“We’re almost there!” he shouted over the howling icy winds.  “We’re late for the party,” I say.  Being almost a week late and needing to travel 562 miles in two days, took all the pressure off the guy who was trying to prevent a global catastrophe.  We were supposed to get here a week ahead of time to be able to plan confidently.  Justin looked grim.  He face was pale as if a ghost had replaced his soul on the plane.  He glanced at the driver and ordered, “Turn right into this Taco Bell drive through.”  Really?  We come all the way from Mexico to Russia to have more Mexican food?  The truck slowed to a stop at the window.  A few minutes later, we all had a burrito of our own.  The burrito didn’t sit well in my stomach.  Then again nothing did when you were facing death.  The plan was even more hazardous than the previous one.  The car started making grunting sounds and it slowed to a stop.  Justin got out, his eyes clouded with fear and confusion, went around the back and started unloading the car.  I went around to help him, only to be confronted by a gun stuck in my face.

“Justin what are you doing!” I gulped.

“It doesn’t matter now, Escobido will be here shortly.” Justin beamed in a perfect Mexican accent.

The clouds above us started to fray and a sudden booming sound pierced my ears.  As the dark figures came into visibility, the whirring sound got louder.  Once the mist cleared, the two stealth helicopters had become visible, positioned on both sides of our van.  Roberto and Pyez stepped out of the helicopter on the right, walking towards me shoulder to shoulder.  They stopped twenty feet away from me and stepped once away from each other, to reveal, Escobido.

Escobido, a cruel figure, scars in several places, was dressed in black clothes, and glasses that read on the outside, “Keep calm and eat burritos”.