The campfire was the main source of light in the cave, and in the farthest places from the flames, torches had been strategically placed. The space inside the cave could easily accommodate one hundred and fifty people; it wasn't deep, merging into the stone wall, resembling a giant pocket of water. Cushions were scattered on the floor, waiting for the gang members who would soon feast.
Gabriel was sitting by the entrance, looking at the starry night sky. He had heard during his training to become a Raven that the Ancients had polluted the planet so much that it was impossible to see all the stars like he could now. The bright points filled the view no matter where he looked, and the moon was full, making the night bright.
He adjusted his aching back against the stone. The Raven symbol ring was hidden in the sole of his shoe, and unlike the usual black clothes, he wore the same kind of attire the gang members wore—anything he wanted. He had been sent on a mission to infiltrate a group that had been frequently attacking caravans. That was six months ago. He, along with Otto and Wesley, were tasked with putting an end to it.
Two months of studying the group, and then they joined them, blending in with the dissatisfied individuals with their lives. At first, they did insignificant jobs, like washing clothes or cleaning bathrooms—a memory Gabriel fought hard to forget. Once he gained their trust, he contacted the city he was from, Pit Thirty-Four, using pigeons—the fastest and most practical means of communication at that time, signaling to the other Ravens in the city to prepare a fake convoy. Using this information, the gang made its move, robbing it almost immediately. Two more heists were enough for them to be considered a major find for the group.
Tonight was to celebrate everything they had stolen. A banquet would be held for the whole group, and the three of them had been waiting for an opportunity like this. Otto and Wesley, his partners, were helping in the kitchen, while Gabriel was simply waiting patiently for the night's events to begin. Movements in the dark caught his attention, and he saw the first few people heading toward the place he was. More joined them, making the group grow larger.
"Good evening, Gabriel," said a short woman, walking ahead of the others. "Nice night for a party, isn't it?"
"Evening!" replied the Raven, who had no idea who the woman was. "Exactly, I'll tell you, I'm looking forward to everyone arriving. By the way, have you seen Patrick?"
Patrick was the leader of the gang—a young man with a fiery temper and a hot head. He wasn't very intelligent, compensating for this flaw with boldness, which sometimes bordered on stupidity. Over time, he had become quite attached to Gabriel, since the Raven had been very profitable for him.
"You know how he is," the woman answered, never stopping her walk as she entered the cave with the others. "He must be getting ready, and he'll make sure to be one of the last to arrive."
"I hope it's not too long," Gabriel said with a joking tone. "I'm starving."
"Don't even mention it, tonight I want to eat so much I'll burst!"
Gabriel smiled back at her, and when he no longer saw her, his smile turned morbid. Despite knowing these people for four months and spending day and night with them, he didn't feel the slightest empathy for any of them. He was a Raven from the Infiltrator circle, and he was doing his job without much trouble.
The Ravens had three circles, which focused their training. Infiltrators were social and could easily impersonate someone else, taking acting and improvisation classes alongside assassination techniques. The Lancers were those born for hand-to-hand combat, being deadly whether armed or unarmed. And finally, the Shadows, silent assassins who used concealed blades and poisons, excelling at blending into crowds.
Four men were dragging a cart with two barrels filled with apple distillate—one of the spoils from the last attack Gabriel had organized. One of them had visible veins in his neck, and another had bulging eyes, but they didn't stop, continuing toward the party. They cursed at each other when someone missed the rhythm of their steps, making the wooden structure shake. Eventually, one of them lifted his eyes, which had been focused on the ground, wiped his sweaty forehead on the fabric of his shirt, and walked over to Gabriel.
"Gabriel!" shouted the one with bulging eyes from the effort. "Stop staring into space and come help!"
"You guys are weak," Gabriel said as he sprang to his feet and ran over to help the four.
He ran to the back of the cart, pushing the wood to make it move. He understood why they were struggling—it was extremely heavy, forcing the young man to grit his teeth. It didn't take long for two others to join him, and the group only grew as time passed. After all, it wasn't every day they had such drink with their meals, and it was a night of celebration. With the extra help, the cart was brought to the cave entrance without difficulty, where others already present took charge of unloading the drink and two boxes of iron cups.
