Babies on slopes and Jackie Chan

The jeep of the UHRG was speeding towards Tombstone, where the target's DNA was spotted a little more after the conflict at Secno's house. Charles sat in the driver seat, accompanied by Hermann, and by C.'s assistant called Mia.

-Charles aren't we going a bit too fast? - questioned Hermann.

-It's just you. We still didn't pass the speed limit. - replied Mia.

-Then why did all the other cars slow down so much?

Just as Hermann pointed out, the cars were indeed slower than they should've been. They didn't stop completely as an accident happened, they were just slower by a bit. Fortunately, the History Group had special permission to use the privileged lane, so they weren't affected. Thanks to that, they soon arrived at their destination which was... the slums?

Charles was the first one to get out of the car, but even he seemed unsure about the location. According to their files, the area they were standing in was habited much later, giving a reason to raise suspicion. Mia looked at her tablet:

-Charles, the report was made 6 years ago. It states that DNA we're looking for is located, about three blocks from our current position.

-We have no choice but to go in there. Let's go. - sighed Charles.

The work of an agent wasn't usually dangerous. A few guys running around, collecting clues so they could tell what happened years ago, it didn't really bother anyone, so they wouldn't get in danger. But the keyword is "usually". There were some cases of workers disappearing, and never being seen again. The Group just acknowledged it as them forfeiting work, but everyone had their worries.

As they stood in front of the house, they were left even more confused. There was no house. It was an empty plot. The fact that it was an empty plot wasn't simply dumbfounding but straight terrifying. In the slums, there were no such things as property laws, people just settled down wherever they wanted. Something was going on, they all could feel it.

-At least we'll finish up sooner if we are inspecting an empty space won't we? - said Hermann, obviously trying to stay positive.

No one said anything.

They stepped onto the plot, looking around. Trying to make out something by the environment, the locals, who strangely started to gather around. They didn't step in, just spectating from the side.

-Charles, I'm gonna shit my pants. - says Hermann.

-Hold it in. - comes the response 100% automatically.

Charles was troubled. Nothing could be found, which is strange because the reports of the UHRG were always double- if not triple-checked. Just as he was about to instruct the others to leave, Mia dropped to the ground. Hermann didn't last long after that either, and not long after, even our dear group leader lost control over his body. His senses slowly faded out of the world, turning him in, to the dimension of darkness.

[....]

I woke up to gunshots. Believe me, if you thought waking up to the rooster every morning was bad, think of waking up in my situation about a hundred times worse. Dizzy because of blood loss, my leg and arms tied to my back, and judging from the pain in my head and back, I probably fell off the back of the horse a few times. I looked up as much as my position allowed me to, and I saw the following things: 1. Bandits attacked us. 2. The sheriff and his gang were losing (hurray) 3. A stray bullet landed in the rear of the horse I was on, and it clearly took it as offense. As you can guess I fell off its back, now making the number of me falling off this damned horse x + 1. After the really *touching* reunion with the ground, I was left with a new wave of pain coming from my shoulder, and a chance to roll away like Matt, when his parents dropped him, presumably on a slope right after his birth.

Anyways, turns out Matt wasn't dropped on a slope, because apparently rolling to the side with such ease (like a newborn baby rolling down a slope) is not an easy task when your limbs are tied. Luckily, god didn't want me to die yet, so he temporarily suspended my bad luck streak, and the horse didn't use my head as a stepping stone to escape. Agh. I bet he's having fun up there.

And there I was, laying on my back, waiting for the storm of hissing bullets, and pained moans, to pass. Where did my life go so off the track? What could have I done to prevent this? And what the hell did my parents do? These are questions that I probably will find an answer to, assuming I'll survive this little "quarrel" of theirs.

After the storm passed, I still was miraculously alive, so I have nothing to complain about. Okay, maybe my wound, or my nose, but who cares? I'm still alive.

After a few seconds of happiness, my joy turned into fear. One of the bandits was heading in my direction. She had messy hair, with a straw hat on top. She wore a heavily weathered coat, and you could see that her pants and boots were plenty worn out too. If you didn't make the conclusion that she was no spoiled damsel yet, then the rifle on her back and the revolver she was reloading at the moment made you sure.

