“Here it is, lil nigga. The M110 Semi-Automatic Sniper Rifle. Straight from the Knights Armament Company. This is some premium artillery right here, you know. Soldiers in the US Army use this shit, so you know we ain’t playing.”

Fucking hell, this is some tight shit!” Romeo breathed as he received the rifle from Koni, standing by the side of the garrison’s Lincoln Navigator. He had handled this rifle a couple of times in the past few days to get used to its use, yet it never ceased to amaze him just how powerful it was. Complete with a 10-round detachable box magazine and 2-stage match trigger, this was nothing lightweight.

Rex’s links were certainly powerful if he could obtain guns that one of the most powerful and well-funded armies in the world used.

“Real tight shit. And it causes major damage, too. That toad won’t know what hit him when we’re done with his ass.”

“Oh yeah, he most definitely won’t,” Romeo agreed as he placed the rifle by his side, trying hard not to force out a fake accent. Koni, the garrison’s prime source of intel in carrying out assignments, was a Ghanaian who had spent the majority of his life in New York City, U.S.A., and as such, had a pretty thick American accent. In the few days he had followed him, Romeo was pretty entranced by the way he spoke and found his accent was starting to rub off on him.

He avoided falling into that temptation, however. He had discovered through the grapevine that Koni did not take kindly to being teased or imitated because of his accent. In fact, that grapevine had revealed that a new recruit once openly mocked Koni and received two bullets in the chest in return. So the last thing Romeo needed was to get himself into that sort of trouble.

Watching as Koni took out a tablet and pressed it, Romeo leaned against the car, waiting for the cue to move. After a few minutes, Koni spoke up. “Alright, so as expected, the targets are currently dining at High Grade Restaurant. There’s an uncompleted building a few metres away from there. We’ll move to that spot, so you go and set up in a good position and wait for my orders. I’ll be observing from another vantage point. Understood?”

“Yes, Koni.”

“Good. Alright, it’s time to move out! Get in and let’s move!”

***

“My word, this seafood platter was just amazing!” Elisabeth gasped as she looked up at the chef from her seat. “Top-notch work, my man.”

“I concur,” Gilbert added, taking a sip of the champagne in his glass. “Excellent cuisine. I really, really enjoyed it.”

The chef bowed in gratitude. “I’m very grateful, Mr. Addison!”

“Oh yeah, this was good…”

“Fantastic food…”

“Yes indeed…”

As the other people at the table added their voices to praise the chef for the evening’s meal, Gilbert smirked and rose to his feet.

“Alright, people, so I guess the general consensus is that he absolutely killed it tonight. Agreed?”

Everyone loudly agreed.

“I think he deserves a toast, no?”

“Oh, yes!”

Everyone immediately raised their glasses.

“To a world-class chef!” Gilbert cheered, raising his glass.

“To a world-class chef!”

The clinking of glasses followed, as one gentleman raised his voice and began to sing.

“For he’s a jolly good fellow, for he’s a jolly good fellow…”

Gilbert and the others joined in joyfully, ending the song with cheers and a round of applause for the chef.

As he took his seat, he smiled as he looked around.

I love my life. I really do.

***

“Romeo.”

“Yes, Koni.”

“Romeo, do you hear me?”

“Yes, Koni. Loud and clear.”

“Perfect. Are you in position?”

“Yes, sir. Targets have been identified as per intelligence given.”

“Excellent.”

1:18 am was the time. And Romeo, armed with the M110, was hidden in an uncompleted apartment a couple of metres away from High Grade Restaurant. With the powerful weapon he had in his arms, he could spot the guests exiting the restaurant from miles away.

And now he had the targets in sight.

Receiving instructions from Koni, he felt nervous but excited. This was happening much faster than he had ever expected. Who would have thought that within two weeks of being accepted into the Basilisk Garrison, he’d be given an assignment this major?

“The targets are approaching their vehicle.”

“Good, good. Now remember, per my intelligence, they averagely spend about three minutes chatting in the car until they move. Keep steady and fire within the next sixty seconds of them taking their seats. And remember, two head shots per person. Understood?”

“Absolutely. Locked and loaded.”

He observed through the lens as the couple walked toward their car, and got into it.

Moving the focus into the car, he saw them put on their seat belts and begin to talk.

Time to move into action.

“Time to execute, Romeo.”

“Got it.”

He moved his right hand to the trigger as his left hand kept the sniper steady.

He gritted his teeth as he tilted the lens onto the head of the man.

Time to split some fucking brains…

“3… 2… 1-“

VRRRRRROOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!

An extremely loud sound ripped through the air, cutting his concentration short.

He sat up, alarmed, as Koni shouted, “Ahh! What the fuck!”, also taken aback by the sound.

It was the sound of a motorcycle being revved up by its rider as he sped through the highways.

Romeo did not see it, but from his hiding point, Koni could. And he was not amused.

“Ugh, it’s those nighttime motorcycle assholes,” he muttered. “Bunch of good-for-nothing pieces of shit… Well, whatever, lil nigga. You have fifty seconds more. You still on target, right?”

He was not.

“Yo, lil nigga? You there?”

It had been a while since he had heard that term. But as the words ‘good for nothing’ escaped from the lips of Koni, memories were triggered.

Memories he wished were properly banished from his brain.

Memories of his painful, painful past…

“Read your answers to the class! Come on, read them!”

