“Mark! Havn’t heard a wawd all day!” Andres chimed, though he was not too pleased that it was his boss. He knew that if he showed the report as usual procedure, he’d most certainly screw himself over.
“Same goes to you, Director,” Mark growled. He always had a tone of perpetual anger, much to the apprehension of the Council and the data counters inside of V.I.C.E.’s Internal Intelligence and Records (IIR) office.
“Back outta the IRR now?” Inquired Andres. He checked his watch; it was 6:00 PM, and he really needed a drink. His eyes fell upon the report once more, as did the Chairman’s.
“How’s Suspect B? Anything important on that… Report of yours?” Mark paused snarkily. “Anything I need to tell the Council about?”
“Naw, it’s under control. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” Answered the Director.
“Well,” Scoffed the chairman, “It had better be. We’ve had some other… incidents, according to our operatives in New Mexico.”
Andres huffed and glanced at his watch once more, and exhaled, “Well…” He clicked his tongue slightly, almost in thought, “Look, there may have been things I didn’t expact, but you and the cowncil can leave Suspect B to me.”
Mark scoffed and growled, “I’ve seen the news; the reports have started to go up the East Coast.” He nearly slammed his fist onto the desk but paused and scoffed again, “Give another week or so, and this is going to go global. You had better be using our team to suppress the press, it’s all we can do since that footage got put on the Internet-”
“Do I look that stupid?” Andres chuckled, “Of course I did. I’m smahtah than ya think, Sir. But you’re right-about-it. But we’ve got the funds, we can handle it.”
“You’d better. This gets any worse, and your buddy the President is going to cut that funding.” Growled the latter.
The Director wasn’t pleased with the harsh words coming from his boss. Although they were only one position apart, Andres harbored a lot of jealousy towards his boss and had discussed his boss's retirement with Joel for the past couple of years. But to mostly no avail, V.I.C.E.’s protocol stated that the earliest Mark could retire is 65, but he was 5 years younger than the minimum. Finally, it was his decision after all; he could stay until he died for all he cared. And his co-worker, the director, was tired of waiting.
“So?” Andres inquired, “How ‘bout we go get a drink? Maybe somah that fancy whiskey of yours? We could talk more ‘bout the report.” The Director smiled slightly, almost a diamond-twinkle in his eyes.
“That’s not at all a bad idea.” His boss wore the usual wry smile. “We’ll use my office, it has a nice dining area.” He scoffed haughtily.
Andres glared slightly at him. Nevertheless, he rose from his chair and slipped the written report into a folder. He dusted his suit off slightly, but as he and his boss were about to leave, he glanced at a drawer next to one of his bookshelves. He paused.
“Hey, do ya mind if I grab my jacket?” Requested Andres, “I don’t want to spill anythin’ on this button-up.”
The Chairman scoffed, but nodded. “I’ll wait then.”
Andres calmly walked over to the drawer first to grab a tie and a couple of small, grey packets, which he slipped in his pocket discreetly. He grabbed his jacket, then walked to the office with his boss. Andrew’s plan had been set in motion.
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“When you said nice whiskey… You meant the Bourbon Harmony? Correct?” Mark questioned.
Andres nodded in response as Mark pulled the bottle from off the shelf and put four cubes of ice in two glasses. He set it on the table outside, the Potomac River flowing below. The dining area was attached to the right of Mark’s office, with a nice, sleek balcony, pristine dining tables, heavy-duty market umbrellas, a stove, several cabinets inside to store food, and a refrigerator.
Suddenly, a phone was heard ringing. The chairman grumbled as he checked.
“Pour our drinks, will you?” Mark asked sternly, finally answering his phone.
Andres obeyed. He removed the cork from the bottle and poured two small glasses of the Bourbon. But when he noticed that his boss was turned away, he opened one of those packets and set one of the glasses opposite to him and waited for his boss to return.
“Ugh. My son was calling again.” Mark growled sternly, “Whiny bastard. Asking me for dinner.”
Andres chuckled, “I wouldn’t know. Never liked the idea of bein’ set up with anyone.” He sipped his drink, glancing at his boss slightly.
The chairman huffed, “Anyhow, what about the report did you want to talk about…”
The Director smiled cunningly, “Well, you see… I have an idear.”
His boss scoffed, “Really? What could you…” He trailed off, then coughed slightly.
“You need a moment?” Andres inquired, starting to smirk.
“You… This is about my retirement, isn’t it?” Mark coughed again. “You jealous… Boston Bastard.”
Andrew smirked. “Now, now, Mark. That’s quite unprofessional, isn’t it?”
Suddenly, Mark slumped from his chair, muttering, “Go to hell, Andrew.”
The Director laughed, looking now at the lifeless body, “Like I said, smahtah than I look.”