-Hey, you alive? - she practically spat the words at me.

I was thinking of pretending not to speak English, but if did, the best case she would assume that I was an Indian which would lead to some complexities later. Not like I looked like one though.

-... I... am? - my voice was unsure.

She didn't waste another word, grabbed me, and carried me to her peers without any trouble. The pose that she carried me in allowed me to see approximately how many foes I had to face if it came to a fight. In conclusion, if it came to a fight, I'm f*cked.

-Well, well we have a young and strong candidate once again. - the man who looked like their leader smiled as he was examining me.

Me being 17 years old, I was young sure, but strong? On basic standards, no way. On these guys' standards? Not on god. They were fewer in number than the sheriff's squad and annihilated them in less than 2 minutes, without having to lose any comrades. At least, I didn't see any bodies from their side.

Wait, bodies?

Where are my parents? Were they arrested, or killed? Either way, they had to be on one of these wagons. I desperately looked around for signs of my parents but found nothing.

-Is there something more interesting over there than me?

When I turned back, if our damsel didn't hold me, I would have stumbled to the ground. Their captain's face was only a few centimeters from my mine. I could feel his breath, and so I acquired useful information about what he had for breakfast. I prefer not to think of that smell ever again.

-It doesn't really matter if there is. Feel like joining our association? I wasn't asking by the way.

I could feel them hitting my head, and so my drifting to unconsciousness began. I didn't understand the majority of things, but I was sure of one thing. That captain is a dramatic piece of shit.

[....]

Charles, unusually enough, woke up earlier than the others today. Why? Because the coffee he drank this morning had such a high caffeine rate, it disabled the sleeping poison about 2 hours earlier than its effect duration.

Before working at the UHRG Charles was a CIA agent. One of their best to be precise. After their disbanding, he was left with the only path he could make a living in his hobby, archeology. Being one of the best had a huge impact on his life even after his job. For example, he always carried a blade to cut ropes with. In the case of CIA agents, this was always expected of them, so whoever captured them usually was prepared for it, but the organization made it mandatory. However, you would never expect a random archeologist to have it right?

Without further ado, he looked around him while he slipped the blade right into his palm and looked around. They were in the back of a wagon, his colleagues out cold. The driver's space wasn't separated from the back, so he couldn't afford to move without any plan in mind. Other than them, there was a driver, and presumably his assistant right on his side. The panel of the car was equipped with a high-resolution camera. If it was checked regularly by other men outside the wagon, his eye movements were to be noticed soon.

Charles finished separating his hands from each other. He couldn't do the same with his legs, since it would require some bigger movement. But even despite all the setbacks, he had a plan in mind.

*I wonder if I can execute it, I haven't done something like this in a long time* - Charles thought. *I have absolutely no time to waste right now. Let's get to it, I'm betting everything on this.*

He used both hands to get up into a kneeling position with ease. He'd done it without a sound, but his efforts to do it quietly, went up in flames as the assistant looked behind.

-Wha..

He didn't have time to finish his sentence, as Charles leaped forward using both his hands, and used his tied-up legs to steer the wheel to the side, thus occupying both hands of the driver who was trying to prevent the car from crashing right into the tunnel's wall. Before the other man could react Charles pushed his head into the side window with full force, which resulted in the window breaking, and the man fainting. In a split second, C rotated his whole body diagnostically, and with the momentum of his turn, he smashed the driver's head right into the steering wheel. The car let out a long honk while Charles cut the ropes in his leg in a matter of a few seconds and smashed the camera.

No wonder he was called the best. Equipped with inhuman strength, more than the necessary wit tp be an agent, and the ability to keep a calm head in all kinds of situations made him deserve the name. Charles looked out the window for the first time. They were in a one-lane tunnel, and he could already see the end. It was a checkpoint. At the very least it had a parking area next to it. Our former CIA agent carefully took the clothes off the driver and dressed up as the former. All this while driving. Impressive.

Although his Jackie-Chan-like escape, he was aware that the officers at the checkpoint probably hear him. Also, he sorrowfully had to acknowledge the fact, that the tunnel was too narrow to turn around. He grabbed the driver's gun, and hid it, as he slowly, but unavoidably arrived at the gate.

-Here it comes... - he muttered while hoping for the best.