“Yeah, tell me that again.”

    “You are better off shoving your filthy mouth out of my face, dear. I’m not doing some farm husbandry here.”

    The fingers of Banan delicately typed away relentlessly on the keyboard, completely ignoring the complaints. Was there a way to take pests without using any toxic chemicals? Sure. But she enjoyed the nonchalant verbal attacks, especially for those that she felt displeased with. Just like the fiery redhead looking at her with a smug face. Being apart from the main commonplaces, the cold and sterile office of the lead manager of the 17th was one of the very rare calm realms left there. And that was matching the stern, diligent personality of the manager herself, Banan. Looking at her computer’s screen while ignoring her guest.

    “Look, I’m not asking you to get me a whole set of weapons, but how do ye’ expect me to work without some nice materials? Yer’ need to start taking this work seriously, don’t cha’ think?” Fanny poked the weak point of the lady in charge of managing the division.

    “If I didn’t, the ones like you would be chewing more than they can really afford.”

    Banan felt some tickles on her hair, and arranged her hijab tighter. She kept clicking away. The screen would only show the text only files of the members recently torn to pieces, making sure to delete them. There was no need for notifying about it or any confirmation, but only to click Y repeatedly.

    “Just an extra crate.”

    “No. You will get your part when the next regular crate comes in.” It may be routine, but every routine would eventually get old.

    “Beh.”

    The management lady rested her back in the chair, leaning comfortably. Her hands gesturing a “go away” towards Fanny. The redhead got even comfier on the cheap plastic chair. I’m asserting dominance. That is what the Irish girl was trying to imply with every inch of her body, crossing her legs and prepping her hands behind her head, adjusting her knitted hat on the way.

  “Get out, for real. I have to report and talk with the new face.”

    “Make me go.”

    Before the one sided argument could allow itself to continue, a few knocks came from the door. Banan took one file of the pile beside her keyboard.

    “See, I have a job to do. And I presume you have some to do too, don’t you?” Banan put her working glasses down. “Go on!”

    Chamán entered the room and looked at it for a second… before he became frozen. He didn’t recognize the redhead in black clothes, but his jaw dropped in the presence of Banan.

    “Emmy? Is that you?” His figure was bigger and somewhat bulkier than both of them, but his confused puppy face made him look vulnerable, but was thankful for the mask and sunglasses to cover his emotions. Upon a silent gesture, he ventured further. “Sorry, I mean… You didn’t like that name, right…”

    “It is fine. Please, take the seat.” Banan put her glasses back and gently smiled at Chamán. “Good to see you are in one piece.”

    “Hum, since when…” He mustered a bit, waiting for Fanny to leave the chair as leisurely as she could, with a smug smile on her visage. “Excuse me.”

    “Oh, no problem, big guy.”

    Even Banan looked at the untamed Fanny to meekly get away from the chair with surprise all over her face. One second later, she was back to her computer, the same moment the door was closed behind the fiery girl exited the office. “I’m going to kill you.”

    “What.” Chamán was surprised at the sudden threat. “What did I do now?”

    “Oh, just kidding.” She smiled at him. “Just need you to sign these copies.”

    She handled a folder with a few papers. Chamán loomed over them, and barely read a couple of the lines before signing them. “This is it?” He got somewhat flustered looking up towards her. But if he had mentioned something of their past, there was no other available outcome than her just denying it. One muted sigh left his lips. “No questions?”

    “I already got all the stuff answered before you came. Supplies, time of stay, reason.”

    Talk about efficiency. They certainly cared about the bureaucracy, but not so much about the quality of life of the mission, whatever it was. Banan got the papers back on the folder, diligently put them straight with one thud on the table, and smoothly turned her chair to the wall in her back, where the physical archive resided. Humming, she started to roam back to the K named files to put it back.

    “Hm. I guess then I should head back and get ready for that expedition for the new member.”

    “New member?” Banan looked at him. “We don’t have anyone new coming. Not that I know of.”

    Chamán shook his head. “Well, that is what the old guy said. Some new leader to help with the training. They are sending some guys to greet him, and I feel like I should be part of it. You know, some recognition mission.”

    Banan rested her fingers over her lips. She looked genuinely confused. “Well… the old guy always forgets to tell me when we get new people, his head is not really here since years ago… so could be the case I didn’t get informed. Although, that is a rare thing because the high heads are used to send me information of the incoming individuals beforehand.”

    “So you are aware of all the members?” That was something that spoke a lot to the discord between the skills of different officials in the division. “You are still a big brain, getting such a load of information and not letting anything slide easily.”

    She corresponded his smile and admiration. 

