Ciac's Lair

Coyotl didn't know how it felt, honestly. But he knew he felt safe in that place. Safe, secure, and wanted. Loved, he dared to think. Fox was a hard and cold man. Calculating. Manipulative. Sociopathic, even. He'd seen how cruel Fox could be, but never once had he turned his cruelty on Coyotl. And the young assassin was sure that that meant something.

He grew used to the collar's weight, to the tag on the front of it and the boxy little device at his nape. It became part of him. The collar, and his place in the organization. Fox's right-hand, his living knife, a tool to be used for every sort of problem. His employer had a very particular and effective style of management. He'd send out Coyotl, a silent and terrifying message, and he'd let everyone know what happened to people who crossed the Fox.

The first time Fox contracted him out to another organization, it was to the newly-formed Leoz cartel, just over the border in San Luis Río Colorado. They'd reached out to Fox for an experienced hand. He'd provided Coyotl's. It was a test, the young assassin knew. He'd be in a potential rival organization's den, but Fox was keeping an eye on him through the collar.

The Leoz Cartel's compound was a fortress, a massive, sprawling complex with multiple out-buildings and warehouses, and the main compound was an enormous villa, a massive home built in a sprawling, rambling style. Antonio Leoz, the boss of the cartel, had a dozen bodyguards and was an older, dark haired man, with gray at the temples. His face was lined with age and his eyes were cold, and his lips had a cruel twist, like he was just waiting for the chance to inflict pain.

He eyed Coyotl with interest. "…You sure you can trust him?" Leoz asked Fox, looking at the young killer with narrowed eyes. "He's young." The two were standing on either side of a desk. "He is young, yes." Fox nodded and glanced over at Coyotl, and their eyes met. Coyotl looked down, and he heard Fox snort softly. "He is my creature, Antonio. He's done well so far; I believe he can step up to a job this… difficult." A glance down at the map that Antonio had laid out. It showed the villa of one of Antonio's rivals. It had a layout, sketched by an informant.

"A rival?" Coyotl asked, glancing over. It would be a brutal and difficult infiltration, but he'd done worse, he was sure. He could manage, and he had to, if he wanted to prove himself to Fox.

"A dead man," Antonio Leoz growled. "My younger brother, Diego. We disagreed over the direction the cartel is to take, and he went to ground. I need him to stop breathing." "Family can be trying," Fox said dryly, his eyes meeting Coyotl's.

Coyotl nodded, his lips twitching. "So… do I need to make it look like an accident, or do you want people to know exactly what's going on?" His fingers tapped the side of his thigh. He had a knife strapped to his leg, and a gun, just in case.

"I don't care." Leoz growled, and he looked over at Fox. "…I'll give your dog a try, but I'm sending a handler of mine with him. As insurance." He reached into his jacket pocket, and then he drew out something and slid it across the table, towards Coyotl. A leash.

"Put that on." A jerk of his chin to the collar around Coyotl's neck. "Go on, perro. Aaron here will make sure you get where you need to be." He gestured to the side, and Coyotl looked to see who Antonio had indicated. A serious-looking cartel captain, looking fit and solemn. The kind of man that could have easily been a cop in another life. The kind that could easily kill him in this one, if he made any wrong moves.

"I'm no--" Coyotl started to snap. But he paused and looked to Fox, his eyes meeting his. There was a moment of hesitation. "I…" Fox nodded, just a tiny incline of his head. "Nngh…" Coyotl didn't fight as 'Aaron' attached the leash to his collar. He felt a flash of shame, a stab of guilt and pain and humiliation. It was degrading and painful. It hurt to have to do that. But Fox wanted him to, and that meant that he would.

His cartel handler looped the braided leather around one wrist, as cool and collected as ever, as if this was just another task. "This way." Aaron headed for the door, the leash pulling tight. Coyotl stumbled, almost tripped, and then followed.

"Good luck," Fox called. His tone was even, smooth, almost smug. The sound of it followed Coyotl out the door and down the stairs of the villa.

The walls were thick enough that they were well and truly out of earshot before Aaron spoke up. "Fucking dog." His tone was low, and he snorted softly, his hand tugging the leash to keep Coyotl walking. "Fox's personal pet, hm?"

Coyotl grit his teeth. "Fuck. You."

He felt a sudden jerk on his neck as the man pulled him back. "What was that, perro?" He growled, his voice dropping to a low hiss. "I thought dogs knew better than to speak to their betters." A sharp yank, pulling Coyotl towards him, and the man's eyes were narrowed. "Mira. Listen, doggy." He paused. "You are Fox's property, yes. Not mine. I have orders. I can't touch you." A pause. "My job is to make sure you kill Diego. Once that's done? Then I deliver you back to Fox." Aaron's eyes glimmered with something, an anger that Coyotl didn't quite understand, didn't know how to parse. "And if you fail, perro…? You better hope its because they killed you. Because I will not be so merciful." Another yank on the leash, pulling him up so his face was pressed to the door. "Do we have a fucking understanding?"

