Seven Tobias

My thoughts swirled like a storm as we formulated a plan to get into Orcus's compound. We had to be cautious and keep our identities concealed. Exposing ourselves to The Firm while handling my personal business was the last thing we needed. I was starting to feel like a burden, a weight dragging them down. Archer and Heath would come to realize it eventually.

"Stop overthinking. We're not gonna let you fight this battle alone," Archer said, once again reading my mind.

"We're a team now," Heath added with a reassuring nod.

I hesitated, torn between my usual self-reliance and growing appreciation for my new friends. But in the end, I relinquished some control. "No one would be stupid enough to be your friend," my adoptive father's voice rang in my head.

Four bottles of Scotch, three assassins, and two days later, one hell of a plan was born. Heath, Archer, and I stood before our whiteboard and stared at Orcus's name above the intricate lines that mapped his well-guarded world. For an obscure cult leader, the way he surrounded himself with muscle and ammo had made him a complicated target to crack. The plan wasn't to off him, but to handicap him long enough to get Oliver's family out.

The strategy we'd developed to get inside the cult wasn't airtight, but it was the best we could do considering we only had two days. "This better work," Heath said, wiping the board clean of our plan.

"It will," I said. Zero had mined details about Orcus these past few days that I never knew I needed. And if anything she said about Orcus was true, he was easily impressed. "Ready to do this?" I asked, allowing Heath and Archer the opportunity to back out while hoping they wouldn't.

"I'm always ready," Archer answered, yanking his signature black hoodie over his head.

"It's been a minute since I've been in one of these." Heath pulled his black cassock from the box his brother, Andrew, had overnighted to us.

"And you look so fucking hot in it." Lust flashed in Archer's eyes. I knew I'd been a cock-blocker while being cooped up in this shitty motel room for two days, but we had very little time and dozens of things to accomplish.

I shook my head and grabbed the keys to my rental car from the counter. We didn't want to risk being exposed, so we opted for renting the most basic car we could find on the internet. "Make it quick," I said, surrendering to their needs with my hands up before shutting the door behind me on my way out. The sounds of moaning bodies slamming against furniture carried through the thin walls of our room.

My cock perked up, a reminder of how long it'd been since I last got laid. Now wasn't the time. Down, boy! I closed my eyes and exhaled a shaky breath, trying desperately to keep my urges at bay. No fucking luck. I spotted a trail leading to a canyon of trees next to a small wooden shed, so I gave in and marched to find a hidden spot to jerk off.

I leaned against a tree, glancing around to make sure nobody was around before unbuckling my belt. This was a bad idea, but I was in dire need to come. It'd been a while since I'd fucked someone—I couldn't even remember when or who the girl was— and the girth of my cock showed it. My cum-leaking dick stuck out of the waistband of my black underwear, its swollen tip as shiny as the frenum barbell piercing on the underside of the head of my shaft. After unbuttoning and unzipping my pants, I freed my cock from its confinement. My dick pulsated, bouncing off my lower abdomen, leaving a trail of sleek pre-cum. "Fuck," I moaned when I cupped my balls. This wouldn't last long. I spit onto my other hand before fisting the base of my hard-as-a-rock cock.

My strokes started slowly, building rhythm. I preferred to edge, sometimes lasting for hours, but with my carnal desire to blow a load paired with the lack of time, a fucking quickie would have to do. I hovered my mouth above my dick, lining my lips over the tip, and spit on the head. After mixing the saliva with my pre-cum, I slid my fist up and down while twisting the head to lubricate the metal barbell. Goosebumps blanketed my ink-covered arms. My whole body tingled, my legs shivered, and the urge of my impending release coursed through me. "Too soon," I murmured, slowing my frantic jerking to last longer than sixty seconds.

I squeezed my balls in my lame attempt to prolong the pleasure, but in my current stage of desperation to bust a nut, the effort was wasted. Jesus fucking Christ. I was about to explode. I rubbed my cock harder and released my hold on my sack at the same time. My breath hitched; my lips hung open while I gasped for air. My vision blurred when my eyes began to roll. Almost there. I groaned, bucking my hips forward as I spilled all over the ground. Jets of white, jelly-like spunk shot feet away from me as I fist-fucked my cock. I continued stroking, milking every last drop, riding the pleasure until the very end.

Once somewhat recovered, I leaned against the tree for support, the bark biting into my back while I relished in the bliss of my quick but well-needed release. I flicked my semen-covered hand before wiping it on the tree.

