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Info
Delacruz
Author:Wynths
Word Count: 3369 words
This is a little page I've made to commemorate the CI Wiki's anniversary! I hope you enjoy it. To see more work like this, considering checking my stuff out from either the Backrooms Wiki or SCP Wiki :)
As always, thanks for reading!
Image is Norway, from author Patrick Nouhailler. It is CC BY-SA 2.0
Soy el jefe de jefes, señores
Me respetan a todos niveles
Y mi nombre y mi fotografía
Nunca van a mirar en papeles
Juan Trigueros of the Cross removed his earbud and looked down at his black Air Forces as he found his way to a forgotten, weed-overrun home on Eastress Road. The man at the porch opposite the house saw him, hoodie drawn up in hot shame and October chill, hand fiddling with what was undoubtedly an overlong switchblade, and smirked bitterly. He too looked down at his feet, old and bare and veiny, and he prayed for the boy's soul — calling out, scaring him away, doing anything concrete was too risky for the veteran coward. And the boy walked across the cracked sidewalk, past the barking huskies and German Shepherds, past the shade of the massive, wild orange tree.
Juan T., known to his friends as Nores, came to the threshold of the driveway, shin-height speargrasses tickling even through the paint-stained carpenter jeans. It was insane to think that this was the center of everything that mattered in this Godforsaken swampland. How could such a thing be? He fought the urge to pull his burner phone out his pocket, and simply relied on the midnight memory of the anarchist tryst. He wiped his sweaty, slightly pimply forehead with the back of his hand, and thought.
[Why do I need to do this? To what do I owe the vatos on Signal and Telegram?]
It was a stupid question, but it made Nores, new inductee to an unnamed, anti-fascist group pause for just a moment. And he remembered the nights outside the backyard, when the glow of his phone was the light that kept his soul from being self-snuffed out.
[They saved my life. That's my debt.]
And all of a sudden, the will wasn't that hard to muster.
* * *
The porch of the overrun home was obviously lively at close-distance: a glow-in-the-dark garden gnome with a wiped-clean solar panel at the back, a verdant lil' aloe on the windowsill, a chromatic window covering. Nores waited a while at the front, then decided to take some action. In a quick motion, he took out the Pixel, inputted a 15-character password, opened Signal, and glanced at the pattern given to him by his contact, Salmon. 1-2-2-1-2-1.
He executed it on the door and window. Almost instantly, a man whose face Nores did not see opened it.
"Why does the Black Moon howl?"
"Because it's tired of melodramatic bitches."
The man laughed, and opened the door a little wider. As Nores entered, he got a slap to the back of the head. "You goofy, trying to change up the password like that."
Nores could only reply, "Am I wrong?" before the house absorbed his attention.
Nores loved pool, and the table at the center of the of the opening room — red-foamed, dark oak, fashionably homemade — was enough to his liking that he grinned even before seeing the faces of his brothers. A lean guy, leant against an open kitchen's granite countertop, was the first to greet him. He took off his white cowboy hat to reveal "blond" hair damn near the color of his off-blue eyes, and waved with it to Nores.
"Holy shit, dude! I was starting to think you'd never come!"
Even before Navy finished greeting him, the torrent of Hellos and Wassup's and Damn-Motherfucker,-Get-Here-On-Time's so overtook Nores that he put his hands up, surrendering to the wave of hugs that rushed him on the worn Welcome mat. For a brief moment, the people there felt genuine joy at bringing a Good One over the finishing line — then, with a brief cough from Navy, the boys scattered.
Nores took a good look at the place. It was spotless, but heavily cluttered, the floor shining light up onto stuffed counters and hoodies strewn across every chair-back in sight. There was a second floor, the opening to the unfinished, bare wood-and-little-bail steps crushed between a coat rack and a mostly-junk bookshelf. Nores didn't bother to wonder about wandering up there, although (like his fellow group members) he was always one to explore wherever he went.
"Alright, now we can get The Hour started." He said as he led the charge to a set of plastic foldout tables near the back of the home.
* * *
The light was warmer and lovelier here, as though even celestia itself was content with those eight or nine crazy bastards at the Chaos Insurgency.
