The sprawling base of the Black Hand was like a small fortress, surrounded by dense woods and hidden from prying eyes. Alex and Ethan crept along the outer edges, careful to stay in the shadows. The sound of heavy boots and gruff voices echoed through the trees, forcing them to freeze in place every few moments. Their hearts pounded in their chests, but they pressed on, determined to uncover more about the mercenary group and their plans.
The air grew heavier as they neared a clearing, where the harsh glow of torches illuminated a grim scene. Several prisoners were bound to stakes, their faces pale. The sounds of whimpers and muffled cries mingled with the crackling of fire. Mercenaries stood around, some laughing cruelly, others sharpening blades or preparing instruments of torture.
Alex clenched his fists, his jaw tightening at the sight. "This is... barbaric," he whispered, his voice trembling with barely contained anger.
Ethan's face was pale as he crouched beside Alex, his eyes fixed on the prisoners. "What are they doing?" he asked, though the answer was all too clear.
As they watched, one of the mercenaries—a burly man with a jagged scar running down his cheek—strode forward, brandishing a whip. "Tell us what we want to know!" he barked, his voice carrying across the clearing. The prisoner, a young man with ragged clothing, shook his head weakly, tears streaming down his face.
"I don't know anything," the man rasped. "Please... I'm just a farmer. I don't know anything about the guild!"
The mercenary sneered. "Wrong answer," he growled, raising the whip.
Alex turned away, his stomach churning. "We can't just stand here and watch this," he muttered, his voice low but intense.
Ethan grabbed his arm, his grip firm. "We can't blow our cover," he hissed. "If we get caught, we're dead. And then we're no help to anyone—not Jake, not Agatha, not those people."
"But—"
"Alex, think!" Ethan's voice softened, but his eyes were serious. "We can't save everyone right now. I hate it too, but if we make a move, it's over for us. We have to stick to the plan."
Alex exhaled shakily, his hands trembling with frustration. He knew Ethan was right, but the sight of innocent people suffering made it almost impossible to stay hidden. For a long moment, he just stared at the scene, the firelight reflecting in his dark eyes.
Finally, he nodded, his voice barely audible. "Fine. But we can't let this slide. When we're ready, we're coming back for all of them."
Ethan nodded, his face grim. "Agreed."
They continued to watch, staying low as more mercenaries arrived in the clearing. It was clear now that the Black Hand thrived on fear and intimidation. Their operation wasn't just about power—it was about control, breaking people until they had no choice but to comply.
As Alex and Ethan started to move again, skirting the edge of the clearing, a sudden rustle in the bushes behind them made them freeze.
"Did you hear that?" a gruff voice called out, sharp and alert.
Ethan's eyes widened as the sound of boots approached. He glanced at Alex, his heart racing. They pressed themselves against a tree, barely breathing as two mercenaries stepped into view.
"Probably just an animal," one of them muttered, peering into the darkness.
The other mercenary wasn't convinced. He raised a lantern, the light sweeping dangerously close to where Alex and Ethan were hiding. "Stay sharp," he said. "The Black Hand doesn't take kindly to intruders."
Alex's mind raced, searching for a way out. If they were caught, it would be over. He glanced at Ethan, who gave a barely perceptible nod, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger.
Just as the light was about to expose them, a distant howl echoed through the forest. The mercenaries stiffened, their attention snapping toward the sound.
"Wolves," one of them muttered, lowering the lantern slightly. "Let's head back. The captain doesn't like us wandering too far from the camp."
The other mercenary grumbled but nodded, and the two of them turned back, disappearing into the clearing.
Alex let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, his body sagging with relief. "That was too close," he whispered.
Ethan nodded, his face pale but determined. "We've got to be more careful. They're everywhere."
As they continued toward the compound, they came across a vantage point that gave them a clearer view of the base. Hundreds of mercenaries milled about, their dark armour gleaming in the torchlight. Tents and makeshift structures spread across the clearing, and at the center stood a large stone building—likely the main command center.
Alex's eyes narrowed as he studied the scene. "There are more of them than I thought," he said quietly.
Ethan nodded grimly. "And they're all after Agatha and her guild. If they find a weakness, they won't stop until they've destroyed everything."
Alex clenched his fists, his mind racing. "Then we can't let them find that weakness," he said, his voice hard. "We need to get inside, figure out what they know, and warn Agatha before it's too late."
Ethan gave him a sharp look. "You're talking about infiltrating their base. That's insane."
"Maybe," Alex admitted. "But it's the only way. We can't fight them head-on, not with numbers like this. But if we can get inside and gather information, we might have a chance."
Ethan hesitated, the weight of the plan settling on him. Finally, he nodded. "Alright," he said. "But we'll need to be smart about this. No risks we don't have to take."
Alex gave him a small, determined smile. "Agreed. Let's get moving."
