Moth(4)

All that’s okay with me. I’m a lone wolf, a recluse. I don’t give a damn about anyone else. I live each day as if it’s my last. The rush I get when I’m staring down the barrel of the gun expecting the assailant to pull the trigger and end me is like nothing else. Putting my life in danger only fuels me to want more, much like the drug addicts I spend every day trying to get off the street. Because of people like me, there is hope that one day the world might be a better place. For now it’s a warzone. The more we think we’re gaining inches, the further away from peace it gets. We take down one kingpin and four more surface. People die, innocent men, women and children. Drugs don’t care what race, or religion a person is. Drugs mean death. That’s the f*cking truth.

I check my weapons a second time while sitting in the back of the off-road truck as it bounces around the heavily wooded path to get to where we’re heading. We’re lined up like sardines in a tin can. My gear is heavy, and it itches in places I can’t get to. The bulletproof vest makes me feel suffocated, but I know it protects me. One stray shot could take me down without a second’s notice.

My eyes are burning from the poor conditions outside. The tropical weather hasn’t been kind to us during this operation. It rains, sometimes buckets. Then it’s hot as hell. The bugs eat away at our skin. I’m constantly slapping parts of my body in reaction to a new bite.

We’ve been on this route for nearly an hour. Its loud and the sound of the squeaky metal vehicle and it’s contents makes it hard to hear the person in front of you. Others in my unit are doing the same thing with their equipment, a few have headphones in to get warmed up for the attack. What we do takes precision, and a set of big ass balls. There’s always a chance we’re not coming home, so I choose to make sure I spend every second doing what I’m good at just in case I don’t make it to see tomorrow. It’s kind of like boxers preparing for a fight. They get into the zone. So do we.

I check the surrounding area again. We’re way out of range, but you never know when we’ll be ambushed. Cell service is non-existent. Satellite phones aren’t to be used leisurely.

We are at the mercy of the driver.

Moles are common in my line of work. All it takes is a handful of cash or a promising bribe to change someone’s morals and turn them against the people they’ve sworn to protect and serve. All the money in the world wouldn’t make me change my mind about the *s we try to take down. There’s too much evil for me to be able to look away. I’ve seen things a man can’t unsee. I’ve watched women and children thrown around like ragdolls. I’ve carried kids out of harm’s way after they’ve watched their mothers and fathers being slaughtered too many times to count. This isn’t a man’s world. It’s full of innocence just begging for salvation. We don’t just take down the bad guys. We have to deal with the aftermath. Sometimes we’re the cause of those deaths. A bust can result in countless innocent deaths. Once the gunfire begins we do what’s necessary to protect our own. Thanks to technology we’re now able to see how many people are inside of buildings, and sometimes if they’re small children.

Don’t get me wrong. Kids do what they’re told. They smuggle drugs just as easily as the parents, some unknowingly. They don’t know right from wrong. They need help, understanding, and a chance at something better.

I’m that salvation. I’m a soldier; the best damn DEA agent my unit has to offer. I take pride in being in charge. I wake up everyday with the purpose of seeking justice. I prepare my group for the worst of scenarios, and put their safety above my own. This is my duty. I took an oath, and do my best to stand by it.

House is my second in command. His first name is Greg, but we haven’t called him that ever. He’s too big and brawly, best known for kicking ass and taking names afterwards. House fits him.

He’s sitting like a statue with his eyes closed, as if nothing in the world bothers him. I admire his ability to meditate before the shit hits the fan. I’ve always had too much on my mind to completely shut out the world and imagine I’m somewhere else. I guess I’m wired differently.

Malone is a new recruit. She’s relied on the rest of the team to show her the ropes. This is her first real field mission, and I can tell from the look on her face that she’s freaking out. She’s used to being behind a computer, providing us with vital information pertaining to each case we’re working on. Her little petite frame makes me nervous. Maybe it makes her more agile, but I see it as a weakness. Up until she was ordered to go out into the field she’s always worn a ponytail, but she arrived off the plane this morning with a shorter cut, as if it would somehow make her look tougher than she really is. Whatever the reason, I can already tell she’s a loose cannon; someone who is going to get us all killed if I don’t keep her in check.

It’s hot, but we’re not sweating like pigs. She keeps wiping her forehead and staring forward, which happens to be fixed on my bullet proof vest. I waved my gloved hand in front of her to catch her attention. “Yo, Malone, you with us?”

She nods quickly and lifts one of her weapons. “Yes, sir.”

“Stay alert!” I move my gaze around to make sure everyone is paying attention. “One person slips the whole plan is f*cked. Get your shit together people, we’ll be arriving any second. Stay quiet and out of sight. We’re expecting security to be high. Expect complications. We need to keep gunfire to a minimum if at all possible. The less fatalities we have the better this shit will look on paper. Got it?”