The hour began with a quick acknowledgement of what had happened last meeting — a difference in thought-up action plans between Dorado and Serrano, an unfortunate bout of psychosis that the absent Myers was suffering from. This was conducted by the Speaker and noted-down by the Notetaker. They were rotating roles, and while it was technically Nores' turn to go, Navy decided that the newbie shouldn't have to suffer someone looking over his shoulder.
After well wishes were sent and little jabs exchanged between the two infighters, the meeting began in earnest.
"Remember y'all," the Speaker began, "Make sure to explain more than you got to, because Nores' still not familiar with everything, and we gotta make sure that he's all ready by next week, yeah?"
Distant "uh-huh's" indicated that this didn't need saying.
Then:
SUCK MY COCK IF YOU'RE READING THIS, YOU FUCKING FED.
— Dolores
At the Second Place.
Intro:
— Got to show the new guy around: he asks about the format, explained the point of the structure and how decentralized shit works. He wonders about other groups, explain the liaison structure and how only M can talk to other groups.
"Damn, y'all have this nailed down" LOL the fuck this guy think?? 🥹
AFTER:
— Get into last meeting's business: items and agenda. 3 burnings (MCD, SCP, TP CEO), 2 gunnings (SCP, SCP), good shit all around. Big Plan is still underway, waiting on ammo from G contact. All the other shit is ready, apparently.
— Explain to new guy how ops go. Seems to have some experience in dabbling, practicing. Nothing too much tho, just a couple forest fires. Might need training?
"So, we direct?" SON 😭
Back to agenda: small infighting[?] from new guy wondering why direct-only is best: reminded him of rules. no punishment, not how ts go. Explained MCD cap pigs to the guy as well, apparently wanted to act like he knew beyond jannies. Sucks to see ts but whatever.
— Small
— "Hey, Dolores, lock the fuck in!"
The guy in the corner snaps up, damn near at attention from the coldness of Navy's voice. Navy was looking dead at him, twisted around in his chair with a hand on the cowboy hat that he'd always rest on the hook under his off-center seat.
"Serrano was just askin' you man —" Navy began, then gestured at the amped-up guy leaning over the table, ashy knuckles hidden under steel-lined gloves.
"Wey, 'sta'amos 'ablando de ese janny que Myers vio patrullando South Post. ¿Vives pa' allá, no?"1 Dolores scoffed at the unspoken point, but he played along.
"Ya no."2 It wasn't the complete truth — he still went about South Post fairly often, letting his parents take him to the pupuserias around there after Thursday — but it was good enough. He hadn't seen anything.
The random heated interlude faded away, as they always did, with a tongue-click and a lean-back. Serrano let Navy take the meeting from thereon.
"So, who's gonna take lookin' out for it?"
A couple objections were thrown — "The hell d'ya mean look out for it man, we don't know what it is??" and "Navy, there isn't a chance in hell we'll be able to linger around without those guys seeing us do 'at!" — were raised. They were considered, and a couple retorts were shot back — "Man, you're gonna know a janny van when you see it" and "Take shifts or somethin', we can figure it out."
The guys figured it. Serrano quietly took the job of patrolling, Dolores more loudly said he could go with Serrano, and Nores, always the empath and always one to prove his own worth, said he'd get to Myers and see if he could get some pointers to the captive and comfort to his family.
"You up for that?" Navy eyed the fresh guy suspiciously — he could have put him to watch for the truck, the same way he did the guys who were either tired or still a lil' fresh, but Nores, of his own will, decided he'd do the most nerve-wracking thing: go right to the belly a'the beast.
"Yuh." The reply was simple, rock-solid. And Navy realized that, if he were captured, he could give away nothing except a group chat and an abandoned house.
"Fine then. But I'ma tell you after this how we gonna get you to Myers."
* * *
The Barr County Juvenile Psychiatric Center might have had a clean, slick lobby, but Nores knew not to be fooled by new TVs and spotless grid ceiling. Navy had told him about the stories kids brought out of here, and they were too terrible to bring to mind, lest Nores lose his composure at the oh-so-soft-spoken facade the woman at the counter put on.
Nores reviewed the information in his head as he made his way across the lobby from the glass doors. His name was Dack Carlisle, and he was a young but respected associate of the Mentors Program. He patted his pocket, checking without removing that he'd brought it — he didn't want to somehow look like he was unsure of himself. His mentor ID was… well, he was going to figure it out, apparently. Hopefully, Grace Hatmanu would be as negligent with that as she was with the kids' food and water.
