Strip me down. Great.

“Strip him down for papers,” the man decides. Your back stiffens. The idea that being naked in the forest didn’t vibe well with you, not to mention there was no telling what they would do to you after they found nothing.

The only bright side you could conjure up was the fact Scarlet had all the papers detailing your contact… Where was Scarlet? Your eyes darted to the figures around you, trying not to make a show that you were looking in the tree line.

The man shifts, however, and starts shouldering his weapon. “Strip.”

“Seems unnecessary, doesn’t it? My contract has nothing to do with you guys.”

“What is your contract?”

“Private. I can’t go around telling everyone what issue I’m working on. It doesn’t live up to the beginning part of my job description,” you make sure never to look away.

“And listen,” he says. “I can respect that, but as you may imagine, around these parts this time of year, it's not worth the risk.”

“As a contract, you might relate to the issue of reputation,” you keep your voice level, but figure it’s not going anywhere. “And me telling what I’m doing out here or stripping naked in front of a dozen strangers in the cold might hurt my client pool.”

“A bullet might hurt you a bit more,” he says.

You nod, discarding your gloves at a reasonable pace. And, within a minute or two, you’re down to your underwear. You curse when you straighten your back in a presentation. The girl in the back whistles. “He looks clean!”

Unlike some of the others you were currently employed with, you had no evidence of being a regularly employed contract for a specific company or group. You spin around almost mockingly to the others. You wave your hands. “How’s that? Convinced?

“Hardly,” says the man. “We found two guns here. Where’s your partner?”

“I’m alone,” you say, earning a raised eyebrow. “I gain nothing from lying. The second gun was a recent purchase for possible replacement. Those M16 rifles are light— handy and can poke targets pretty far.”

Everyone around you had bolt-action rifles, but something told you they were familiar with an array of weaponry, so you didn’t explain further. “Let’s just take’em back to camp,” says the girl in the back. “If he’s got a shadow, they won’t be able to do anything about it, especially if we’re just keeping him locked up.”

“A possible shadow is why we shouldn’t keep him lingering. Could be working with the Syndicate,” the man says. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the Syndicate.”

“Familiar with a lot,” you say. “Elaborate?”

“Get dressed. Fall in. We’ll talk more at our camp.”

…

…

Where was your shadow? You had to think, weren’t you totally alone with 30+ armed foot soldiers? This wasn’t a regular outfit looking for Amara’s runners; this was a federally funded search and destroy-party. And when you’re taken to your tent, you see the extent of the group you’re held hostage by.

You’re grilled loosely, but you’re suspicious of their friendly behavior. A guard remains with you while you are alone, but when it’s nightfall, you are protected by two men instead of 1. Around 2 am, just as you’re drifting off, one of the guards prods at you.

“So,” he says. “What do you know about the Toymakers?”

“I hear they’re brats,” you yawn. “But nothing much.”

He laughs. “Seriously, what do you know? No one else is out here besides us and the Toymakers.”

“I am serious. I’m on a case that’s unrelated to you and this business you’re in. Seems pointlessly dangerous for you guys to be out here if you still haven’t found anything.”

The man lols his tongue over his lips. “There’s no way you’re just a regular contractor out here. So you better start spilling before I start spilling you out.”

Suddenly both of the men stand up. One of them pulled out a long blade from behind his back. You stand up to meet him but step back to keep your distance. “Alright, calm down, Charlie.”

“Shut up!” The man snaps. “I’m tired of freezing to **** out here on this damn manhunt. Tell me where your pals are, and I’ll keep myself from gutting you!”

“I already told your boss you got the wrong guy—“

A sudden gut punch sends you wheezing, but you duck under the second punch. “Grab him, John!” The man with the knife says. “Cover his mouth!”

You keep him at bay with a few well-placed kicks and almost squeeze out of the grip of the second when someone else comes in.

“What is going on here?!” A high but proud female voice barks out. “Get out! Both of you!”

They exchange a few words before finally filtering out. The shoulder checks and curse at her as they leave. You don’t recognize her face, but you know her red hair. A natural fire-y color catches the color of the flames in the middle of the tent, which keeps you warm.

“I’m sorry about that,” the girl says, keeping her distance from you. “Everyone is on edge. You’re the first sign of literally anything since we’ve arrived.”

“I get it,” you sit by the fire and exhale. “Who do I owe my thanks to?”

“Janet,” she says. “And you’re Warren, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She smiles. “I suppose I ought to ensure you don’t run off now, right?”

“I’m not crazy enough to go out in the dark without my gear or bearings.”

“Fair enough, but I wouldn’t want to be responsible for any corporal punishment in the camp,” her eyes went to the flap entrance and closed it. She steps back and throws a log in the hearth. Sparks rocket out but blink as the cool air meets it. “Is it a secret? What you’re doing out here, I mean.”

Janet sat across from you and had her hands out in front of her, now ungloved and stretched. Her skin is pale. Unlike the Tiger Cubs and other contractors, you’ve been with, she looks pale and a little more scrawny than nimble. Her face was small too— you wouldn’t say she was underfed, but she looked narrow, a little fox-like with her high cheekbones and slanted gaze. Her nose was pink, but it highlighted the freckles peppering her features like a confusing puzzle. Suddenly, her eyes closed, and she sneezed. You realize you’ve been staring at her wordlessly. The color of her eyes comes to view again, and this time, you acknowledge they’re dull green.

“I can’t say,” you look back at the fire. She pouts.

“Fine,” she says. “Keep your secrets. But now, when this awkward silence comes in, you’ll be extra guilty.”

“Nah,” you say, and she says nothing… and nothing… and nothing…

Whatever Janet wanted to happen doesn’t work. And when that happened, she started to look at you with an expressionless face, which in all honesty, was more effective than the silent treatment. You let a few minutes pass before cracking.

“How about we just talk then? Find a bit more about each other.”

Janet’s face comes to life with a friendly but not perfectly straight smile. “Don’t think I won’t try to pull your secrets out of you while we talk.”

“I’m well aware of what you’ll try.”

“So then. Do I get to go first?”