Fucking hell. Where was his sorry excuse for a partner? It was always like this; Badou went out of his way to look for the guy and he always got the short end of … everything, really.
The stick, the hammer, the fist. The end. That old Grandma had given them a new assignment—to search a compound for the whereabouts of some kids, and this asshole just up and disappears.
Not that you can really easily tie down a stray dog, but damn... he could try.
His boots echoed off the cold pavement, and he lit another cigarette, mindlessly glancing at the faces that passed him. They all look strained, hardy, or tough.
Faces that disguise, attached to beings that have probably never committed an honest act in their entire lives.
A billow of smoke exited his lungs as he sighed, and he felt the nicotine course throughout his veins. The red-head hummed in contentment.
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