"I need to wet my throat," said the man with the swollen neck veins. "I don't want to go through this again anytime soon."
"I thought your head was going to explode from how red it was getting. You looked like a tomato. A very rotten tomato from the smell," joked one of the others who had joined the procession of carrying the drink up the hill.
"Funny," the man with the swollen neck grumbled. "If you don't shut that mouth of yours, I'll smash your head in like stepping on a tomato!"
The commotion didn't last long. While the drinks were unloaded and the mugs were carried in wooden crates, the people who had been watching or helping before entered, joking with each other or listening to the exchange of insults between the two men who were still referring to each other's head as a rotten tomato.
The sound echoed inside the cave as people lazily positioned themselves on the cushions. Gabriel looked at everyone with a lifeless gaze for a brief moment when a gust of sand hit his face, making him squint his black eyes. Patrick had done well choosing this place to hide his group; in the desert beyond Pit Thirty-Four, the man had managed to find a location between three caves that connected to an open space under the sky, resembling a ravine.
When Gabriel first visited the hideout, he thought the ceiling had been eroded over time, causing it to collapse and directly open up to the sky filled with stars right above his head. And that it wasn't three caves, as everyone liked to call it, but only one large cave with multiple exits. He decided to keep that thought to himself and later realized that had been the wisest thing to do, as he saw Otto mention it to others, and the next day, he was assigned to the latrines for a week.
In the stone corridor to his right, a small house had been built against the walls. Calling it a house was almost a compliment for the small wooden structure, Gabriel thought. The walls were made of poorly cut planks of wood, leaving a huge gap between them, and the windows and entrance had the same problem, being crooked. Light filtered through the gaps between the planks, along with animated voices. Now and then, one of the beams of light would disappear when someone inside the room passed by, but it would quickly reappear.
Gabriel continued looking at the room where the meats were being prepared to be taken to the place where the celebration for the successful heist would be held. The young man kept his attention on the place, distractedly greeting a few people who passed by him on their way to join the others on the cushions. When he first stepped into the space, Gabriel was surprised by Patrick's disregard for maintaining guards at the entrances. Now, after the four long months he had spent with the group, he understood perfectly why. The stone tunnels didn't let the slightest noise go unnoticed, making it echo in all directions. He discovered this on his first night, when a group of bats living in the caves took flight during the night, which made Gabriel rush out of his tent in a panic. They still teased him about it to this day.
Finally, someone emerged from the house. It wasn't Otto or Wesley, Gabriel noticed. It was a short man carrying a metal tray with several chunks of meat, and four other young men joined him, each carrying trays as well. They were waiting for a girl who came out holding a bucket of iron skewers that would be used to roast the meal. They ascended toward the place where the others were waiting, joking and making fun of each other. When the girl saw Gabriel, she greeted him.
She was a woman in her late twenties, one year older than Gabriel, who had been with the group for some time with her boyfriend, the man next to her holding one of the trays of meat. Their names were Bruna and Mike, and they were constantly entangled in corners. Gabriel had caught them in the act at least twice, and he suspected that Wesley spied on them due to the frequency of these "coincidences" with his colleague.
"What a beautiful night, huh, Gabriel?" Bruna greeted him, her cheeks flushed from the effort of carrying so many skewers.
"Really," Gabriel replied. "Need help with those skewers?"
Bruna shook her head, adjusting the buckets on her arms.
"She's tough, Gabriel," Mike said, walking next to his partner. "You know that very well."
"Yeah, is there still a lot to bring?"
"No, that's it," the guy replied, passing by Gabriel and heading toward the group.
"If you're looking for Otto or Wesley, they're cleaning up the mess left behind," Bruna commented, following Mike inside.
With a wave, Gabriel greeted the others who passed by, and found himself alone again. He discreetly reached into his pocket where he kept a Coal Pill, a drug that stayed in the stomach and absorbed any harmful substances, and popped it into his mouth immediately. He had to swallow his saliva to make the drug go down without issue, grimacing when he finally succeeded.