Alex and Ethan crouched behind a cluster of dense bushes, watching the camp's perimeter. Mercenaries patrolled in pairs, their movements mechanical, their faces stern. The duo had spent the last hour memorising the pattern of the patrols and the distance between the guards.
"If we can isolate two of them," Alex whispered, his voice barely audible, "we can take their gear and get into the base."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "You're sure about this? If anyone notices something off, we're done."
Alex's lips curled into a faint, determined smirk. "That's why we won't get caught. Stick to the plan, and we'll be fine."
Ethan exhaled sharply but nodded. "Alright. Let's make it quick."
The two mercenaries they'd targeted were patrolling along a narrow stretch near the edge of the woods, away from the heart of the camp. Their casual conversation and the relaxed way they held their weapons made them perfect targets.
Alex motioned to Ethan, and they split up, moving silently through the underbrush to flank the unsuspecting guards.
One of the mercenaries, a wiry man with a patchy beard, chuckled as he nudged his companion. "You hear what the captain said earlier? Reckons we'll break that farmer by sunrise."
The other guard, stockier with a thick scar across his nose, shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me. Orders are orders. Long as we get paid."
"You ever wonder—"
Before the wiry man could finish his sentence, a sharp rustle came from the trees. Both mercenaries stiffened, their hands flying to their weapons.
"What was that?" the wiry one hissed, peering into the shadows.
"Probably an animal," the stocky guard muttered. "Let's check it out."
They stepped cautiously into the woods, their torches casting flickering light on the dense foliage.
Alex, hidden behind a tree, waited until they were far enough from the camp before signaling to Ethan.
The attack was swift and silent.
Ethan darted out from the shadows, slamming the hilt of his dagger into the back of the wiry mercenary's head. The man crumpled to the ground without a sound. At the same moment, Alex lunged at the stocky guard, his fist connecting with the man's jaw in a bone-crunching strike.
The guard grunted, stumbling but managing to swing his blade wildly. Alex ducked, delivering a hard kick to his knee. The man collapsed with a muffled curse, and Ethan finished him off with a quick blow to the temple.
Both mercenaries were out cold.
Ethan let out a shaky breath, wiping sweat from his brow. "That was... a little close for comfort."
Alex nodded, already pulling off the wiry man's armor. "Close, but we did it. Let's get these on and move before someone notices they're missing."
A few minutes later, Alex and Ethan were dressed in the stolen gear—dark, weathered armor bearing the insignia of the Black Hand. The fit wasn't perfect, but it would do. They adjusted their helmets, ensuring their faces were partially obscured.
Ethan glanced down at the unconscious mercenaries, now bound and gagged behind a thicket. "What if someone finds them?"
"They won't," Alex said confidently. "Not until we're done, at least."
Ethan sighed. "You've got a lot of faith in our luck, you know that?"
Alex smirked. "Luck's just preparation meeting opportunity. Let's go."
Blending in with the mercenaries proved easier than expected. The base was bustling, with dozens of guards moving about, too busy to scrutinize every face. Alex and Ethan kept their heads low, their movements deliberate as they headed toward the heart of the camp.
The stone building loomed ahead, its dark walls radiating an air of foreboding. Alex's eyes narrowed as he spotted two guards stationed at the entrance. Beyond them, faint voices carried through the open door.
"Think that's where they're keeping Jake?" Ethan whispered, his voice low.
"Could be," Alex replied. "Or it's where the higher-ups are. Either way, we need to get inside."
As they approached, a sharp voice called out behind them.
"Hey, you two!"
Alex and Ethan froze, their hands instinctively moving toward their weapons.
A tall, broad-shouldered mercenary strode toward them, his face partially hidden by his helmet. "Captain wants all hands near the eastern perimeter. Now."
Alex nodded curtly, doing his best to mimic the gruff demeanor of the other mercenaries. "Understood."
The tall man grunted, then turned and walked away.
Ethan exhaled quietly. "That was close."
"Too close," Alex muttered. "Let's move before someone else decides to give us orders."
They slipped past the distracted guards at the entrance, entering the dimly lit interior of the building. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and burning oil, the flickering light of torches casting long shadows on the walls.
Inside, they could hear voices echoing down a corridor. Alex motioned for Ethan to follow, and they crept closer, keeping to the shadows.
At the end of the hall, they peered into a large chamber. Jake was there, seated in a chair, his hands bound. Standing before him was a tall woman with sharp, angular features, her eyes cold and calculating. Beside her stood a man with a jagged scar running down his cheek—the co-leader of the Black Hand.
"You're going to tell us everything," the scarred man said, his voice low and menacing. "Every secret, every weakness. Agatha, her guild, their operations—everything."
Jake's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond.
The woman leaned in, her smile icy. "We have ways of making you talk. You know that, don't you?"
Alex's grip on his sword tightened, his knuckles white. Ethan placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head. "Not yet," he whispered. "We can't take them all."
Alex nodded reluctantly, his eyes burning with frustration. They needed a plan, and they needed it fast.