"Hello, hello!" He tried his voice, making sure it was adequately deep and Southern.
"Hello, good sir." Grace gave a meek smile. "What's your business with us today?"
"I'm here to visit my mentee, Myron Bates?"
"Hmm…" Grace pecked at the keyboard, and saw that they did indeed have a Myron Bates. She looked back at Nores, and studied for a moment longer his smooth face.
"Well, just sign in here, Sir." She said as she judged him old enough for 20.
"Thank you." And Nores was sincere.
He was led to a "Room 190" by a "Arturo González", passing through halls that rapidly dimmed and rapidly shrunk as they went deeper into the complex. He asked if Nores was Dack's son or something, which gave Nores a bona-fide heat attack, but he evaded correctly and said that he was simply a friend of Dack's who went in his place.
"Oh, good." Arturo idly said. "Yeah, he didn't have a kid, dunno why I thought he did."
After a bit of walking, they made it to halls that were slightly brighter. A bit more, and they came to a sort of central hub, the hallways gaining windows that shone on a picturesque outdoor lounge. They went around three-quarters of the building, then came to a hallway with a sign reading "Visitor Rooms" hanging over them.
Apparently, all the Mentors had their choice of center rooms, but as the man at his side rushed ahead, Arturo had the sense that that particular bit of website info was long outdated.
"Alright, this one's good." The man said as he waved a keycard over an RFID reader.
"Oh — I was looking to go to Room 185?" Nores tried.
"Out of service — some piping burst in the ceiling, drenched the whole room." Nores' eyed the man, and saw his fingers brush against his pocket for too long to be coincidental. Oh, that's piping all right, Nores mused as he entered the cold room.
"Just make sure the door don't close on you. I'll be back with Myers in a second, alright?" The guard was halfway down the left hall by the time Nores could poke his head out to reply. He put his foot out, watching the door closer scream as its arm inched towards neutral. He looked around.
The room was gray brick, in contrast to the odd salmon-like color they'd had in the halls, and held two plastic chairs, a cart, and a desk. He looked up — steel grid ceiling, that was good for any emergencies that might present themselves — and down — blue carpet. He reached out and pulled the cart to the door, and let it rest there. He poked around at the bottom until he found a door, and saw what was inside.
A mass of cards and boxes presented themselves. Nores pulled out a couple of them — a rubber-banded pack of UNO cards, a box of regular cards, a chess set — and closed the door on the games. He imagined it'd be good to have a cover, but they were not going to be invested in the rook or the queen or the +4, that was for damn sure.
After an interminable, indeterminate wait, the guard returned with a thin, shaved-bald guy, his green jumpsuit and gray sweatshirt so comically oversized he would have thought Myers was a child if he didn't know better. Holy fuck, what happened? was what Nores wanted to ask, and he knew that Myers knew that.
To his credit, Myers took the surprise visit in stride. He perked up as he saw Nores' unfamiliar figure, and quietly said, "Oh hey, Dack, neat to see you." Arturo didn't bother to wait around — the second Myers recognized him, he bolted, and then the two of them were alone.
Well, not alone. Nores looked and saw a security camera a few feet away, at the fork of the road.
"Hey, Myers, good to see you too!"
They pulled the cart out the door's path, and waited until it clicked.
"¿Que está pasando afuera, wue?"3
"Nada, nada — el jefe fue preoccupado con vo', y me mando por mi primer Trabajo."4
Myers had been sorting out an UNO deck — his head shot up so quickly that Nores tensed, prepared for some sort of action.
"¡Ay, que gran puchica!-"5 Myers sighed, clearly cutting himself off from saying anything more. Nores took the UNO deck, and the both of them sat — Nores against the wall, Myers against the door.
"What got you worked up?" Nores said, realizing they could not be caught speaking in an entirely different language.
"Pues."6 Myers only got that far before he clicked his tongue and looked down at the gray desk. He paused for a long while before answering.
"I was told we were not going to have any new members because we were worried about infiltrators. I don't know what would get into the Leader to lie like that."
