The X: Hunted - Chapter 14

Only Way Out Arc 3

Alex's stomach grumbled from the nervously long drive, which was going to where this deal would go down. He had made the best effort to appear brave and willing to all around him, but deep down, he was frightened. He and other officers, including Finnick, were in a decently big, white van with no windows past the front of it. Going with them in another- but the same type of- vehicle were Dina, Leon, Farra, and a few other officers. They split them to not overcrowd the van but also to not make it easy for anyone with nefarious ideas. "You okay?" Finnick asked Alex. The half-dêmon boy left from his cloudy thoughts after a second and lied, "Oh. Yeah." For the sake of fewer vans, the rest of the Dêmos residents stayed back at the SD headquarters.

After a long 10 minutes of silence, feeling the bumps and shakes occasionally throughout the ride, Alex asked him, "Where is this 'drop-off' supposed to be?" Finnick groaned as he got up an inch off the narrow bench they were all on, sitting back down soon after. He looked at him, blurting, "Huh?" The boy raised his eyebrows up high, "Were you sleeping?" The officer shook his head while it was tilting down, almost muttering his words, "No, no, I just shut my eyes for a moment." Alex conveyed his suspension, simply saying, "Bull."

"There's a field," Finnick said later, "across from a parking lot near an abandoned office building. It's a good place for a meeting like this. You usually gotta do these at the dead of night, in case something goes wrong-- in which no one would hear or see." He regretted saying this, as he noticed the boy looked a little uneasy. He shrugged, trying to make it sound better than it was, "Don't worry. Stuff like this turn out well enough when they happen." Alex shook his head, "It's cool. No matter how good the chances are, the fear will stick, like a gripslug."

The aforementioned field was covered in asphalt, with patches of grass: short and tall- suggesting years of neglect. Before the wide and tall patch of land was the parking lot, floored by concrete, topped with painted white lines to indicate where cars should park, and walled off by logs made of the same material, only a couple of inches tall. Thankfully, the ground of the field was well aligned with the lot, so both Interpol driven vehicles were able to drive over the "barriers" into the land beyond it.

Within a few minutes of driving straight ahead, both drivers saw the vague silhouettes of three SUVs close by. They confirmed each other's visual lock and notified everyone in the backs. Finnick looked at Alex, making sure he was awake, "We're at the rendezvous point, X." The boy seemed to be in thought but caught what he had said and looked back at him. He nodded a second afterward, saying what quickly came to mind for a reply, "Good." The Interpol officer almost smirked, finding it an almost interesting last word-- at least, last for a while. The other officer next to the boy pulled out what appeared to be made of a dense fabric and handed it to him. "What's this?" Alex asked him. "Your basic sack: something to wear over your head while we're doing this trade. We want this to look legit." X shook his head, feeling it jovial, "Okay."

They all stopped, after turning left (pointing front out west), about twelve meters away from the SUVs. One person in each of the backs opened the double-doors at the ends of the vehicles, allowing everyone- but the drivers- to get out. Small patches of uneven grass were crushed under their shoes (and some boots) as they made their way to the spot. Near the middle point of the twelve meter gap, everyone stopped; the person leading the group was one of Interpol's negotiators, Kris Rochelle, who mainly worked upstairs. He had taken care of a few cases when negotiating was necessary. A few hostage situations here, a couple terrorist threats there. He was pretty much required for something like this, especially with some of the guys upstairs underestimating the little old SD.