Still sporting an erection, I was tempted for another round, but chatter from afar carried through the trees, so I rushed to pull my boxers up to avoid getting caught. Not that I cared. I'd been caught in a much more compromising position before and I didn't mind being on display.

Archer and Heath were waiting outside the one-story motel room when I came out of the woods.

"Well, that was quick," I said. There was no way they could do it—I glanced at my watch to check how long I'd been out of the room—in three minutes.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Archer winked, nodding toward my pants instead of answering.

"What?"

"Might wanna take care of that before we leave."

"Take care of what?" There was no way he could tell.

"Your fly is still down," he said, grinning.

"Fuck you!" I said and marched to the car.

***

"Orcus will be at the Route 18 Roadside Diner at exactly six a.m., he'll order biscuits and gravy with his coffee, and he'll sit at the northeast corner of the café, where he'll have his back against the wall, facing the door. He'll finish his breakfast by six fifty-five a.m. and exit the cafe by seven a.m. That fucker is a creature of habit."

Zero's voice from last night replayed in my head. And as predicted, a black tinted Suburban SUV pulled in at six sharp.

A text from Zero pinged: Good luck.

I lifted the newspaper in front of my face while keeping a close eye on the newcomers. One by one, the doors opened, except the rear passenger side. Three guards packing Glock 26 handguns, wearing military fatigues and black V-neck shirts, perused the perimeter. One of the guys waited next to the closed SUV door, and when the driver nodded, he pulled the door open, revealing our target.

Excitement coursed through me. I lived for moments like this; the stalking of my prey, the danger, the adrenaline. All of it.

The bell above the door rang when all four men entered the café. They walked with purpose toward where Zero had anticipated. The series of events followed the script to a T, and I couldn't have asked for a better vantage point. The booth where I sat provided enough of a view of Orcus without being too obvious. And because the café was located along a busy stretch of US Route 18, patrons like me didn't stand out like sore thumbs.

At six fifty-five exactly, Orcus finished his breakfast. Five minutes later, he stood and flopped a hundred-dollar bill on the table.

"See you next Monday," the waitress called as his entourage exited. None of the men in black, including Orcus, responded.

They marched to their SUV and, once they were gone, I fished my phone out of my pocket. They just left, I fired to Archer and waited two minutes before hopping into my rental parked at the back of the building.

The number of cars driving on the state route diminished the further we drove away from the closest town. Discreetly tailing the black SUV onto a secluded road, they suddenly came to a halt, blocked by a car with smoke coming out of its hood. I parked the car, keeping a close four-car-length distance behind the SUV. It's showtime.

The driver and the other guard from the passenger seat climbed out of their vehicle and inspected the obstruction. "What the hell is going on here?" the driver loudly asked Heath, who was wearing a black cassock and standing next to his smoking car. "You're blocking the damn road." He peeked under the car's hood, his hand resting on the holster of his gun.

"My apologies, son," Heath said, extending his hand. "You don't happen to know how to fix cars, do you? Because I could use some help right now."

The driver appeared unaffected by the plight of a priest. "No, I don't, but I need you to get out of our way."

"That's a shame," Heath said, discreetly reaching into his pocket.

At that maneuver, a dart whipped through the air, hitting one of the other guards, who had joined the driver next to the car, in the neck.

"What the fuck?!" The driver whipped around; Heath grabbed his hand, tugging him closer, and plunged a syringe into his neck.

Once the two men went down, the rear door of the SUV opened. The remaining guard jumped out of the vehicle, his gun pointed at Heath. A gunshot cracked the air, hitting the guard's wrist before he could fire. His gun fell to the ground, and he dashed toward the driver's seat. Two more shots were fired from the tree line, hitting both tires on the driver's side. Air hissed out of the punctured wheels.

"Oh shit!" The guard glanced at the backseat of the SUV, sweat dripping down his face that was etched with panic.

Archer, wearing his signature black hood, emerged out of the woods with a gun. Orcus tried to pull the open door shut, but Archer yanked it open.

Heath tackled the last guard to the ground, twisting the man's hands behind his back then restraining his wrists with zip ties and stabbing his neck with a needle.

"Get the fuck out," Archer ordered Orcus.

Orcus hesitated, but Archer grabbed his arm, twisted it, then pointed a gun at his face. "Okay, okay," Orcus acquiesced. He reluctantly crawled out of the Suburban.

"Hands on your head," Archer demanded.

"Who are you?" Orcus asked.