It was better to be prepared, he thought. He was about to head down to join his two partners when he felt a light tap on his right shoulder. He immediately knew who it was; only Patrick had that strange habit of approaching from behind. The first time Gabriel nearly turned around, aiming the knife he kept hidden under his shirt at his throat.
"Where do you think you're going?" Patrick said, waiting for Gabriel to turn around.
With a controlled gaze, Gabriel turned to face the man in front of him. Patrick was short, about five feet tall, and just entering his thirties. He was very skinny, not from a lack of food, as he ate without shame, and extremely tanned from the sun, with short black hair like his eyes, and a wide smile with two missing teeth.
"Going to see if they need help," Gabriel replied indifferently. "The sooner they're done, the quicker they can join us."
Dragging his feet through the sand, Patrick positioned himself next to Gabriel and draped his arm over his shoulder, which made Gabriel slightly lean to the side due to the difference in height between them.
"Come on, Gabriel! No need for you to help too, after all, this celebration is because of you."
"Well," replied Gabriel, pretending to feel awkward, "I really wanted to see everything from the start. Earlier, I saw Ronaldo with his guitar, so you know what that means!"
Rolling his eyes, Patrick simply agreed. Sometimes he felt like destroying the instrument, but in the midst of drunkenness and food, the music made things even more lively. Especially for those who lived in the desert, where death could come at the next raid.
"Think of it this way, Patrick," Gabriel continued. "In the worst case, just drink until the music sounds good!"
"That's a good thought," Patrick agreed. "So be it, my friend. Shall we go?"
"I don't see why we should wait any longer!"
The duo finally entered the place, pushing the rug they used as a curtain to keep the sand out. The smell of meat immediately filled Gabriel's nose, accompanied by the sounds of laughter and chatter. The group of fifty-four people was almost fully gathered, with only three still helping Otto and Wesley to finish setting things up. A large bonfire was lit in the center, where the meat was roasting, and the juicy pieces of meat were skewered.
Everyone moved their pillows closer to the fire, except for Bruna and Mike, who stayed in a darker corner exchanging passionate kisses. Gabriel thought it was good that they enjoyed the moment. The barrels of distilled apple liquor had been open for some time, and mugs filled with liquid passed from hand to hand. It didn't take long for the newcomers to each receive one. Out of the corner of his eye, Gabriel saw Patrick take a long gulp, draining his mug in one go. Breathing in, Gabriel followed suit.
The liquid made his mouth and throat burn for a brief moment as he swallowed, but the sensation when it reached his stomach was quite peculiar. Thanks to the Charcoal Pill, the alcohol was absorbed, causing the drug to swell inside him, and he burped loudly as he emptied his mug. Cheers and applause echoed through the crowd.
Two greenish pillows sat unused in a corner. Gabriel went over and brought them closer to the others, who were just watching him with their eyes. He settled down facing Patrick, who had a special spot for himself.
"Is the music about to start, or not?" Gabriel asked as he dropped the pillows and walked over to the half-empty barrel of liquor. He filled his mug with the clear liquid.
"Ronaldo said he needed to tune the notes," said an elderly man with large, restless eyes. "What nonsense! He spends day and night messing with that instrument."
"Yeah," Gabriel agreed, sitting back down with the others. "To be honest, I've never seen him help with anything, let alone tune the guitar."
"How dare you!" Ronaldo snapped sharply from a distance while strumming his guitar. "You shouldn't rush art, and for your information, not just for the two of you but for everyone in this band, I am the musician of this group."
"A toast to our musician then!" Gabriel shouted, and was followed by a chorus of exaggerated compliments toward the musician, alongside obscenities that would make even a nighttime worker blush. They all raised their mugs at the same time. Gabriel only touched his lips to the mug, not swallowing, as the sensation in his stomach was uncomfortable, but he followed the crowd's lead, doing his best not to let the liquid spill down his chin.
Taking advantage of the uproar, Gabriel emptied his mug, spilling as much as he could, leaving his hand soaked in alcohol. At least this way, no one would notice that his cup wasn't empty no matter how much he drank. Not that he thought it would be noticed in all that commotion, but better safe than sorry.