"Yes," Coyotl gasped, struggling against the pressure of the leash on his throat.

"Yes what?!"

"Yes sir," he hissed.

o0o0o0o0o

"I take you out to Diego’s compound," Aaron told him, the two sitting in the front of his truck, a large black pickup that was so stereotypical that Coyotl almost had to laugh. The man's fingers had tightened on the steering wheel as Coyotl sat next to him, his eyes hooded and his shoulders slumped. "I give you a radio. I wait until the lights in his villa go dark. You go in. You take care of him, and then you come out."

"You won't come in with me?" Coyotl asked.

"Outside support only." The man shrugged. "If you need me, you call for me on the radio, I'll do what I can. But we contracted out so we could cut a loss. You die? We haven't lost anyone from our cartel." A glance, and his eyes glittered. "You can handle that, can't you?"

"Yeah, sure. I can handle myself," Coyotl said, rolling his eyes.

"Of course you can," the cartel enforcer muttered.

Coyotl didn't respond. They spent the rest of the trip to Diego's villa in silence.

Aaron parked the truck a ways from the villa. They'd wait for sundown, and then he'd drive a bit closer, letting Coyotl slip out under the cover of darkness. But while the sun was still up, they had to sit. Coyotl felt a nervous sort of anticipation well up inside him. Aaron had water, and some cheap trail mix, and he ate some of it, munching quietly. The older man just stared at him.

"What the fuck does Fox see in you?" The cartel enforcer muttered, and Coyotl bristled, his shoulders hunching.

"What does your boss see in you?" Coyotl dug some dried mango bits from the bag.

"I'm a soldier, perro," he muttered. "I've worked up the ladder, fought and bled. You're a stray dog that Fox decided to keep around for his amusement. So… why?" He paused, and Coyotl saw his eyes drop to where Coyotl's fingers were digging into his bag of trail mix, toying with a bit of mango, and Aaron sneered. "Oh. Oh." He snorted and leaned back in his chair. Coyotl's cheeks burned and his fingers clenched on the bag. He didn't respond. Didn't rise to the bait.

Aaron shook his head. "That's disgusting. He's fucking a kid. Fucking a stray."

"I'm twenty--"

"And he's almost forty, perro." The man sneered. "Don't be naïve." Coyotl glared. "I'm not!"

Aaron just smirked. "I could call Fox right now, you know." His fingers went to the phone.

Coyotl tensed. He could kill him, he thought. Grab his gun, blow the man's head off. Or… or slit his throat. He could take the man's keys. Drive the truck back. And then… then do what? Explain to Fox how he'd killed his cartel handler over fucking petty-ass insults? No, he was going to have to sit this one out. "Just shut up," Coyotl muttered, looking away. "I think I have a pretty good idea of what Fox sees in you." "What."

"He sees his little bitch, his pet, his toy. His little slut. Someone who will do anything he wants, because you're afraid of being abandoned. You're scared that Fox will just leave you, if you don't play along. Isn't that right?"

Coyotl swallowed and looked out the window. His face felt hot and his fingers clenched.

Aaron's lips curled. "Yeah. That's it. And that's why you'll do what you're told. Why you're going to walk into that villa and kill Diego. You don't have a choice. And you don't want a choice, do you, boy? You'd rather someone else call the shots."

Fuck, you, fuck you, fuck you, I'll kill you, I'll fucking KILL YOU. Coyotl grit his teeth, and he glared out the window. His hand was so tense on the bag of trail mix that his fingers were shaking. He wanted to grab the man's throat, wanted to strangle him, wanted to--

He had to calm down. Had to take deep breaths, had to remind himself that if he did this, it'd be fine. Don't get worked up, Fox'll see it on your collar, just, take a deep breath. Don't do anything stupid. Just do what you're told. It's fine, it's FINE.

It took time, but he slowly got himself under control. Aaron's words didn't sting, didn't bother him anymore. He's just trying to get in my head, he's trying to fuck with me, he's trying to make me mess up, he's a fuckin' prick, he's an asshole. Probably wants me to get myself killed, so his cartel won't have to pay us. Well, I'm not going to fall for it. Fuck him, fuck his stupid opinions, I don't give a shit about them.

"How much longer until sundown?" He muttered, after the long pause had dragged out into a silence.

"A few hours."

"Fuck." Coyotl sighed. "I'm going to take a nap."

"Go ahead, mutt. Try not to dream. I don't want you whining and scratching in your sleep."

"Go fuck yourself."

o0o0o0o0o

Aaron watched the little bastard roll onto his side in the passenger seat, reclining the backrest as far as it could go. He was sleeping, the little prick, sleeping, while Aaron was stuck sitting here, waiting for sunset. The fucking gall.

It was an insult, having to work with this little perro, a stray, a stray that had no business being involved in the world of real cartels, not when he couldn't even stand up to a couple of jokes. He was soft. Stupid American kids, they were all the same. Weak, pathetic, pampered. He'd seen what happened when people like that tried to join up. It was a waste. Fox had better make damn sure that Senor Leoz was getting a fair deal. If not, there'd be consequences.