Nores narrowed his eyes as he began to distribute the 11-card Uno hand he liked to play.
"I was told that the Group needed lots more people."
Myers nodded gravely. "I don't know, then."
"But I still trust the Leader, probably just had some new shit come up."
Myers picked up the left hand that Nores dealt and looked it over. "Probably. Still, I don't like it — gotta talk to him 'bout that, because it isn' the first time he's made different minds, yes?"
Nores nodded, and began the game with a green 2.
* * *
"So, when do you figure you're getting out'a here?"
"Not fast enough. The doctora Hilda says she'll think about a release in 3 weeks."
"You know what, that's a hell of a less time than I expected."
"What makes you say that?"
"I was told you were fucking psychotic, man — 'cept I don't think so, because you playing and talking and figuring well right now."
"Oh."
"There a pro'lem?"
"I mean, there isn'. I just don't wanna talk about that, because that wasn't me.
"Damn, a'ight."
"I know he sent you for a better reason than a wellness check."
"He did, but he tol' me I was gonna 'figure it out.'"
"Hey, what'chu laughin' fo'?"
"It's nothing, it's just Navy being like that. He always like that."
"'Ight."
"But really though, he sent you because he wanted to know what the hell I did to get in this bitch anyways, so I'll tell you that."
"Wait, he dunno what you're in here for? Thought he would'a known."
"Look, Nores. I know we look like a strong, powerful group — truth be told, we still got allegiances to people. I know you don't — "
"Hey, the fuck you mean I don' got allegiances?"
"I mean that if you were worried for you' mama or papa, you wouldn't try to sneak in this hoe."
"Oh."
"Yeah, see? Look, I see you smilin' over there, I know I right!"
"And what if you are, kid?"
"Means I still got it."
"But that's aside the point. I'll let you know what happened.
"Okay."
"So, I thought my mom hadn't said anything about it, but. My brother got shot a couple days before I got into here.
"I see."
"Yeah — and I wanted to find out who had did it so I could pop 'em.
I didn' make a secret of that, honestly, my mom knew I was off tilt. But she didn't have time to worry about me. She had told me as much a bunch anyways. I got three brothers.
And, yeah. She was all worried, telling me that I couldn' change anything, that God wanted my brother up there and we should not be disturbing what God wants."
"Myers, what did you do?"
"Nothing, man! I wouldn't be in this fucking place if I did sum'n! Honest to God, I kind of wish I did just so I could go to juvie 'stead — at least I would be out by now."
"'Ight, 'ight — I was just worry for a second, the way you was talking made me think you found the motherfucker."
"Oh, I did!"
"Damn!"
"Yeah, and I beat the shit outta that kid bro, but even still, I knew he had to live. He didn't kill my brother, couldn't kill 'im."
"And he just took it?"
"He didn't know who I was, and I did all the basic opsec kind of stuff that they tell us to do. And I was fine."
"Damn. Okay, then."
* * *
"Motherfucker!"
"What? You thought I wasn't gonna use +4, vato?"
"God, that's annoying."
"Guess I pick all'at up… Game ain't lost, though."
"So, what else you come to learn?"
"Learn?"
"Yeah, bro! I know you got questions, you be all nervous and shit over there. What do you gotta know!"
"What's the actual… uh, lemme put it like this: how many motherfuckers you lose in C. I.?"
"Hm. I 'on't know. Probably lost like five. Over two years. Not bad."
"What you think about this Navy guy?"
"Man, I don't know shit about shit with that guy, man. I know he's real and that's all."
"We get fake ones? With all the bullshit-"
"-Hey, now, we do! I 'unno if you know that, but we do!"
"Damn, for real?"
"Oh my fucking God, hah! What'id you think?"
"Man, it's a lot of bullshit y'all do, though."
"It's like that saying: You don't know half of it."
"Hmph."
"So! Game over. I won, but that's fine, we can play sum'n else. What you thinking?"
"Speed? Okay, wue."
"Let me ask you this before we start: How long do you think you'll stay, Dack?"
"As long as I can."
"Even if it costs you more than a game?"
"Especially if it does."
"Hey, what'chu laughin' a-bout?"
"Oh, Navy's great at picking real ones."
"Welcome to the CI, Nores. I hope you have fun."
