through the vegetation and found more tracks. He stood back up and followed them. Though, he slowed his trudge and moved more methodically, drawing his knife. All the sounds of the jungle seemed to grow louder. Whipping wind rustling leaves. Bugs moving amongst the foliage. After several steps, the young man noticed something off. After some inspection, he uncovered a series of wires. Trip wires, cutting wire, etc. He then debated his next steps in his mind. He could purposefully trip the wires, see what fate had befallen those who had failed this job previously. He could continue on, ignoring the trip wires, but cutting the cutting wires. In the end, he decided to avoid all the wires. "These were elaborately placed... I must be close..."
After half a mile of these wires, the young man saw ruins. "Hmph." He slowly stepped toward it, ready for whatever came next. Constantly shifting his eyes to see everything. From the leaf one and quarter inch from his right foot to the line of weaver ants a foot from his left foot. After a series of steps, he made it to the mouth of the ruins. While daylight peered in, the hall was still dark. The young man went into his belt and withdrew night-vision goggles before continuing. He stepped as carefully as he did before. After a distance without any sort of trap, he grew even more suspicious. Suddenly, floodlights filled the corridor, blinding him. He snatched off his goggles and whipped out his knife. Echoing laughter then filled the corridor, seemingly coming from everywhere.
"Another fly flying into the spider's trap," the voice announced, "Will this fly survive? Or will his neck go snap?" The lights then turned off and softer lights took their place. "Only time will tell..."
The young man groaned in response, continuing down the corridor. After realizing there wouldn't be anymore traps, he sheathed his knife and eased his step, using his energy for preparation.
He eventually came across the main room, well lit. He then slowed his step and proceeded with caution. Once in the room, he saw a muscular man in camouflage cargo pants and tank top.
"Welcome, boy! You did well getting past my traps. Better than the others," The military man greeted. The young man grimaced.
"Dishonorably discharged. 23 comfirmed kills, 3 commanding officers killed, 26 civilians killed..." the young man listed. "And you have the nerve to keep going?"
The military man raised an eyebrow and cocked his head. "Children who have barely lived have no right nor ground to be disrespectful," the military man snarled. The young man clenched his teeth.
"I see your old mind has cracked- no. Shattered." The young man then drew his knife. "Your time is over." The military man blankly stared for a few seconds before going back to laughter.
"Adorable. You think you can replace me." The military man then pulled out a garrote and a blood thirsty look crossed his eyes. "I will live forever." The young man then became filled with determination.
He darted toward his opponent, holding nothing back. The military man clicked a button on the garrote and whipped it around revealing its deceptively long range. The young man's eyes quickly flared before ducking. He used the momentum to roll and throw a knife at the military man's shin. The knife plinked off the man's shin.
"Of course..." The young man muttered still in motion. He then continued his stride and collided against his opponents frame, causing a clash.
"What makes you think you can stop me?" the military man questioned menacingly. The young man then smirked.
"Because I'm better," he declared. The two then squared off; deflecting, blocking, and countering each others moves. The military man, trying to get his wire around around the young man's throat, while the young man was trying to cut him with his combat knife. The two were matching each other's moves so well, the fight looked like it could go on forever. All throughout this fatal exchange, the military man wore a psychotic smile.
"When I first found a garrote, it felt like fate," the military man started. The young man raised an eyebrow, his focus still in the fight. "The feel of the handles. The texture of the cord. Hell! We even share a name," Garret continued. Disgust bubbled in the young man's stomach and he took a swing at Garret's neck. Garret's eyes flared in excitement and dodged the swing, only to be hit by the young man's elbow. The blow knocked Garret down and the young man pounced, aiming to stab Garret in the eye. Garret cackled. "Oh! An eye for an eye, huh Barry?!"
Barret clenched his teeth and put his weight into the knife, leaning in. The two struggled, yet Garret still had the twisted smile on his face. "Your father taught you well..." Barret's eyes filled with wrath while Garret's then seemed to gleam. "Too bad you didn't learn enough!" He then twisted Barret's wrists, using his weight against him, flipping their positions. Garret now had the knife at Barret's throat, while still in Barret's hands. Barret thought to use the same move on Garret, but Garret used his garrote to bind his own wrists from twisting. All Barret could do is struggle against the weight of his opponent and the awkward position his arms were twisted into. He then stared into the eyes of the monster above him. Though all he could see was twisted darkness that threatened to devour him whole. He then thought to himself...
Is this what my father saw...?
The question stirred something him. Riling him up more and more. He then said something under his breath.
"What was that?" Garret questioned, enjoying his position over Barret. However, a gleam washed over Barret's eyes and he seemed to be the winner without any change of position.
"I said... Surprise," Barret taunted, smiling ear to ear. He quickly tilted his head, angling the end of the knife at Garret's face. He then pressed a button on the handle of the knife that caused a small explosion at the end of it. Garret yelled in pain, gunpowder on his face and in his eyes. Barret threw him off, wincing at the nick on his neck and the burn on one side of his head. Before Garret could recover any sense, Barret quickly pounced once more, this time successfully burying the knife.