He checked his gun, and the backup ammo he had on him, and he waited. The little bastard slept, his face slack and peaceful. Aaron almost envied him. Almost. But the time came, and he roused Coyotl with a rough shove to the shoulder. The boy snapped awake, his hands coming up in a defensive gesture. "Wh-what? Fuck, what the fuck is--"

He blinked. "Wakey wakey, doggy. Time to go."

"Fuck off, Aaron." He sat up and stretched, rolling his shoulders, and then he opened the passenger side door and hopped out.

o0o0o0o0o

He slipped the villa grounds under the cover of darkness.

Aaron had dropped him off on the edge of the villa's property, near the fence, and Coyotl had scaled the fence and then darted towards the building, keeping his body low as he moved. A hand-held radio with an ear-piece was his only real link to backup. His hand brushed his throat as he moved, feeling the collar.

If something happens to me, Fox will know. He could picture his mentor, periodically checking the vitals monitor on his phone back in Leoz's villa, tracking his movements, keeping a remote eye on him…

How would Fox feel if he saw Coyotl's vitals fade? Watched the heart-rate stutter and stop, and the breaths cease? Would he feel anything at all? Don't be stupid, he chided himself. You have a job to do. The villa was close now. There were guards posted at the front door and the side door. Coyotl knew how to handle that, though. There were two guards on a balcony overlooking the gardens, but he was in the shadows. The windows were the way in.

Diego's room was on the third floor, on the side facing away from the villa's front doors, which would give him time. If Diego was sleeping, he'd be easy. If not? Coyotl had a gun. The plan was to kill Diego and then get the hell out.

Halfway up the wall, he had to pause and take a moment to catch his breath. His fingers and toes hurt, his shoulders and thighs ached. The villa's stone walls were hard to climb. The sun had long set, but Coyotl felt sweat dripping down his neck and his back. I have to keep going. Fox needs this, Fox needs me, I can't…

The quiet crackle of the earpiece in his ear startled him, and he nearly fell.

"You on your way up, doggy?"

Coyotl hissed through his teeth. "Shut up," he growled, quiet. "Yes. Climbing."

"Hurry it up, perro," the man muttered. "You're wasting time and Leoz wants his brother dead." The connection clicked closed and Coyotl's fingers dug into the gaps in the stones.

“Asshole."

The climb took another five minutes, but Coyotl was able to make it. He caught the ledge with his fingers and hauled himself over. He crouched on the stone railing, his fingers brushing his throat again.

Diego was sleeping. The man's chest was rising and falling with a soft snore, and the moonlight filtered in from the balcony. Diego was lying face-up in his bed, and he was definitely asleep. Perfect. Coyotl pulled himself off the balcony rail, his fingers drawing his knife from his pocket, and he unfolded the blade. It was sharp enough that Diego probably wouldn't even wake.

Coyotl's feet landed on the floor of the bedroom and his eyes narrowed, and he paused, tilting his head, listening. Nothing but Diego's breathing, and a soft, faint whistle of wind. The balcony was still open. He hadn't closed it. Good, Coyotl thought. Easy exit.

Diego's breath stuttered in his throat, his eyes opening, and his head jerked to the side, catching the movement of Coyotl moving. A moment, a flash, a single second of realization before the blade slid between his ribs, puncturing his heart, sliding through his pajamas, and he let out a soft gasp of air. "What…?" He gasped. "Why…?"

Coyotl didn't respond, and his knife twisted, severing arteries and shredding the organ. He stabbed three more times, making sure that Diego wouldn't be able to do anything. The older man slumped in the bed, dead, and Coyotl staggered back.

His radio clicked, and Coyotl hissed as Aaron spoke. "Well?! He's dead?"

"Yes." He whispered the word. "He's… I'm coming back down."

Coyotl turned to look at the balcony, and he froze, staring, at the figure in the doorway. "Fuck." He staggered back, his eyes widening. It was one of Diego's guards. A man dressed in a black t-shirt and black slacks. He was holding an automatic pistol, and, he looked furious.

"Mayday--" Coyotl managed, and his voice was soft and terrified, before the man charged. "Fuuuck…!" He yelped, and his arms went up as the man slammed him to the ground. His head cracked on the tile, and his hand dropped his knife, reaching for his gun, but he couldn't reach it in time.

"Tch! I can't get you on the third floor, perro! Get out of there!"

Coyotl's hands shoved against the guard's chest, and he struggled. "G-get off--" he grunted, trying to push, trying to fight. "Get-" His knee came up and drove between the man's legs, and he heard a gasp of pain. The guard jerked, and Coyotl shoved again. "O-off--"

The guard stumbled, and Coyotl rolled, reaching for the knife again. His fingers were slick, and it was Diego's blood that covered them, made them wet and warm and sticky. It was Diego's blood that made his hand slip when he reached for his gun and Diego's blood that smeared on his cheek as he'd wiped his sweat away with the back of his hand, but he grabbed his knife and slashed.