Magnus takes a step forward beside Leon, bends down, and snatches the pistol from his hands. Without wasting a second, he trains the muzzle on the old woman and the child.
"No, please stop! I beg you!" the woman cries, tears streaming down her face.
Magnus pulls the trigger. Five shots crack into the woman's back. She goes slack, blood pouring down as she collapses over the boy.
"Move out of the damn way. You're messing up my aim," Magnus says, kicking the woman's body aside.
"Ahhh!" the boy screams, covered in blood, a bullet wound tearing his shoulder.
"If only that old bitch hadn't gotten in the way, you wouldn't suffer so much before I cut your life short," Magnus mutters as he aims for the child.
Hearing the boy's cry finally snaps Leon into action. He bolts forward, panic carved into his face.
"St—"
Before Leon finishes, Magnus fires. The bullet hits the child in the head. Time stretches and slows for Leon.
"No. I said I didn't want to do it. Why? Why does this have to happen to me?" Leon thinks, disbelief and terror twisting his face.
He stops, stunned. Magnus turns and drives a fist into Leon's throat, dropping him to his knees. Leon claws at his neck, wheezing; Magnus stands over him, eyes burning.
"Did nobody teach you the big three Fs, you pathetic eyesore? Huh? Answer the damn question!" Magnus roars.
He kicks Leon in the face, then snatches a fistful of hair.
"Look at my left arm! That's the big three Fs! That's what it takes! You complete the mission no matter what! Nobody gives a single shit about your morals! Feelings! Mental state! Not a damn thing!" Magnus screams, yanking Leon toward the bodies of Martha and Leo Sparrow.
"No!" Leon cries, looking away.
Magnus slams his knee into Leon's ribs, then slams his face down into the slick, reeking blood on the floor.
"Fahhh!" Leon gasps.
"Take a proper look, you damn worm! That's how you finish a mission!" Magnus spits, forcing Leon's eyes open and lifting his head to face the dead.
Leon's stomach twists, his toes curl. He chokes on bile.
"Please... stop," Leon moans, tears carving tracks through the grime on his cheeks.
"Oh, so now you want to cry? I knew you were a wet pussy when I first saw you," Magnus sneers, slamming Leon's head back down.
He kicks Leon in the ribs again and keeps hammering him as Leon lies there, bleeding and broken.
"If you want to fuck up our missions I'll beat the three Fs into you!" Magnus roars.
Leon spits blood, each breath a desperate rattle. Darkness presses in.
Beat it into me? I don't think I can take any more, Leon thinks as unconsciousness claims him. I wish they'd just execute me. This squad is a fate worse than death.
***
Leon wakes up in a cold sweat. Bruised and sore, he grabs at his stomach and gasps.
"Ahhh!" he yelps.
He pulls his shirt up. Dark purple and black bruises cross his torso and ribs like a map of pain.
"Fuck me. I've never been shot before, but this has to be close," he mutters.
He looks around. He's on the couch in Squad Bastards' base, the TV flickering in front of him.
"Wait. How or when did I get back here?" he asks, voice raw.
"It's been three days since we invaded the fortress," a bored voice answers from the kitchen. Raven sits at the coffee table, typing as usual.
"Glad you finally decided to join us on planet Earth."
"You mean… I've been knocked out for three days?" Leon asks, stunned.
"What? Do you really think that after Magnus beat you down anyone carried you back? You never passed out. Magnus stopped pounding you and left you barely able to move. You got up and followed the team back to base. Then you sat on that couch like a corpse and stared at the ceiling for three days," Raven says flatly.
"I… that happened? I don't remember. How can anyone move without being conscious?" Leon rubs his temple; his left eye twitches.
"Nobody cares," Raven replies. "Everyone else is on another mission. The fact that we didn't toss you on the street is shocking. Now that you're done sulking, get back to training. You were terrible on the Tony Sparrow job."
Leon turns to the TV. A news crawl at the bottom reads: TONY SPARROW DROPS OUT OF PRESIDENTIAL RACE AFTER DEATHS OF LEO SPARROW AND MARTHA SPARROW. A clip shows Tony Sparrow at a podium, composed but hollow-eyed.
"Oh," Leon whispers. "I guess our mission to break him worked. Someone has one less enemy in their way now. They're probably celebrating. This is so fucked."
He touches the dark crescents under his eyes. "Their names were Leo and Martha. I didn't even know their names until now—and they're dead. I watched them die."
Nausea rolls through him. He staggers toward the stairs, clutching his gut and his mouth.
"I make myself sick," he mutters.
***
Miles away, in a top-floor boardroom of a Los Angeles skyscraper, a thin, gray-haired man in a suit sits alone at a round table. A photograph of Leo and Martha Sparrow sits before him. He looks hollow, grief tightening his features.
"I tried to protect you with all my resources, and I failed. I should have been there myself. Presidential race be damned!" the old man growls, balling his fist.
"Sir, dropping out wasn't necessary," an assistant offers quietly. He places a tablet on the table. "Tony, the public still trusts your name. You could've won—"
Tony Sparrow stares at the photos. "You speak the truth, Jared but do you want to know why I left?"
Jared nods his head looking at Tony with concern.
"Last night, I couldn't think of anything but violence, homicide, war, destruction. That isn't a stable mind for a leader. Not now. Especially not in a time of war. I'm sorry but my worth to this country has evaporated," Tony utters broken.
"Please don't speak of yourself that way sir. You have been an inspiration to so many including myself." The assistant taps the screen. "We scoured the fortress footage. A hacker corrupted most of it, but in the building where your family was killed, we found one recurring figure. We traced movements—this man."
Images flash. Leon is running through a hallway, a photo from his trial, tags that show he was captured after blowing up an orphanage.
The assistant's voice is sterile.
"He's a convict. A war criminal. He was captured by the U.S. after that atrocity. How he ended up at the fortress is unclear, but we are ninety-seven percent certain."
Tony's face goes cold. He grips the tablet so hard that the screen cracks.
"So you're saying… Leon Abelof killed my family?" he asks, voice low and dead.
"Yes, sir."
Tony closes his fingers around the broken tablet until it snaps. Then he steadies himself.
"Fine," he says, each syllable an icicle. "I understand."
"What should we do?" the assistant asks, a hand hovering over the broken tablet.
Tony slams his fist into the table hard enough to rattle the photo of his family.
"Isn't it obvious?" he snaps. "We will make this Leon Abelof pay—by any means necessary."