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JACK · **09-29-2014, 05:27 PM**

For every man and woman we manage to save, we lose twenty more.

As much as we'd like to save everyone in the world, they either let the world around them eat them whole or just kill themselves trying to make a difference.

The refugees we've tried to save have been shot down or have been absorbed by the very same faction that they've tried to destroy.

It's a shame.

Maybe in that lower middle class house of yours, everyone gets exactly what they want and no one has any faults, except for you, you special snowflake.

You aren't proud of your family's lifestyle and behavior, and we can understand that.

You don't like the Hidden Order and what it stands for, and we can accept that.

You like mocking our appearances by saying that we look like pieces of shit covered in gauze wrap, and we are completely fine with that.

Mock all of the men and women we try to save from the oppression of corporations like the Westboro Baptist Church, any faction that encourages slavery to shell out more products faster, or even victims of assault by various biker gangs and tell them they don't exist, then we have a problem.

We all have our faults and there are some things that are out of our control, but we can at least attempt to make a difference, even if it fails.

For example, you can attempt to let go of the booze that you hold and life might change for the better.

You won't, because you're shackled to it like the many victims of crime stereotyping, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't try.

Maybe then you might be able to accept what we stand for...

...and your probable fate on Wednesday.

When we last left off, Caleb had his father murdered and his dog shot in the head within the past day. Needless to say, he hasn't been having the best day of his life. Now he finds himself in Mexico, where he resides in a very shitty house in a dark room with what feels like twenty eyes staring him down. He is shifting in his seat since none of the men even try to talk to him. He coughs uncomfortably, trying to signal someone to speak first. It doesn't work. After thirty long seconds, Caleb takes a quick breath in, causing all of the strange men to lean in to listen.

Caleb: So...can any of you tell me what's going on here?

The sounds of all twenty of the men lean back in their seats.

Jack: Clarify what you mean by that.

Caleb: I mean, who are you? Where am I? And why cant I see any of you?

One of the men lets out a small laugh at Caleb's expense before answering his questions.

Jack: You are in one of the very few hideouts of our little group that hasn't been raided by police or gangs yet. You should already know exactly what country we're in. That also ties in with the third question you've asked. We have to keep the lights off in this house for no one to identify which house in Mexico we're in. Hence why the camera is only pointing at you and nothing else in this house.

Caleb looks down at the small little webcam recording him and the ongoing conversation. He waves at it in a friendly fashion before having his hand shoved down by one of the twenty men.

Jack: As for our identities, we cannot disclose many of our true names on camera. For now, just call all of us Jack.

Caleb can't help but raise an eyebrow once hearing that sentence leave the man's mouth.

Caleb: So, I should just call all of you Jack? No sort of secret hand signal or code name to tell everyone here apart? Are you sure that won't get confusing at any point in time whatsoever?

At this point, another man speaks. This one has a higher pitched voice, sounding natural enough to where it doesn't sound like he inhaled helium or filter it in any kind of editing software.

Jack: That's the point, really. If we go by code names or have obvious trademarks on us, we'd be easily identified by the police or anyone else trying to take us down.

As soon as that man finishes speaking, a deeper voiced man picks up where he left off.

Jack: This should also explain why we're dressed up the way we are. If we remove our disguises at any point in time, we will be exposed and be sentenced to death.

Caleb: I can understand that, but why mummies? Surely there has to be a much less complex costume you guys can wear.

Just then, a much more feminine voice speaks to him.

Jack: There are, but none of them would cover us completely. Besides, with this outfit, all of us have the same body type, making it hard to separate us from the rest of the group.

Caleb raises an eyebrow.

Caleb: Still, how am I supposed to tell all of you apart? By the sounds of your voices? I don't think that'll be enough for me to distinguish you from everyone else.

Then, a voice that sounds like Brandon Whittaker with a voice distorter addresses him calmly.

Jack: Then look at their wounds.

The kid looks straight ahead towards the man who spoke to him with confusion.

Caleb: Their wounds? What do you mean by that?

Jack: Exactly what it sounds like. Many of the people you'll meet in this group here have some form of injury. Look around and examine their bodies. You'll be able to identify everyone with ease that way.

Caleb's eyes move around the scene while looking around the table, trying to get a good look at everyone; including the leader. After looking at the people around him, he snaps his look right back at the man who spoke to him, which just so happens to be the leader.

Caleb: Well I'm sure some people's wounds have healed already. How can I tell people apart if they don't have anything wrong with them?

A scoff can be heard from the man behind it all.

Jack: Notice the bloodstains on my bandages. One on my head and one across my left leg. That should be enough for you to figure out who I am. Take a good look at the others once this briefing is over.

Caleb nods his head in understanding.

Caleb: So, what do you need me to do, exactly? Dress up like one of you and take someone out?

Jack: Not really. You're going to be doing something different, actually. Think of it as your initiation mission for the Order. We want you to scout out an abandoned factory that might just be home to Mexican drug cartels. We hear that they are holding many families hostage because one family member is a client of theirs that didn't pay up in time. We want you to check up this address.

A small scrap of paper is handed to Caleb, who analyzes it carefully before placing it in his back pocket.

Jack: And just in case everything in our plan goes wrong and they spot you, use this.

Caleb is then handed a small handgun. He absolutely refuses to take it at first, since he refuses to resort to that level of violence.

Jack: This world takes no prisoners. It's either kill them or they kill you; and I'm sure you don't want them to kill you.

After much hesitation, Caleb takes the gun that has been passed down to him. A holster is also passed to him so he doesn't somehow shoot himself while the gun is in his pocket or something.

Jack: Best of luck to you. May you service the Hidden Order well.

With that, the scene cuts to static.

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