1 Just Surveillance

Damian Roland's stepped with purpose through the rubble. Each step's crunch reverberating in his ears. He didn't mind the volume as he'd been through this path more times than he could count. Hearing anything else would probably have bothered him more. Silence meant peace here.

Approaching a semi-intact building about a 100 meters off, Damian reached for his binoculars in the sack slung over his chest. He scoured the area with them from afar before advancing, then, content he was alone, he continued. When he finally reached the few walls that were still standing he stowed the binoculars back in his bag, replacing them for a small ration of meat that stank from being kept in unsavory conditions and a thermos of dirty looking water. He dropped the bag and sat, digging into his meager meal.

As it got darker and darker, he decided to camp out in the house for the night. He went to the corner he felt had the most coverage from any prying eyes that might pass this place and drifted into sleep.

"Barely anything in here.. Can't we just kill him? Serves him right for being so useless.." The words were shrill and sounded almost like a whine, this voice's owner was young.

The speech stirred Damian from sleep and he heard rifling through what he assumed to be his pack. Yes, he had packed lightly. This trip was meant to be solely surveillance. He didn't come unarmed though, and carefully moved his arm to the sidearm hidden in his jacket, a standard police issue Glock that the police have no need for anymore. Gripping the gun and frightened, he regained composure and kept his eyes tight shut and retained steady breathing, listening intently.

"No, and pipe down. Do you want him to wake up?" a gruffer voice spoke up. A father, thought Damian.

The first voice let out a sigh, but showed no more disobedience. Damian heard heavy footsteps approaching him and began sweating, but dared not open his eyes or allow his breath to quicken. Just as the steps were directly in front of him, Damian shot up from where he laid, and unholstered the weapon in one fluid motion. The barrel was inches away from the man's face. He wasn't very old, early thirties at most. His brown hair was buzzed almost completely and he had a bit of stubble lining his petrified face.

The only words he spoke were, "Look I get if you want to kill me.. Just let the kid go."

Glancing over where he'd heard the first voice, Damian saw a girl, no more than 16, almost trembling. She was immeasurably more terrified than the man which further confirmed Damian's suspicion there was a relation between them. If she weren't there, he would've shot the man between the eyes before he finished uttering the plea for his life.

"I don't want to kill either of you. I'm here on business and that alone. But don't mistake this kindness for weakness." He sighed and continued, "Just return whatever you've taken and get lost. This place isn't safe."

Hands raised next to his head, the man shifted uncomfortably and wet his lips with his tongue, "Alright, we don't want any trouble now.. We'll return everything and be on our way".

Damian's eyes stayed glue to the man's hands as he reached for his pockets and pulled miscellaneous items he'd snagged not minutes before from the bag on the ground. Dropping them all in front of him, he raised his hands back in submission and Damian began to reclaim his treasures.

"Y'know, next time you might not find someone as forgiving as me to steal from. You two look beyond healthy enough to need to steal though.. So why are y-" His sudden confusion at the cleanliness of his captors was cut short with a loud bang from in front of him, a gunshot. His own gun fell to the ground in front of him in a puddle of some red liquid. Atirst he didn't realize what had happened until a burning in his body forced him to reach for his forearm and he felt blood profusely streaming out.

The girl in the corner of the room dropped the small Luger she'd been hiding, obviously more frightened by using it than she chose to generally let on. The man lunged backwards, grabbing the gun and aimed it at Damian. A strange, startling, glint shone in his eye as he sensed the tables shift. In a flash, he rushed over to kick Damian's gun away and backed off a step, his guns barrel now pressed firmly against Damian's temple. Sweat beaded up on Damian's neck as he awaited the man's decision.

'He's either going to kill me.. or leave me stranded here with no supplies to die', Damian thought. He knew his kindness had ultimately been his downfall once again and now he was paying for it. Sweat started to bead up on his forehead, due to both blood loss and utter fear. 'Surveilance my ass.. Damn it, Fera..'

The man however thought for what seemed like an eternity with the cold steel against Damian's sweating forehead.

"The name's Roger, the girl's Becca. Remember those names. They spared your life because you spared theirs. Don't hope to be so lucky next time." Roger drew back his arm and smacked it into Damian's temple, knocking him unconscious.