    “Thanks. But don’t butter me up too much. You are only going to stay for a bit, as usual.”

    “You are welcome.” Chamán bit his lips for a second. “Anyway, where should I head to charge my gear?”

***

    Chamán wished he could just stay some more. Even if he knew the same feelings of the past could never be reborn, he felt at home for the brief moments in her office. Something that was hard to say about the dirty halls towards the second floor. Almost abandoned, since the main structure and usable rooms were condensed in the first floor and the basement, where the dorms resided. Whoever had that idea, certainly didn’t care about the members themselves. His steps echoed every single time.

    It was chilling. Not only that, there were windows. Actual, clear and visible windows, both intact and broken ones. The scenery of snow and nature of the outside, contrasted the sad halls filled with debris and graffiti. Somehow, it made it look like it was some forgotten university in the middle of the mountain. Who would reside in that miserable side of the building? The good thing was how easy it was to spot the door he needed to enter for his gear.

    I guess someone’s not really beloved around here.

    A cardboard with a crude drawing of the redhead beanie girl being crossed in a red thick ink line, with clear intentions to keep her out of there was hanging in the door. On top of it, another said “Storage”. Chamán did secretly want to know the reason under the ban of the girl he had just seen. But somehow guessed people would not want to even bother to begin explaining. He firmly brought a fist and knocked on the door.

    “Yeeeeh?” A snorty voice came out from it. “Who is it?” It sounded the person on the room was not in good spirits.

    “Name’s Chamán.” George did his best to make his best impression of the kind of cool guy he so much wanted to be, even after his initial failure at the office. “Coming for some heat.” He leaned on the door to secretly listen if there was any juicy discussion before that. However…

    “Nay, is the new guy, shithead is trying to sound cool. Kaiku izugarria.”

    He didn’t understand the last part, but he didn’t need to. He frowned and straightened away from the door as it was open. Some smoke came out from the room. A bespectacled woman appeared and made a gesture with her thumb for him to go in. The same girl that he saw shitting on the work he was put on to bring the new member. Not only that, but the other “volunteers” were there.

    “Good morning, pretty boy.” The Nazi uniformed girl with the look of a princess was loading a couple of UZIs. “What is it, first time in a Division, hey?” Clearly, Chamán had made a hard to disguise face of disgust at looking at her. “They don’t care about their numbers, as long as they get numbers.”

    “I just noticed.” Keeping his cold, he scanned the room. The cheerful looking young guy was seeing him with some respect, however. He wondered if he was as innocent as he looked. Seeing such different people so close to each other was damaging his own rational sense. “How come you guys are not killing each other?”

    “We just simply hate fuck each other.” The girl responded. “My name is Elizabeth, pretty boy. But you can call me Eli. And the meatbag is Emil.” He took the hat of his uniform and made a formal bow. “He is a squint and a twink that goes both ways, but he is well hung and useful at moments.”

    “Hey. I’m also smart.” Much despite protesting, Emil was certainly a meek and relaxed person. Also, it was strangely reassuring seeing the other girl acting according to her clothes, or so he thought. Otherwise, the agent felt his brains would fall off.

    The room was full of lots of boxes, each one providing a different weapon and ammo. On the center, a packed table with a mess of cables, guns, scattered ammo and as it was distractedly pushed away, an insane amount of explosive matter ingredients and bombs midway in the making.

    “Hey, idiot. What do you need?” The glasses girl was chilling against one of the storage racks, drinking from a wine bottle. She seemed to be the owner of the storage. “Don’t be like these sloths and get your stuff at once.”

    “That is how you treat your clients?” Emil joked.

    “I wish you were clients instead. Serving you for free is a pain in the ass.” She snorted. Chamán tried to read her expression, but her devious smile and her lost glance was too odd for him to decipher. Her odd and large beret working with her messy hair covered most of her face, anyways. “What is your job, narco?”

    “I was planning to go with you to grab the new coach. Making sure that person is safe to come in.” Not a few seconds after uttering that, all of them busted laughing. “What? Did I say something funny?” His voice was modeled to sound rough and serious, but didn’t make any difference.

    “Great. More disposable protection for us.” Eli smiled. “What a pity, don’t you want to get some of this body before you are blown up?”

    The missions of the Division were usually dangerous, and they were elites. Meaning they had more than a couple of months there at minimum and they were still alive. But was it really so hard for newcomers to get into bloody tasks without dying in the process? Either way, he couldn’t retreat so easily. His reputation, and his pride, felt somehow hurt. After all, he was trained from a young age by the best of the best. His father was a legend, so there was no reason that after his own career and past hits he was less than some guerrilla socks with no previous experience could achieve.

