Peccatophobia

Chrissy mouths something out to me but I can't hear her. I pull off the ear muffs from my head before raising my voice. "What?" I squint at her as she points to the ceiling.

"Did you hear that?" The woman purses her lips as she looks around.

"If I didn't hear you the first time, no. Of course I didn't hear you, dipshit."

The intercom beeps before a familiar voice echoes through the room. "Team 13, report to meeting room 206. I repeat. Team 13, report to meeting room 206."

I let out a long groan as I tilt my head back. What the hell do they need us for this time? We already said our piece, so I don't get why we need to go back for another boring ass debrief. I couldn't even go 20 minutes of listening to our supervisor yap about shit until I shot myself, which I forgot to mention until now. Death 14 I guess, but you get the point. I still had to sit through that meeting regardless so shooting myself really just reset the whole thing. 

As I look back up to Chrissy, I can see her set up her big black gun away, and knowing her, she won't let me skip this next "sped talk" as I like to call them. What a boring bitch. 

I don't even say anything as I follow her out of the shooting range, as there really isn't any kind of point of talking to her about skipping it. Literally every single sped talk I've been to was completely useless and I could have Pavul relay to me all of the important shit that they talked about during it. Sure, his thick ass Russian accent would get in the way, but I'm pretty used to it now. 

It didn't take us too long to get to the meeting room cuz Chrissy knows the facility like the back of her hand so I followed her around like a dog for 5 minutes. When we got there, Pavul and Drake were sitting on opposites sides of the meeting table with a man in his late thirties standing behind one of those public speaking podiums off to the side of the front of the room. The guy had black hair styled into a slight side part with short bangs hanging down in front of his forehead. He had on a (take a wild guess) a black suit which seemed to be more padded in some areas, making it look like more of a suit of armor than an article of clothing. He also had on these incredibly thick leather gloves with tassels hanging down the sides. The weirdly fitted individual stared at us with one scarred eye closed and the other piercing blue. This is our district's supervisor, Lonan, a Specialist that was promoted to a hire position as our ringmaster. From what I remember, he dealt with falcons and birds and whatever. Dunno what a couple of pigeons are supposed to do to 40 people armed with guns, but hey, what do I know? 

"I assume that is all of you, correct?" Lonan said in a low, rumbly voice.

"Well, yeah. There's four people each team. Are you not able to count or something?" I say as I begin to sit down next to Drake. 

"Wulf!" Pavul exclaims, his face tensing as he glared at me. 

"What?" I sigh and raise an eyebrow. I already knew Lonan wasn't going to do anything to me. The only thing i signed off when I joined this job was my compliance. Shit like insults isn't going to get me fired because they know I'm needed. Stuff like acting against the team however, that's when you get punished by the sweet release and orgasmic climax of death. But let me tell you, none of my deaths from "going against the team" have been sweet or orgasmic. In fact, all of them have been long as fuck for some reason. 

"Anyways." Lonan continues after I interrupted him with my completely necessary add-on. He holds up a small remote and points it at the screen before pressing a button on it. Portraits of all four members of Team 1 appear side by side in their order of hierarchy starting from Cyrus, Desmond, Elle, and their fourth member(s), Adam and Steve. 

...

Okay, I can't hold it in, that's like SO FUCKING FUNNY! There's no way that their parents saw those two and were like "oh shit, it's not a boy and girl so I guess we have to improvise." And out of all of the shit they could've come up with, they came up with ADAM AND STEVE. It's like Adam and Eve but Eve decided to transition right after being made! 

I let out a light snicker as their names popped up on screen and I could see a vein pop on Pavul's head. 

But yeah, anyways, remember how I said that each team is supposed to have 4 members? I guess I should say 4 bodies since Team 1 technically has 5 members. 

"Recapping their information, Adam and Steve are the fourth member of Team 1 with the classifications "mutation" and "savant." They are conjoined twins with IQ's that add up to nearly triple of Einstein's. They specialize in setting up traps near their designated area while relaying information to multiple soldiers at the same time." Lonan says as their picture zooms in on the screen. Steve had brown, messy hair while Adam had short hair combed to the side. Really the only way I can distinguish them because their faces look exactly the same. But yeah, there's little Adam and Steve for you. They also have a wide suit they share between the two, which you should know, about every single Specialist has some kind of suit. Except me I guess. Shit, but even I give into the stereotype of having some kind of alteration of the office worker getup. 

