Lucky wasn't lying when he said the operation would take place that night. Not more than a few hours afterward, Keon found himself outside the foster care facility bundled up with only a sweatshirt and a pair of finger-less gloves. The nighttime brought a cold one would prefer to avoid. The three-story building erected before him, tormenting his very being as it mocked him from where he stood.
A miniature light lit up the space, revealing smashed cigarette boxes and rotten food. The smell made his stomach twist. Keon had been here once during the day, and the contrast between then and now was significant enough to have him contemplating how he never saw the inadequacies before. Graffiti coated the side of one building; the cement surrounding the area cracked, and the coloring fading. The windows that weren't damaged had been tinted black, those on the outside unable to see the truths hiding behind them.
Already tired, Keon reached for the cigarettes in his pocket. The night was bitter, so any warmth he could find was a plus.
"Mind sharing?" asked Blue. She came up from behind him.
Without waiting for an answer, she snagged the pack from him and took two. One made it into his hand before she shoved back in. Compared to her usual look of jeans and long t-shirts, she wore sweats and an over-sized jacket.
"They don't call you sticky fingers for nothing," Keon joked. He decided not to point out her change in appearance.
Blue playfully hit his arm and then lit both of their smokes. She brushed a strand of brown hair behind her ear.
On the other side, Bait was on lookout and awaiting orders. Lucky had gone in the building one way and Firo another. Each group had their own people, either with them or already inside. There was a connection supporting them from the inside. Snap lingered a distance away from the exit. For now, all they could do was stand by. The air was tense for them, those unable to do anything. In any part of life, it had to be deemed the most painful.
"I hope everything goes okay in there, but I should know better, huh?" Her voice had a sting to it. Only those who have suffered like they have would understand it, feel it rotting away at their core.
"Nothing ever goes right for people like us," said Keon.
"If you can even call us people." Blue laughed. It was a hollow one. The change in attitude surprised Keon, as he only saw the bubbly side of her. She rarely showed the bitterness that welled up. "Ah, sorry. I'm just frustrated. What's happening in there, that could easily be any of us."
The smoke from his cigarette, that sensation of melting tobacco, grounded him. It was almost him.
She nudged her head toward Bait. As if detecting their eyes on him, he turned around with a brief wave before going back to his duties. He was tough and honored to be a part of the mission. For someone so inexperienced, a lot rested on his shoulders, he and wanted to help whenever and wherever Lucky would let him. He wished to fight. The light in him had yet to be snuffed out.
"He's a bright boy. His mom would be proud."
No kid should have to lose their parent so young. The clones brought up in homes, or by a caretaker in a facility, had some sort of parental figure until someone purchased them. Bait was a special case, a one-of-a-kind boy that grew up with the closest thing to a proper family. He wasn't living day by day, wondering when his master was going to keel over and use his organs to survive while he was either a cripple for life, or dead in an alley.
Keon derailed his thoughts. They were moving into a gloomy place, a worst-case scenario that would surely never happen. At least not to him.
"Lucky has got to be the worst play-dad, if you ask me," Keon said. He tried to lighten the mood, the air surrounding them turning sour. "Have you ever tasted his cooking?"
Blue quirked her eyebrow at that. "Who ever said Lucky did any of the cooking?"
Keon let out a laugh. Blue was practically Baits caretaker and perhaps for the better.
The stillness of the night enveloped them. The longer the group took inside, the more anxious Keon became. It wasn't a simple breaking and entering. All it took was one false move, and everyone who went wouldn't make it out. He didn't understand the logistics of the plan—mind everywhere but where it should have been when they discussed it—but from what he remembered, he at least knew it was solid.
For now, all they could do was wait. It was torture.
Two cigarettes later, as ashes floated to the ground, the anticipation abruptly ended.
Blue and Bait waved Keon over as soon as they saw shadows exiting the building. No alarms were blaring, no sounds of gunshots, and there were no cop cars. It was strange, but the stinging cold brought him to reality. It was real. They made it.
Lucky and Firo led four people out, with Snap holding up the rear. It looked like two women and two men, and while the males seemed fine, the females were limping and using each other for support. The women always had it worse.
Blue ran to support one of them as she stumbled and collapsed. Even from where he was, Keon could tell she had gotten it bad. Her dark skin showed signs of bruising and her left eye wouldn't open.
He realized he needed to help, but his legs didn't want to propel him there. His heart was racing, palms sweaty, hands quivering as if he drank too much caffeine. They were okay; they were safe, but Keon's body didn't swell with relief anymore, only visions of what they would have to deal with coming forward.
He wanted to blame his body's actions, the inability to act on the chill of the night, and not the aching concern in his chest for their future.
He took a deep breath, pushing his nerves as far away as possible, before scrounging up the courage to confront what he'd been trying to avoid.