"We're your long-lost friends."

"What do you want?" I'd give it to Orcus: he seemed composed and collected for someone being ambushed. "Name your price." They were all the same, thinking money could save them.

"I don't fucking need anything," Archer barked, pushing down on Orcus's shoulder, forcing him to kneel on the ground.

It was my turn now. Archer and Heath had played their parts, the rest was up to me. "Hey!" I yelled. "What's going on over there?"

"None of your fucking business!" Archer yelled. "I'd keep going if I were you." He waved his gun toward me and the empty road behind me.

"I don't think I can do that," I countered carefully, inching closer to Orcus, to save him.

Archer fired a shot near my feet, the bullet ricocheting in the air. "Next one is in your head. So go the fuck away!"

I lifted my foot to step forward, but the sound of crunching rock caught my attention. A cold, hard metal brushed the back of my neck.

"I'd stay where you are if I were you," Heath said behind me.

I had to give Archer and Heath props for their performance. I shouldn't be surprised. I better step up my game. The success of this mission now rested on my shoulders. I raised my hands in surrender, letting fear etch into my expression. "Let's not make decisions we'll regret," I said.

"I ain't regretting shit," Archer said. "Go on." He pointed his gun toward me, then to the car we'd rented using a bogus name. "Leave!"

"Just let us go, okay?" I said, nodding.

"Are you one of his men?" Archer pressed the muzzle of his gun to the back of Orcus's head.

Orcus was cracking. His hands trembled and he stared at me with a pleading desperation, as if begging me not to leave him.

"No," I answered. "I don't know him."

"Really?" Heath huffed. "You're willing to die for that loser?"

"Who said anything about dying?" I swiftly turned to face Heath, disarming his gun-holding hand before coiling his body into a chokehold. I had him in my grasp; one arm wrapped around his neck and a gun pointed at his temple. "Drop your weapon," I ordered. "Or the next bullet scrambles your buddy's brain."

Archer hesitated, his stare bouncing between Orcus and me, never dropping his act. "Fuck," he murmured.

"Drop. It!" I repeated. I stepped closer to Orcus and Archer, dragging Heath with me.

Slowly, Archer bent over, his sight never leaving mine until he was kneeling. He dropped the gun on the ground behind Orcus when Heath and I towered over him. I kicked the pistol, which slid under the SUV.

Archer reared back and threw a fistful of dirt in my face. "Goddamn it!" I loosened my hold on Heath. It didn't hit my eyes, but I pretended it did; our orchestrated scheme was playing out beautifully. Heath elbowed my stomach twice to free himself of my hold by throwing me off balance. Wincing, I drew my gun from my waistband and fired shots at Archer.

He moved with eerie agility, ducking and weaving to evade the bullets. My shots were wild yet calculated, striking perilously close to Archer. The ammo was blank and he was wearing a bulletproof vest, but blanks could still hurt him.

Orcus took advantage of the opportunity: he stood and ran away.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Archer grabbed Orcus's shirt and yanked him back into a hook punch, which knocked the cult leader out cold.

We paused for a second, glancing at each other, while Archer checked the unconscious Orcus. "He's out," he mouthed.

Heath extended his hand to help me stand.

"That fucking hurt," I said, rubbing my ribcage.

"My bad. Gotta commit though," he explained with a shrug.

"I get it. Now get outta here before he wakes up."

"Sure you're good?" Archer asked.

"Yeah, I got it from here."

"You know how to get a hold of me," Archer said.

Once certain that Heath and Archer were gone, I carried Orcus's sorry ass to the back seat of his SUV, scrutinizing his unconscious guards on the ground as we passed. I doubted The Reaper and The Priest even broke a sweat taking out this pitiful detail. If this was what I was up against, I shouldn't have any problems getting Oliver's family out of his cult.

"Mmm," Orcus groaned. He must've recalled what happened before he blacked out because his eyes popped open.

"You're okay," I said, waving both of my hands—front and back. "They're gone."

"Umm … what? How?" Orcus asked, appearing disoriented.

"I took care of them. They're not coming back."

He peered out the window and the fear on his face was replaced by disgust when he saw his unresponsive men. I didn't blame him.

"Is there someone I can call for you?" I asked. "Can I take you somewhere?"

He didn't answer, a response I'd anticipated. "Who are you?"

"Toby." I extended my hand to shake his. There was no way I was telling him my real name, even though the likelihood of Orcus knowing my past was slim to none.