New toasts were made for all sorts of reasons, from a fake birthday someone swore they were celebrating, to the person with the cleanest teeth in the place, which caused a brief uproar and almost a fistfight, as they also toasted to the worst mouth, giving a young woman the nickname "cemetery mouth."
Standing up while dodging elbows and mugs flying everywhere, Gabriel went to one of the barrels to fill his mug. He had already spilled everything and needed to maintain the impression of drinking, passing close to the main bonfire where the skewers smelled amazing. The firewood cracked as it burned, and that sound could only be heard nearby, as the noise pollution was overwhelming.
"Attention, everyone!" Mike shouted, repeating it five more times, each time louder, until he finally had the attention of everyone.
Bruna squirmed nervously next to her partner, her face bright red, while she patted his arm, and finally, he had gotten the attention he wanted.
"People!" Mike continued, his voice already very altered. "Know that I love all of you, of course, much less than I love my little birdie!" he said as he rubbed the tip of his nose against Bruna's.
"I think I'm going to throw up!" someone shouted from the crowd, followed by a flood of laughter and extravagant declarations of love, each more exaggerated than the last.
"Because of this," Mike went on, ignoring everything else happening around him, "I'm going to announce to everyone first-hand!" He stood up and placed his partner beside him. "She accepted! We're getting married!"
A long moment of silence followed, the news taking everyone by surprise. Then, as if the silence had never happened, the cheers and toasts flooded the space again, with all kinds of congratulations. Gabriel, who had been shouting and whistling non-stop in the crowd, returned to his spot with his full mug, barely holding back laughter as he passed by two men talking quietly to each other.
"He just destroyed his life," one of the men said.
"My condolences," the other replied.
Returning to his seat with Patrick and a small group surrounding him, Gabriel accidentally sipped from his drink, feeling his whole mouth burn as the uncomfortable bloating sensation in his stomach worsened. The excitement was quickly forgotten as the newly engaged couple returned to exchanging affectionate gestures in one of the darker corners of the room.
Ronaldo moved to a more illuminated spot, returning to his eternal task of tuning the strings. Seeing the calm had returned, even if not entirely, Patrick pulled a small wooden box from one of his pockets, and its contents made a faint sound as he shook it.
"While we wait for Ronaldo," he announced, "how about a card game?"
"Don't even start with that," yelled Rosana, an older woman with sun-damaged skin. "You cheat too much!"
"She's got a point, Patrick," Gabriel agreed. "Not just with that, you cheat at everything," he teased, earning loud laughter from those listening. "I remember you left me broke for a long time, and to this day, I don't know where you got that seven from. There were no more sevens in the deck!"
"You guys really know me!" Patrick replied, laughing as he filled his mug again. "Let's do it this way, this time it's just for fun!"
"What's the point if it's like that?" asked a young man eager to join the conversation, bringing his pillow over to the group.
They exchanged glances, trying to find a solution. Gabriel looked around the place, and various other groups gathered all over, chatting among themselves. Even though they were in the same location, it was easy to tell who were closer to each other.
"Simple," Gabriel said finally, drawing everyone's attention to him. "Whoever loses becomes a full mug!" he said, shaking his mug, causing some of the liquor to spill onto the dirt floor, and consequently on his algae-green pillow.
"Perfect!" Patrick said, his cheeks reddened from the alcohol.
"Here!" Rosana said, pulling out a deck of cards she always kept hidden under her worn clothes. "Let's use mine, because I never trust yours. The usual, guys?"
Patrick awkwardly tucked his small wooden box back under his clothes, which didn't bother the Crow at all. Gabriel, like everyone else who was going to play, knew full well that the guy's deck was completely marked and rigged—no one doubted that Patrick had memorized the back of each card.
Gabriel, along with the others who were going to play, agreed with the woman and filled his mug, then returned to his place. They were going to play blackjack, an ancient game with very few rules: each player starts with two cards, and they can draw as many as they want. The goal is to reach 21 points before the others, and to do that, the sum of the numbers on the cards must be as close as possible to 21 without exceeding it. If you go over, you lose right away. To draw cards, you pick one at a time, and you always have to show everyone the card you picked.