    “Hey, stop being a whore for a second here, fucking German.” The girl in glasses loaded a couple of guns and put them on her jacket. Then directed her sight towards Chamán. “Listen, txikitxo, and let me be clear about something. You came to the right place to get your grabs, but you cannot come and just act cool as if you were the boss when clearly there are some nuts loose from your pants. If you want to stay out of trouble, know your place.” She proceeded to grab an assault rifle and some knives. “Will this satisfy the little boy?”

    Chamán took them in silent. Then...

    “They will be enough to smash some of any annoyance, I’m sure.”

    “Okay, keep roleplaying, I actually don’t care. All of you, grab your things and fuck off. I need to finish some work.” The girl took a sip of her bottle and Chamán left the room.

***

    A familiar faint noise of buzzing lights. The painted yellow and white walls. Wooden tables. The feeling of the cafetería was the one you would think of a high school one. Rowdy members were lining up for some of the finest slop available and so they were gifted with.

    Directly served from the guts of the kitchen’s sink. Chamán felt unable to find a spot to sit after getting his portion of gross nutrients, so he stood with his back leaning against the wall, trying to assert dominance. As much as he was able while he had to put the nasty food beneath his mask, making it store more of the putrid smell.

    But of course no one seemed to give a fuck about it. Everyone just was on their own, discussing how particularly terrible the menu looked that day, or about the shameless orgies some of them organized to pass time around between massacre and briefing.

    When he managed to gulp down half of what was meant some kind of bread with butter, that was of the texture of bubblegum and the flavor of a hundred rats passing thorough the shelves, he heard a faint thud on his side. His inexpressive skull ski mask looked towards it, and there she was.

    Fanny, looking at him. She was not as far from his own height, so their eyes met almost instantly. The primitive instinct of running away kicked in. Was it possible he didn't notice before how dangerous she was? His insides started to tremble at the piercing green eyes.

    “Hello, yer' handsome fella.” She was smiling in a very soft way. If it was for her looks alone, she didn't seem as different from the other members.

    “Hello.” He responded with feigned dryness.

    Just like a puppy would, she cocked her hear. Some of her curly hairs fell on her face, and she put her hands on her back, making a pose of curiosity.

    “Yer' have some big balls, do you? Coming to this place voluntarily.”

    “What about it.” He put some more food on his mouth and chewed. “Are you part of the expedition for bringing the new coach?”

    Her smile curled in a grim devilish expression.

    “No. I don't associate with the low barking dogs.” She let her own back to lean on the wall. “Elite is just the fancy name for those that are not torn into pieces withing some days. But in the end, they are the monkeys for running errands of worse danger. I have more self-stem than that.”

    “Then you must be an expert.”

    “Nay. I came her just barely a month ago and I am so bored. I got a nice workshop and I just stay there pretending to work and all of that.”

    Members wasting resources for nothing of use, check.

    “That is not good.”

    “Oooooh. Don't come at me with the nice city boy morals of the greater good or team working. This is just a hellhole, surviving is the prime goal. Is not just a fucking goat farm of dirty motherfuckers tryin' to commit the violence ordered, but a nest of the criminals that just ran away and need somewhere to stay if they don't want to end up in jail.” She looked at the people and signaled them with a thumb. “Folks her' are just a stash of leftovers from a zoo kept together, and you guys wanted us to play fair and nice? That may be true for those higher cocksuckers in CIA and military forces, but we here are not that. We are just doing what we can. With what you guys get dignified to send us.”

    Oh, c'mon. I didn't came here for a reality check. If they wanted so bad to not end up in jail, then why would the best option to come to a paramilitary operation to begin with? They really are really not for the best interest of any country.

    “Yeah, well, maybe you guys should fucking do what we say and you would get better food and resources.” He finally spouted.

    Fanny's emerald eyes opened.

    “Oh, fuck, we have a thought guy here. I bet you are popular with your bosses. How many centimeters of your ass have they opened? Oh, wait... should I ask how many inches?”

    She is danger.

    “Maybe I should fuck your own ass to learn some manners.”

    “Kgh.”

    Fanny laughed and went away. Chamán felt something dying inside after saying that. If there was a thing that sucked from his work, was to confront people. But he had to pretend he was a strong character for his own survival. 

    In the end, I'm not too different.

    But is not time to get cuddly with anyone. I have to get more intel on the operations and this catastrophic division if I want to go back from this shit hole.

    And so, he started to walk toward the exit, passing thorough the dust and debris, where the “Elites” were already giving him a nasty look for making them wait.