"Orcus," he introduced. "I owe you my life. What you did …" He hooked his thumb outside before continuing. "Your bravery is admirable."

"Nah." I waved him off. "Anyone would've done the same." That wasn't true. People were selfish cowards. They would've looked the other way or run the moment they were faced with the decision to intervene. My adopted parents did. They did nothing when I was suffering. They made me feel like it was my fault. Bile coursed through me at the reminder of their neglect, abuse, and manipulation. I would never fall for that again. No one would ever have power over me.

"I highly doubt that." Orcus shook his head. "Are you from around here?"

"Nope. Just passing through, looking for some adventure."

That must've been what he was hoping to hear. His eyes sparkled; I could sense his mind spinning. He flashed a sinister smile, and I knew I had him where I wanted him. "Actually, I could use a ride if you don't mind."

"My ride is back there." I pointed to my nondescript car.

Orcus grabbed a black briefcase from the floor of the Suburban before jumping out of the vehicle.

"What about them?" I nodded in the direction of his men.

"Leave them. They're worthless."

***

Amid the encroaching shadows from the lush giant trees, the compound loomed like a fortress of dread. The imposing concrete wall extended as far as the eye could see. Barbed wire lining the top of the wall glinted malevolently, and if you looked closely, electric wires were hooked to the iron rods keeping them upright.

"Where did you learn to fight like that?" Orcus asked.

I had anticipated that question. "Oh, you know, life. Gotta do what you gotta do to survive out there," I answered coyly. "You learn how to fight when you're all alone."

Orcus beamed, unable to hide his excitement. "No family?"

I shook my head.

"Friends?"

"Nope."

I slowed the car as we approached the compound, my sight fixated on the four leashed rottweilers, black with tan markings on their faces, wearing spiked collars. They barked incessantly, drool dripping from their mouths. Two guards holding AK-47 rifles raised their hands, interrupting our progress.

"Whoa!" I whispered. "Is this where you live?"

We stopped before we arrived at the gate, but the guards' demeanor changed when they realized who was sitting in my passenger seat. Without a word, one of the guards looked up at the watchtower and raised his thumb. "Should I drop you off here?" Please don't say yes.

"Can you stay a little? I might have the adventure you're looking for."

"Stay here?" I pointed at the gate.

"Yes. I'll make it worth your while."

"Sure," I answered nonchalantly. I didn't want to sound too eager. "I can stay."

"Good." Orcus nodded. "That's really good."

I held my breath as the metal gate opened. In seconds, I'd be inside the target's territory. All that was left for me to do was find Oliver's family and get the fuck out. This can't be that easy, can it?

"This is the Central Compound," he said. "North Compound is that way," he added, pointing north.

Inside, the compound was bizarre. A group of women, all dressed in identical attire that seemed to swallow any hint of individuality, moved with disconcerting uniformity. They walked in rhythm, heads bowed as they shuffled silently between buildings in the closed-off complex. The occasional murmur of hushed conversations paused when they spotted us. What the fuck is the deal with this place?

Orcus whistled, summoning some of the guards, who, by the look of it, were there primarily to be imposing figures of intimidation. "Send a couple of men to Route 18 to pick up the others," he ordered. Similar to the men manning the gate, they didn't utter a single word. He nodded down the dirt road. "Keep going in that direction," he instructed once we were alone. I hated following orders from anyone who wasn't paying my bills, but for Oliver I'd play along.

As we navigated through the utilitarian community, the cult's purpose and its leader piqued my curiosity. What drew these people here? What bound them to this weird routine? What was keeping them inside? How was Orcus as a leader? Our drive took us onto a winding path that led us away from the center of the community, deeper into the heart of the woods, where a large old structure stood.

We drove past a faded Restricted Zone sign. "What's this place?" I asked, studying the buildings and looking for familiar faces. Oliver's family had to be here somewhere.

"It's a safe haven for people who are tired of the chaos and lack of order out there in the world. People who are looking for a fresh start."

"Oh, I like that," I lied.

"You can stop here," Orcus said, facing me. He studied my face when more armed guards approached our car, pulling our doors open. "Can I trust you, Toby?" he asked. Stupid question. Like someone would ever say no to him, in this place, surrounded by dozens of men with guns.

"Yes," I answered with a reassuring nod. "You can trust me."

He was thoughtful for a second, appraising me, and I wished I could read his mind. "Well then. Welcome to The Creed—our safe haven." He squeezed my shoulder before hopping out of the car. "You'll love it here."