Minutes after they all got out, Kaufman's mercenaries exited their SUVs, with their leader moving front and center, like Rochelle. He glided his hand across his bald head (from front to back), saying, "The boss is happy to hear you've called out to us. Very happy." Rochelle then spoke, with a surprisingly thin French accent (as if it was integral to his job to be understood as much as possible), "We're happy to please. Some of us like to keep this country as peaceful as we can, even by... less reputable means." The lead merc grinned, nodding, "Indeed." He lightly got on his tippy-toes to look over them and asked, "Where are the children?" The negotiator pointed backward with his closed fingers and outward thumb, "In the vans. Just give us word that your boss won't do more business in Switzerland, and we'll give them all to you." The bald man gave an "okay" sign (your thumb and index finger together, forming a circle, with the other fingers splayed out), saying, "Yes. Your superiors told the boss the and conditions of this little trade, and he is willing to go through with them. He says he likes the 'feel' here and wouldn't want to ruin it, but also would like what his new business partners have offered in return for his services." Rochelle nodded, "Understandable." He then raised his hand and gave a forward motion to the front of them. All of the doors opened once more, and after a few seconds delay, the Children of Destiny and the X came out, with bags over their heads, being guided out by other officers. Soon, they were led up front; quickly de-bagged, almost momentarily blinded by the SUVs' bright headlights. The leader gave a brief clap in response to seeing them, saying, "Good. Now, bring them over." Rochelle held his hand out in a halting position, "Hold on. We would like some assurance that your employer will not bring any of his 'business' back in this country." The leader stopped, took a breath, and smirked, "Okay. Hold on a second." He then turned his back and took out his phone to call someone. It wasn't on speakerphone, so all that could be heard was the leader replying to whatever Kaufman was saying. There were a good amount of "yeah," "mhm," "yes, sir," and so on. Eventually, he hung up the phone and put it back in his pocket. He faced them once again and said, "Give the boss a moment." Rochelle huffed, "What? Is he coming here with some torn criminal contract or something?" The leader only said, with one side of his mouth curled, "Nope." The chirps of crickets cut through the dead silence that took over every single person in the field, until...

A great rumbling shook the earth on which they stood, rattling their bones and their souls. "What the hell?" Finnick barked, with his knees bent and his hands together on the back of his head. Now, it was no longer the crickets they heard. As a second rumbling occurred, a large BOOM popped behind them; a light ringing appearing in their ears. Many of them (those that were officers) instinctively ripped out their earpieces, hearing the loud from them. While they were collecting themselves, a second BOOM came in, catching everyone off guard enough to where just about all of them fell from the sheer power of these unknown explosions.

The negotiator got back up and looked in the direction of explosions' place of origin. What he saw was what was there before, of course: the city. Something was different, though. He could see flames, not too far away, and another, dozens of blocks further. Two buildings that were on these spots were on fire. Not just that, but chunks of the structures were falling apart quickly. When he turned around, he noticed that the mercenaries were standing up, calm as if it was simply a light breeze that blew through. He knew this was nothing close to a coincidence, demanding, "What did you do?!" The leader chuckled, shaking his head, "We did what you asked, of course. The boss gave you proof that he won't touch your precious Switzerland again. Those were his businesses, you see. He usually closes up shop when people get too close, but you asked so nicely." Rochelle yelled out, "Jesus Christ! There are a multitude of regular buildings nearby, full of innocent people. And you just set off a bomb right by them!" The bald man shrugged, holding a horrible grin, "You wanted us gone. Well, you got us gone." He snapped his fingers, and his men went towards the still collapsed Interpol people. They found Alex, Dina and Leon, and took a firm grip of them, bringing them to their vehicles. The deal was done.

As the leader made his way to the enger side of the SUV, he stopped, hearing tiny footsteps pounding through the field. He cocked his head a bit to the side, seeing a green, pointy face speeding right for him. A millisecond afterward, that thing grabbed onto his neck. The leader gasped, feeling a set of small, sharp-nailed fingers grip around his throat. He was able to yelp for help from his men, saying with his now hourse voice, "Grab him..!" One merc ran over to him and ripped the creature off of him, throwing him to the hard ground.

It was Grual, currently groaning and feeling disoriented. The mercenary leader breathed heavily, seething with rage. He told the goblin, "I was honestly content with you just buggering off to the sewers or some disgusting place, but now I think you will make a good trophy for the boss." Grual grimaced, "Bite me." He then made a hacking sound and hit the man with a large ball of spit. It was easy to say that he did not appreciate that gesture, as he sucker-punched the small man right after. He was now out cold.

The leader pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away the viscous spit from his visage. He looked at the man who helped him, "Put him in the back with the others." The man nodded and did as instructed. All of the mercenaries got into the SUVs, driving away from the Interpol officers, leaving the field through their own path.

Finnick panted and toggled with his earpiece, calling, "Vira. You there?" The analyst replied with a partially grave tone, "I'm here, Bergsten. How is the mission going?" He took a breath, then answering, "They have the kids and the goblin." He paused, "You heard the explosions, right?" She said, "Yes. Fire services are on their way to all of them. It will take time for that." Finnick nodded, "Okay. What about the trackers? Are they online?" She sounded a tad more optimistic then, saying, "Indeed." He rubbed his eyes, touching his rough brows as well, "Good. Soon, we'll get that good-for-nothing son of a bitch."