07-01-2014, 10:35 AM
Guitterez’s death ignited the passions of the people much as he had expected. Word was the cartels reeled at the shocking abruptness of their fellow’s demise. They were now bolstering their defences. Damien was not content. Three others still waited for him, and he would not let them rest until they were in their graves.
“Hey, Mr. Saviour, why the long face?”
Rosita quipped, sat next to her father in a casual dress. Each day Gamez invited Damien to join him for a meal overlooking the city and he demanded his daughter to wear something acceptable. Her scowl remained, but she did have a lighter cast around her father.
Damien looked up from the screen of his pad. Today he wore a rich jacket of blood red. Gamez had spared no expense with Damien’s attire but as always his spending was calculated for their crusade rather than vain pleasure. He sat like a king watching over his kingdom. “Three cartel ambushes,” he replied. “Two hundred dead.”
Rosita pursed her lips. “You expect the patrols to act like seasoned soldiers? This is a bloody business, everyone knew that. Only this time we won’t back down.”
Damien curbed his anger. “They went looking for trouble and paid for it. I will not tolerate wasted lives.”
Rosita laughed. “You will stop our people for fighting for their country? They were fools and fools die quickly in Mexico City, it is the way of things.”
“A way that I will change,”
was Damien’s sharp reply. Gamez looked up from his food with a sympathetic look but Rosita just grunted and waved towards one of Yulian’s men who approached them.
“Sir,”
the hardened Russian said in a thick accent. “We have a problem. There is a woman, she wants to see you. Says she has information she wants to give to you. Looks unruly to me, but I thought –“
“You thought well,”
Damien interjected when he saw the fluster in the man’s face. “Yulian trusted you for this, and so you have my trust. I will be careful.”
The Russian’s face lightened and his pale face even split into a rough version of a smile. Rosita gave another grunt at that, standing when Damien moved.
“If you will excuse me,”
he said to Gamez who shooed him with a soft smile.
Damien approached flanked by Rosita and the Custody man. At the gates of the estate stood a cocky Mexican woman with hard eyes. The men seemed uncomfortable. Likely they were embarrassed they had not been able to send her away. Damien gave them encouraging nods, not insincere. They had done the right thing. Damien would see to any potential ally. If it was an enemy? It would be better he faced them now.
As such, he grabbed hold of the Light and traced a pattern of protective Wind like a shell around himself, Rosita and the Custody man. He greeted the woman with a courteous smile. “I am told you have information for me. I am Damien Oakland, I will hear any who wishes to speak.”
“Hey, Mr. Saviour, why the long face?”
Rosita quipped, sat next to her father in a casual dress. Each day Gamez invited Damien to join him for a meal overlooking the city and he demanded his daughter to wear something acceptable. Her scowl remained, but she did have a lighter cast around her father.
Damien looked up from the screen of his pad. Today he wore a rich jacket of blood red. Gamez had spared no expense with Damien’s attire but as always his spending was calculated for their crusade rather than vain pleasure. He sat like a king watching over his kingdom. “Three cartel ambushes,” he replied. “Two hundred dead.”
Rosita pursed her lips. “You expect the patrols to act like seasoned soldiers? This is a bloody business, everyone knew that. Only this time we won’t back down.”
Damien curbed his anger. “They went looking for trouble and paid for it. I will not tolerate wasted lives.”
Rosita laughed. “You will stop our people for fighting for their country? They were fools and fools die quickly in Mexico City, it is the way of things.”
“A way that I will change,”
was Damien’s sharp reply. Gamez looked up from his food with a sympathetic look but Rosita just grunted and waved towards one of Yulian’s men who approached them.
“Sir,”
the hardened Russian said in a thick accent. “We have a problem. There is a woman, she wants to see you. Says she has information she wants to give to you. Looks unruly to me, but I thought –“
“You thought well,”
Damien interjected when he saw the fluster in the man’s face. “Yulian trusted you for this, and so you have my trust. I will be careful.”
The Russian’s face lightened and his pale face even split into a rough version of a smile. Rosita gave another grunt at that, standing when Damien moved.
“If you will excuse me,”
he said to Gamez who shooed him with a soft smile.
Damien approached flanked by Rosita and the Custody man. At the gates of the estate stood a cocky Mexican woman with hard eyes. The men seemed uncomfortable. Likely they were embarrassed they had not been able to send her away. Damien gave them encouraging nods, not insincere. They had done the right thing. Damien would see to any potential ally. If it was an enemy? It would be better he faced them now.
As such, he grabbed hold of the Light and traced a pattern of protective Wind like a shell around himself, Rosita and the Custody man. He greeted the woman with a courteous smile. “I am told you have information for me. I am Damien Oakland, I will hear any who wishes to speak.”