Eight-year-old Romeo stood before the class, despondency imprinted upon his face as his classmates roared in laughter.

Once again, he had done his homework the best way he could, and his class teacher, Mr. Tanko, was not pleased with his answers at all. Apparently, they were far from being anywhere near correct, and to teach him a lesson, Mr. Tanko called him to the front of the class, took out his cane and whipped him mercilessly without telling him his crime, and ordered that he read out the answers to the questions they had been given to answer.

This was about the third time Romeo was subjected to this treatment, and his classmates loved it because his answers were usually so far off the pace, it was unbelievable. So as he lifted his book to read, they were gleefully readying themselves for the newest episode of “Romeo Gets It Horribly Wrong”.

With tears standing in his eyes, Romeo began to read.

“Number one: how many years did it take for Noah to build the ark? Answer: Two hours.”

The pupils howled with laughter.

Trembling, he hesitantly continued after a brief look at Mr. Tanko’s face. The man looked ready to flog him recklessly if he attempted to halt his read.

“Number two: who in the Bible is called ‘the friend of God’? Answer: Peter and his disciples. Number three: where was Jesus born? Answer: someplace in the Middle East…”

His mates were beside themselves with laughter. This boy just knew how to make them laugh. His ability to provide such terrible answers was legendary. It was like his brain switched off every time they were in class, because how in the world was he giving such abysmal performances? And even if he hadn’t heard anything in class, surely he could have let someone help him. Where was this garbage from?

“Stop, stop, stop, stop, it’s okay,” Mr. Tanko ordered as he rose from his seat, an angry look on his face and the cane in his hand. “Is that what I taught you in class? Huh?”

Romeo shook his head, the tears breaking free and running down his cheeks. “N-n-n-no, no.”

“Then why did you write that rubbish for me?”

As the class continued to laugh at the latest set of terrible answers, Romeo shook his head and shrugged, already wishing the ground would just do him a favour and swallow him up. “I-I-I-I-I-”

“Shut up and go and take your seat!” Mr. Tanko barked at him as he swung the cane at Romeo’s back. The little boy cried out and ran to his seat.

“Good-for-nothing fool! Keep giving stupid answers like this in class and see what will happen to you next time. Useless idiot! It’s boys like you that become nuisances on our streets. Nonsense!”

As he laid his head on the table and wept, wounded by the cane and the humiliation, it was that first insult that really cut him deep.

Good-for-nothing fool…

——

“Look at all these results! Is this what I’m paying money for? For you to perform so poorly in class? Huh?” Mr. Robert Quarm roared furiously at little Romeo, holding a wooden spoon.

Cowering in the corner of the small living room, Romeo was too terrified to speak.

From the frying pan to the fire. Mr. Tanko may have been cruel in his way of dishing out punishment, but his father was about to make the teacher look like an advocate for being soft on kids.

“Answer me!”

That angry order was accompanied by a shot to the head, as the wooden spoon landed swiftly on his head. He cried out in pain, holding the spot where the spoon struck.

“Answer me! Is this what you’re making me pay money for? To give me this rubbish in return? Stupid boy! Foolish boy! Useless fool!”

At that point, Mr. Quarm had discarded the spoon and was going all out on the poor boy, kicking and hitting him like he was some thief. Romeo shrieked and wailed as each kick and slap hit him to the very depths of his bones and his soul.

Mrs. Edith Quarm walked into the living room, barely reacting to the horrid debacle ongoing. She wouldn’t dare to open her mouth, anyways. She was just as much of a recipient of Mr. Quarm’s callous ways as his little boy was, and she was not ready for a slap at that moment.

Thirty seconds later, the last drop of the man’s wrath had fallen upon his boy. Glaring at the little one, now bruised and coughing, he snarled at him. “You continue with this horrible performance in class and see if I won’t throw you out of this house for you to sleep on the streets one day. Good-for-nothing fool!”

As he stormed off, ignoring the existence of his wife in the living room, Romeo continued to cough and cry loudly.

“My friend, stop crying and go to your room!”

Romeo continued to cry, ignoring his mother’s snap. He knew she’d eventually drag him out of the living room, but it didn’t matter at that point.

It just hurt. To be so young and tender, yet those supposed to guide him rather beat him up.

And labelled him as a good-for-nothing fool…

Good-for-nothing fool…

Good-for-nothing Romeo…

Romeo…

“ROMEO!”

Romeo snapped from his painful reverie. He shook his head. “Wh-wh-what?”

“Nigga, what the fuck is wrong with you! I kept telling you to hit the fucking target, and you fucking ignored me! Ah! Now the motherfucker’s gone!”

He came to his senses. Oh shit, I was supposed to take a shot!

He lifted the sniper rifle and looked through the lens.

The Patrol was gone.

Oh damnit! Can’t believe I lost my train of thought…

“Are you fucking stupid? So coz of one dumbass motorcycle rider making shitty noises on the road, you lost your concentration? Man, fuck you! You are a fucking dunce! Jesus Christ!”

Romeo placed his head in his hands.

Boy oh boy! That did not go the way it should have.

He had officially messed up. He had been given one golden chance to find favour with the boss.

And he had blown it spectacularly.

Shit. This is not gonna go down well with Rex. At all.

Well, that was a screw-up. Romeo has a pretty sad past, though. I wonder what Rex and Barry are gonna say when they find out…