It was more than just an interesting twist as she looked at the tattoo. She knew exactly what it meant, what it represented, and she also knew that if the tattoo was genuine, she wasn't the dangerous one, quite the opposite, just as César had said.
"You know César." She began with a small smile. "I never in my life thought someone would try to threaten me with a tattoo." She laughed again, this time genuinely, not forced, shaking her head slightly. "Group Four?"
"Well, it doesn't really matter whether you try or not… only whether it works." César replied with a faint smile, but there was a change… the knife was no longer in his hand.
It lay flat in the middle of the table, close enough that Sirina could reach it if she wanted to, and she understood immediately that it was bait.
Why would César place a knife there of all places?
Not in his hand, where the threat would be obvious and direct, but right in the center, within her reach, almost inviting. Any normal person would think… grab the knife, knock it away, pull the gun, end it. The setup practically whispered that option to her and that was exactly why it was dangerous.
It wasn't a bait meant to trigger action, it was a physical trap designed to attack the mind.
The knife wasn't there to be used, its presence itself was the weapon. César had created pressure without moving, without raising his voice. The human mind, desperate to regain control in a tense situation, starts inventing reasons, imagining outcomes, calculating risks that may not even exist. For some strange reason, one of those irrational tricks the brain plays, the knife felt more dangerous lying untouched than it would have in César's hand. If he were holding it, the threat would be clear, measurable, something she could react to. But left there, abandoned yet intentional, it sent a far worse message.
The knife, the calm smile, the way César didn't even glance at it anymore, and the tattoo visible on his skin all of it blended into a single statement. That reaching for the knife wouldn't be an act of bravery or surprise, but exactly what he expected. And that was the real bait, not the blade, but the illusion of choice.
So rather than being trapped in that maze of choices and outcomes, she chose to ignore it and take a different path.
"You know that tattoo could be fake." Sirina began, shifting slightly to the right, just in case she needed to move quickly. "You know when the government declassified Group Four, a lot of people, for some reason, started getting the same tattoo the operators had. Suddenly, it became a mark of bravery, even though Group Four was the worst of the worst special forces ever created."
"We weren't the worst." César said immediately, though he didn't answer the part about whether the tattoo was fake or not. He didn't even seem to care, because why would he?
He was part of it and it gave Sirina the vague sense that he wasn't lying, that he was really the part of it… though she needed to make sure of it.
So she quickly remembered all the files she had read about Group Four, all the atrocities they had committed, and began her way of making sure César was telling the truth.
"Oh, the special force that, rather than saving hostages, killed everyone. The special force that once raided the wrong house and slaughtered innocent people. The same special force that killed a diplomat just because he disrespected them. The same special force that, out of eighty missions, completed only one without leaving a single civilian casualty."
She shook her head slightly but kept her eyes on César, looking for any reaction as she recounted all the horrific things they had done… but there was nothing. Just as she thought… emotionless motherfucker, so she continued.
"Group Four… they were supposed to be what a special force should be. You'd think with that much training, that much power, they'd know better… but they didn't. They couldn't see the line between control and destruction, between strategy and slaughter. And that's the worst part. It wasn't incompetence, exactly… it was arrogance. They believed themselves untouchable… and that belief killed people." She sighed. "You know you shouldn't be proud that you were part of them."
She said it right that Group Four was the "Messenger of Death" for a reason… it didn't matter if you were a civilian or not, they killed whoever they were assigned to kill, and if you were near them, you died too. It was the type of special force that was almost impossible to imagine existing and operating… but it happened, because that's how the game developer designed it.
They had created a special force that was chaotic, but gave a rich background to a main chapter if the player picked it… and César picked it. He picked the one character that had the Group Four background.
"Maybe we made mistakes, but those mistakes saved countless lives." César answered, going by the backstory he had read and knew… though it was, truly a fucked up backstory, to say the least, but it gave him what he wanted.
Stats of endurance, combat intelligence, and readiness… everything a special force operator is supposed to have. Though it completely nullifies the emotional side and any understanding of right and wrong… that is exactly what he needs, to feel nothing when he kills and combining it with the whole cartel story, it makes him overpowered.
Not even counting the documentaries, movies, series, and real-life events César had seen back on Earth before he died, he looked at the way he had followed them, the cartel wars, the gang wars in the favelas, the mafias, the yakuza.
He had followed everything, and now it all came in handy, though maybe he had been crazy even back on Earth, but now, at least, it was useful.
"Huh… so you still say you were part of them?" she asked back. "You seem too young to be one of them, and honestly, I don't know the personal details of the operators since we weren't involved in the hunt."
"Hunt? It was more like hide and seek." César said, giggling a bit. "The SSF and the SMST were laughable with their strategy and only found a few of my comrades because they didn't even try to hide." He laughed even more, a genuine laugh this time, as he remembered the story of Group Four and how ridiculous it was. "Lupin was found in a bar, drunk as fuck. Horus was found in a strip club. And so on… every single one they found was either drunk, fucking, high on drugs, or something along those lines."
Yeah, it was like those operators, members of Group Four, had just completely given up. They didn't even try to hide from anybody, they enjoyed their lives until they got raided… no, it wasn't even a raid.
The SSF and the SMST went to kill them.
Maybe Lupin, Horus, and the others knew they would die. Maybe they were waiting for death to claim them. They had had enough of the life they lived… they wanted to rest or maybe they wanted to be punished in Hell for their sins, who knows.
Though one thing was certain, the reaction on Sirina's face told César that she got it… that she finally believed him, that he had once been part of Group Four. The reason was that César had named the Special Strike Force and the Special Military Search Team, organizations a person would only know about if they were part of some special group, as both were classified and secret.
And, more importantly, he had named two operators whose names Sirina recognized.
Moreover, the picture had finally become clear to her. The words and how he used them, how he controlled the flow, how he asked back, baited, and trapped her, how he changed the narrative, how he pushed her into the corner, the answers and questions, the threats… it all made sense.
Somebody who had once been the worst special force that existed could do this easily…but there was something more to it.
Something that would shock César and twist everything even further.