What We Do: File I

 

 “Don’t let him escape!”

“Quick, he’s heading for the docks, get him!”

Small footsteps sound thunderous to their creator as the young child darts through the thin growth of trees, skillfully ducking beneath branches and using the thick roots stemming from the ground to his quick advantage during his fevered escape.

 As a large tree with many small places for easy footing comes into sight, he easily scales the trunk and hides in the shadows of deep green leaves.

 Breathing heavily, but silently, the child freezes in fear as the streams of white from his pursuer’s flashlights send dazzling silhouettes across his pale cheeks.

 Grateful that the large men below had IQs lower than one could imagine, he carefully ponders what to do.

 As his eyes rest on a large ship docked on the shore, he breathes in carefully. About ten yards away, the boat floats unguarded, the entrance clearly open.

 Balancing on a thin branch, he darts with great steadiness down it and leaps off the end, landing gracefully and instantly taking off down the steep slope leading to the port, as behind him angry voice scream.

 

   The lithe nineteen year old male walks at a steady pace down the barren halls of the warehouse, hands in pockets of black pants, a stick of Pocky in his grinning mouth, occasionally tapping the black stud piercing in his lower lip with the chocolate dipped pretzel-like rod. He walks through a tall arched doorway, stepping into a type of arched doorway onto a balcony within an entirely white room, below which are seven people awaiting him to address them, all but one wearing similarly styled clothes, simple zip-up tops with light blue lining and identically colored sleeves, chin-high collars, black pants and black shoes.

  Of course, for each member the outfit has been slightly modified, but the scheme of color is the same.

  The one figure whose clothes do not match walks to one of two flights of stairs, leading to where the male stands.

  Stopping beside him, the figure, the outfit of whom is a gothic corset-dress in an array of black and reds, smiles warmly, “Well, Rusl-sama? What have you to say?”

  The curve of his lips increases as he shouts loudly, a cheery tone evident in his voice, “Mission assignment time! ~”

  An angry male voice sounds clearly from the middle of the crowd, a shorter male standing beside one who is much taller, “We just got BACK from missions, Rusl!”

  Rusl smirks, a teasing flash evident in his red eyes, “Oh? Who said that? Oh!” he waves his hands dismissively, “It’s YOU Calos! You’re so tiny; I didn’t see you till I saw Danny!” he laughs, almost a giggle as the green-eyed boy fumes on.

  “Sonofabitch, Rusl!”

  Danny, the slender, violet-eyed male beside him chuckles, thick Australian accent evident in his voice, “Drop it mate, y’know he’s just tryin’ t’get t’ya.”

 “And it’s working too!” Rusl happily exclaims, clapping in glee.

 Calos, still burning in hate from Rusl’s incessant jibes, shouts, “Why don’t you give us a damned break?!”

  A scolding sigh flows past Rusl’s lips, “Calos, there is far too much to be done…”

 “Then why don’t YOU do something?!”

 “Because that’s what the leaders of ALL organizations do… Nothing!”

 Calos’s palms flies to his forehead, “You’re just not GETTING it Rusl…”

 With a dismissive shrug and a smile, Rusl pulls out a thick manilla folder ad plucks a slip of paper hanging out the edge from it, “I’ve given our lowest-rank member, Calos, the honor of the most important role in the most DIFFICULT and TAXING mission! You and your partner there get to go to an underwater cavern and retrieve a file I stored down there. It’s in a waterproof case at the waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay end! Make sure to bring your subordinates!”

  Calos’s eye twitches, “You gave me and DANIEL this mission?! FEYIN’S the one with a water-using subordinate! Why not HIM?!”

 A blue-eyed male wearing a black hood and cape, silver hair draping over his right orb, mumbles, “Because it was the mission you were assigned, # 7…”

  Anger now directed to the solemn male, Calos snarls, “Shove it, Feyin! You’re just lazy!”

  Rusl crumples the mission paper and flicks it at Calos’s head, “Calm down, Shrimpy, it’ll be over before you know it!”

 

To Be Cont. In Chapter 2