The group arranged themselves as closely as possible in a circle, and Rosana, as the owner of the deck, started passing two cards to each person. Excited voices caught Gabriel's attention, and he looked over to where some of the meat was being cut and distributed. He kept watching until he saw some pieces being bitten and chewed. He couldn't hide a cruel smile.
"Your hand must be really good," Patrick said.
"Huh?" Gabriel responded, having completely gotten lost in his cruel thoughts.
"Your hand," Patrick repeated, pointing with the cheese to the two cards in Gabriel's hand.
Looking down at the two pieces of old paper, Gabriel realized he had accepted them reflexively. Taking a breath, he focused again on those around him. He examined his cards—one ten and one four—not the worst hand, but nothing great either.
"I'll take one!" said the excited guy who had just joined the group, being the first clockwise, as he always started on that side.
Rosana placed a seven face-up in the middle of the table, and everyone looked at the guy who snorted, placing both his cards on the table. He had a ten and a five. With the new card, he went over 22, busting and thus out of the game. Gabriel eyed that seven with desire, knowing he would have won with it.
"That sucks," the guy commented, tipping his mug back with clear effort. Lines of liquor ran down his chin. "Done," he said with a grimace, showing everyone that his mug was empty.
"Probably by the end of the night, everyone here will be unconscious!" Patrick joked.
"I think so too," Gabriel added. "After all, that's the idea."
"Look at the meat, everyone!" a woman said, bringing over a tray full of steaming meat slices.
"Of course," Patrick responded immediately. "Leave it here," he said, pointing to a spot next to him.
The tray had barely been placed on the ground before everyone dove in without shame, devouring the food. Gabriel only watched calmly. In all directions, the sounds of conversation were muffled by mouths full of meat and drink. Even Bruna and Mike stopped kissing each other to eat and give occasional pecks.
"Are you not going to eat, Gabriel?" Patrick asked, holding out a chunk of meat to him.
"Not yet," he replied. "I need space for the drink if I want to leave you all falling over the corners."
"You're going to need a lot of space then!" Patrick retorted, stuffing more meat in his mouth.
"We'll see."
Before they could return to the card game, the sound of a guitar filled the room, making the conversations die down quickly. Ronaldo was finally strumming the strings of his instrument. In an almost theatrical manner, he stood up, cleared his throat, and prepared for one of his indecent songs.
Gabriel loved the old man's songs. He was amazed by the obscene amount of absurdities that came from him, which was almost funny considering Ronaldo appeared to be a cultured person. If Naomi, Gabriel's partner, had been at one of the old man's shows, she would have scowled. Thinking of Naomi made the weight in his stomach worsen. It had been four months since he'd heard from her, especially after the last mission about a year and a half ago where she had nearly died. He knew her well enough to know that she was already preparing for another mission. The sound of someone coughing broke him from his reverie.
"Wow," a woman said, sitting down a little pale. "I think the drink really hit me."
Others followed her lead, sprawling on the pillows. Gabriel just watched quietly when someone pulled him by the arms, making him face Rosana.
"Let's dance!" the woman practically ordered.
"I don't see why not," Gabriel replied with a satisfied smile.
Some couples spun joyfully, moved by Ronaldo's music, a fun song about a man who drank so much that he forgot his way home, deciding to drink more to see if it would help him remember.
The coughing became more noticeable in the group, and the number of people sitting almost doubled. Gabriel paid attention to Rosana, who was becoming paler in front of him. He shifted his gaze to Patrick, who was sitting as well. The music faltered as Ronaldo struggled to keep the rhythm. Then a scream came.
"Mike!!! Someone, help, Mike is sick!"
A deafening silence filled the room, where only the crackling fire remained unaffected. Gabriel looked toward Bruna at the same moment, seeing her struggling to keep her partner standing. Vomit flowed from his mouth as the man's lips began to turn a purplish hue. Mike's eyes rolled back, and his whole body convulsed.
It all happened very fast, even though it seemed to last hours for those who watched in horror. Bruna continued screaming, her shouts intensifying when her partner started vomiting blood, coughing and crying as he tried in vain to breathe. Just as it started, it ended, and the sound that Bruna made was something Gabriel would never forget.