Oh, another thing I forgot to mention that Lonan just said was that us Specialists are defined by 3 different classifications. The mutation classification has to do something with the physical body like Pavul. The savant classification is just another way to describe people that are complete geniuses in their field like Chrissy. And last but not least, are the immortals, who have something that allows them to become impervious to attacks or helps us avoid them. People like that one schizo guy and I are immortals. Specialists can have multiple classifications though, like Chrissy belonging to mutant and savant, and Drake belonging to mutant and immortal. Just a little thing to know, but still something I like nerding out about. 

"Cyrus had contacted us and gave us information that one of the three keys to finding him will be received after eliminating Adam and Steve. This situation also applies to the other members underneath Cyrus as well, meaning that you will have to deal with all three of them before facing him. He described this process similar to 'playing a video game.'" Lonan says with a straight ass face, not realizing how fucking ridiculous he sounds.

Chrissy raises one of her hands, to which Lonan responds to by nodding his head.

"Sorry, sir, but how do we know this isn't some sort of trap?" She says while another one of her hands were lightly tapping the table. "I'll be honest, I wouldn't trust someone who just betrayed all of us."

"You are correct. But at the same time, this is the only lead we have. After following the coordinates he gave us, our intel relayed that Adam and Steve are indeed inhabiting the area, along with many other individuals." He clicks the remote again and the screen pulls up a video. A drone lifts into the sky to give a bird's eye view of an open-roof warehouse, hundreds of people working side by side in a weapon assembly line. The upper floor contained an audience chamber lined with thick glass, Adam and Steve sitting behind a control panel inside said room. Steve's eyes caught sight of the drone before he presses a button on the console and mouths something out. A second later, the drone is spinning off course and crashes on the upper curved walls that transitioned into the open roof. The camera cuts off and static fills the screen, along with silence filling the room after the recording was done. 

"Cyrus described that he and his other members are centralized in these warehouses that are filled with hired soldiers. Because we expect these other people to be heavily armed, Team 13 is the only Specialist team we can rely on in terms of your specialization and the fact that you are one of two Specialist teams we can trust as of now."

I guess he's not too wrong about us being qualified for this. But they're so fucking paranoid to think that only us and Team 6 are the only trustworthy teams because we're the ones that got attacked by those fucks. I still don't see why they don't just send Team 6 with us, but I already know the reason they do that is so that two teams aren't lost if we failed. And let's be so for real. My team is so much better than Team 6. Mainly because of me, but my point still stands. Like, let's compare. We have someone who can lift two trucks with his pinky toe, a bimbo with four arms that is proficient with any weaponry known and unknown to man, a complete indestructible monster, and someone who can't die. Now let's put that side-by-side with a team that has a schizo, a girl with strong legs, a geometry nerd, and a swimmer. You can't tell me there's a major difference in power. Hell, my team literally specializing in storming in places and killing everyone on sight. Gotta admit though. Things definitely feel pretty stacked against us with Team 1. 

...

After getting some more debrief, we were told we have a day before the job, so at least we get some shut eye and R&R. I was the first to leave of course because fuck all of that. While I was walking back to my living quarters, I noticed a door left wide open. It was Drake's room. And while I would have usually walked past by something like this, this is Drake we're talking about. The guy I had no idea what he was capable of until a couple hours ago. eyeing both sides of the hall, I quickly step inside his room, which has the same small-hotel-room-type of layout my room does. The difference between our rooms is that his is... well... almost empty. Everything is at the bare minimum with a bed, desk, and provided computer. At least I decided to have some liberty over my living spaces and added some posters and a dresser and shit, but there's literally nothing else in here. How am I supposed to find anything on this guy if I can't learn anything about him like this? 

While I'm staring down at his absolute lack of personal inventory, I spot a vanilla folder on his desk. I stare at it for a second. Fuck. Am I really doing this? I get I'm kind of a trouble maker, but this is actually something I shouldn't be doing. Ugh, I don't even know when my last checkpoint is. I might have to go through that whole meeting again!

I run a hand through my hair and ruffle it a little. 

Fuck it.

I take a step forward and pick up the folder, intent on rushing to my room first before reading it. But of course, Murphy's fucking law. I run into Drake, my eyes locking on my own reflection on his visors. He looks down at me as I take a step back.

"Uhh... Hi, Drake!" I smile and hide the folder behind my back. 

Both of us stay quiet as we stare each other down before he tilts his wrist up, a spike of bone breaching the cloth of his glove.

Fuck. This is gonna hurt. Isn't it?