Survival is Crucial

The Reticent Raconteur

The crackling of a fire and the blank expressions of the two men surrounding it, their caramel-colored skin shining against the light of the fire in front of them. One of the men wearing a ponytail, the other one sitting across from him having a crew cut. The long-haired one gulped down a pool of saliva sitting under their tongue, his jaw shifting back and forth to add something in the monotony that is waiting out here in this wooden jungle.

The long-haired man sighed, "Are we allowed to stop speaking English now?"

The short-haired man tightened his jaw, "Whatever floats your boat, we'll be going back to speaking English though once we've made it back into the city."

"Por que estamos na selva?" The long-haired man asked, scratching his right cheek.

"We're out here so that we don't raise suspicion."

"Quem se importa! Ninguém iria foder com a gente!"

The short-haired man pursed his lips, "Not the citizens, nor the police."

"O que?"

"They got assholes surveying the entire city and they know our faces," The short-haired man pointed to himself, "We're wanted after all, and they know we're a part of the Escravos."

"Não poderíamos simplesmente entrar em uma guerra total com eles?"

"We'd drag citizens in if we did that."

"Quem se importa com a porra de civis."

"The instant we aggravate those citizens, that will become the instant that the Escravos will not be welcome, okay? We can cause a storm, but if we cause a storm too early, we'll be getting everyone who does not need to be involved, involved."

The long-haired man clicked his tongue, poking the fire with a random stick he had found on the ground, "Estou cansado de toda essa situação de generosidade."

"No choice in the matter, we take care of that guy, we get the fruit."

"O que torna essas frutas tão valiosas?"

The short-haired man looked to the trees, "Those fruits are worth way more than the bounties that those bastards have on their heads."

"Não faz sentido, man!"

"Doesn't matter, we get those fruits, eat 'em, sell 'em, doesn't matter, but either way we'll get something out of it."

"Você quer comer?"

"It's gotta be worth something, figured that it'd be the most delicious thing ever if it's worth as much as it is."

"Você gosta de comer muito."

"Can't blame me." The short-haired man's stomach grumbled, a disappointed expression coming across his face.

Hours passed until morning came, the short-haired man waking up before the long-haired one and had already put out the fire, sitting down on a log right next to the long-haired man. The short-haired man took a deep breath, blowing air out of pursed lips before indulging more in the environment's air around him. "What to do...?" The short-haired man looked over to the long-haired one, spitting a wad of saliva next to him as a pitiful attempt to wake him up before standing and kicking him.

The long-haired man groaned, "f**k! O que você está fazendo!?"

"We're heading into the city, they're arriving soon."

"Hey, do you think the recompensa will be alive by the time they get here?"

"The question is whether they'll be here at all, so, if they aren't in a few hours, we leave back to Brazil."

"Hey, Turon."

Turon raised an eyebrow, looking over to the long-haired man, "What?"

"Por que não podemos falar Por que não podemos falar português na Colômbia? na Colômbia?"

"They can still somewhat understand us."

"f**k you."

Turon pressed his lips together, "Come one, let's go Alceu."

Alceu got up, stretching with a long yawn coming out of his mouth before fully standing up.

An hour later, they found themselves near at sea, saltwater slamming against a limestone dock, the discolored yellow, the shining sea as the sun hung over it. Both of them took deep breaths of the sea around them, Alceu making a sour expression due to the horrid smell that lingered in the air while Turon welcomed it. They could see the cruise ship arriving over the horizon as it inched ever closer to Colombia's packed docks riddled with those almost succumbing to hunger and others who were either working helplessly and or walking and buying food with their families.

"The sound of the sea is comfortable."

"They'll think we're tourists if we keep speaking like this. We'll stand out, so let's go and talk in português now?"

Turon sighed, "You're annoying me."

Alceu clicked his tongue before sitting onto a box nearby, "Can't believe we're doing this s**t because of a fruit."

"We'll also get some recognition from the boss."

"Whatever! I don't give a damn!"

Turon took another deep breath, "We'll still get some semblance of pay Alceu, so calm down."

"What!? A fruit!?"

"No, we get actual money." Turon rubbed his fingers together, "Got it?"

Alceu had a smile on his face, "Oh? Why didn't you tell me that earlier?"

"Still not worth risking our lives. But it's our jobs."

Alceu began whistling a tune with joyous fervor.

After a few more minutes of waiting, the cruise ship docked. People around the ship look at it in confusion, children becoming terrified, or even some being impressed while Alceu and Turon had already hidden themselves somewhere, watching closely for anyone they could recognize while guards who were already examining the area began to approach. Almost immediately after a staircase touched the dock, Nixon went down it, two guards following behind him as another group of guards led him into a warehouse.

Alceu chuckled to himself, whispering out loud, "They're coming out like ants."

Turon gave Alceu a disgusted expression before focusing back on the guards that were pouring out from the ship, some going back and forth onto the ship, then back off until Maxim is dragged off the ship, hands bound as he is pushed into the warehouse as well, Marshall following behind him with a collection of guards as well. "Ain't that Maxim?"

"Shit... how the hell did they?"