"What the hell is this?" someone commented next to Gabriel.
And then it started; from all sides, people were vomiting and writhing in pain like Mike. What was once joy now radiated suffering and death. Bodies stopped moving or fought in vain for their lives while drowning in their vomit or blood. Corpses fell into small puddles of human fluids that began to merge, leaving the ground soaked in vomit, a sour stench filling the place. Bruna, who had been screaming uncontrollably over her partner's body, was now collapsed on top of him.
Even in death, they were stuck together, thought Gabriel with a cold smile.
— It took too long — Gabriel muttered to himself. — The poison dose was low, or was it the fire? — he questioned. — I need to check this with Otto later.
— Gabriel — someone pleaded, struggling to speak.
Being the only one still standing, Gabriel turned around to see Patrick twisting in agony while stretching out one hand towards him, as if to change his fate.
— You really are resilient, Patrick — Gabriel joked, kneeling near the man's face, but not too close since he reeked of vomit. — You know, I think this is a good end for you all.
Patrick just stared at him, desperate and confused. With a sigh, Gabriel removed his shoes, carefully avoiding the pools of fluid on the ground, and retrieved his black ring hidden in the sole. Taking his time, he put his shoe back on, then showed the object to Patrick.
— You — Patrick's face changed instantly when he understood what was happening. — Did you do this?
— Yes — Gabriel replied indifferently while casually slipping the ring back on.
— Monster — the words came out quietly from the man's increasingly purple lips, but he spoke again, putting all his strength into a single word. — Monster!
— Wrong, Patrick — Gabriel retorted, standing up and shaking his fingers toward him, making the black ring gleam in the flames. — I'm a Raven.
Patrick died with tears of hate flowing from his eyes and vomit pouring from his mouth. The Raven simply walked away, dodging the few who were still fighting for their lives. He passed by the rug that was used at the entrance and took a deep breath of the night air.
Once again, that bitter feeling, which always appeared after a mission like this, hit him. He felt the need to take a bath to wash away all the rot. Suddenly, his stomach turned, making him vomit. He had drunk more than he should have. The Charcoal Pill did its job, absorbing all the toxins, causing Gabriel to vomit small, sponge-like lumps. He breathed deeply again to stabilize himself when he saw a figure approaching.
Otto, a younger Raven, came from the small cabin, his short black hair clinging to his forehead with sweat. He was dressed in khaki-colored clothing and holding a knife in his right hand, its blade glinting in the moonlight.
— Are they all dead? — the young man asked.
— Almost — Gabriel replied, still gazing at the starry sky. — But they should be soon.
— Sorry, Gabriel — the young man said awkwardly. — I didn't expect the poison to lose so much potency when it was exposed to fire. Next time, I'll need to increase the amount.
— Yeah — Gabriel answered, spitting to get the taste of the pill out of his mouth. — But at least it was a good lesson.
— You're mad at me for the delay in the effect, right?
— No problem, Otto — Gabriel said as he walked up to his partner. — It was nice to hear Ronaldo's last song.
— Ah — the younger Raven sighed. — I liked his songs.
— But changing the subject — Gabriel cut in, signaling to the knife in the man's hand. — What happened?
— Not everyone wanted to eat.
Gabriel had to hold back a laugh at the simplicity of the other's response. They used the old poisoned food trick, something that should have been done ever since the first human discovered poison. A breeze entered one of the caves, making an eerie sound, and some bats flew off startled.
— Wesley was busy storing the poisons — Otto said, looking distractedly at the cave. — It'll take him a while to come out. Gabriel, does what we did now make us heroes?
— Heroes — the Raven whispered to himself. — Otto, let me tell you something. Heroes died with the Ancients. We live in a world of monsters, and we're the worst of them.
Otto said nothing, cleaning his weapon's blade slowly on the curtain that served as the entrance to what was once a celebration and now was nothing more than a slaughterhouse. The mission was finally over. They could go back home. It didn't take long for the three Ravens to be the only ones alive in the cave.