Andres had done it. He had gotten his boss out of the way. No more snide remarks, no more having to ask the President, no more garbage whiskey on rooftops. Andres was on top of V.I.C.E.; his plan could now be put in motion.
“Two years of plannin’. And now, I can start doing what this moron couldn’t.” The Director scoffed, taunting the corpse,
“You never could connect with anybody. That was always my job. Doing all the dirty work for you?” He slipped on a pair of gloves and noticed the waterfront below.
“America’s river.” Chuckled the killer, “Perfect.” He lifted the body up over the balcony and turned away, not even bothering to watch the corpse plummet into the river below. He looked around, eventually finding some cleaning supplies to tidy up a small mess caused by the “meeting”.
One week later…
“Well, it’s decided.” Stated a council member.
The air in the meeting room was surprisingly calm, even with the recent tragedy. All nine members, dressed in Navy tuxedos, looked on, gazing at the other end of the table, directly at Andres.
“So, all of you decided to make me the new Chairman?” He inquired, but already knew the answer.
“We did,” Stated another, rather apprehensively, “But you still have to sign a new contract.”
“Of course.” The former Director calmly nodded, almost smirking, as he muttered inaudibly, “Wicked. Just wicked.”
The member, Trey Green (a former stockbroker with dark hair, facial hair, and tan skin), handed the pages to Andres. It was lengthy, at least seven pages, but the receiver read the full thing, even the fine print, to Trey’s surprise. Then, as Andrew put the document down, he sighed and inquired,
“Could I geta pen?” His eyes landed once more on the document, but there was no hesitation in his eyes.
“Here,” one of the others, adjacent to Andres (Will Heath, a shorter, white man with blonde hair and hazel eyes), handed one.
The Chairman signed. It was official now, he was head of V.I.C.E., and more importantly, able to call shots with only the Council as his only opposition. But the odds were in his favor, as he decided on the first order of business.
“Al’ight, Council. Let’s make this quick and easy. We’re in deep ****, that much is clear. Our Special Ops are missin’, and we’ve got a situation in North Carolina.” Andres paused.
“The President and the former Chairman answered my request an’ now we have a small force workin’ on the job. But it’s been made clear that we need more forces, as-soon-as-possible.”
“You mean you still haven’t contained Suspect B!?” Someone yelped.
Andres turned angrily towards the direction of the voice, and he locked eyes with a dark-skinned man sitting two seats away from his left. The chairman scowled,
“ ‘xecuse me, Gideon!”
“Chairman, you need to understand,” Gideon interjected, “That while you are playing cops and robbers with that boy in blue and yellow, we are losing money! We need to take him down quickly. It’s been three weeks!”
At this, Andres slammed his fist on the table, startling the other members. The chairman was displeased by the remarks; his hatred of being questioned about anything was apparent to all there, but that stopped no one from speaking up.
“Listen! All of you. I’m not gonna sit here and listen to your chatta.” He paused, beginning to seethe.
“Look, I know it’s not great, but you all are rich. I can secure our suspect, no problem. I just need to bring more soldiers, not to the whole state, but to one area. The Business Triangle.”
Everyone looked at Andres in surprise, until Keaton Fry, an Asian-American with black hair and blue eyes, with multiple military connections, spoke up,
“Why are you so certain he’s there? What if he leaves the area? The triangle is still a massive area to cover, even with our funding!”
Andres smirked, “Well, we’ve had all our encounters with ‘em in Garner, and we wouldn’t be surprised if he’s there, but I want to be as thorough as our resources will allow.”
The other members looked on, seeming to agree with their new chairman.
“So… Let’s have a vote so we can deal with all this mahhdness.” Stated the Chairman. “So, all in favar?”
Each man stated yes. Even Gideon and Keaton agreed, and Andres smirked, knowing exactly why. And then it was decided, V.I.C.E. would send more soldiers and a few more vehicles to Garner, and would begin to sweep there, alongside the rest of the Triangle. From there, the soldiers would establish posts and surveillance, keeping watch for Suspect B. If anything went south? The MST would do their jobs, and business would slow until the heat blew over.
But as the Council dismissed, Andres pulled Gideon and Keaton out to his new office and sat them down. He smiled wryly at them both, who were beginning to perspire. Then Gideon blurted out,
“Look, Andres, if this is about the money we…”
“You did your paht. You don’t need to pay me; this will work out. I’m still gonna without all that… Information. The legality of your deals doesn’t mean a thing to me, for now…” Stated Andres, the wry smile beginning to fade.
“But be warned. If you ever step out of line, and be a moron, and go all ‘I’m doin’ my own thing’, I will turn both your careers to nothing!”
Being met with such a brutal tone, both men nodded in agreement, almost in a panic, before stepping out of their boss’s office. And as they left, both knew this was far from the end. They couldn’t read minds, but both knew, though neither spoke so much as a whisper. Their new boss was on the verge of Megalomania.
And it was far from over. Both knew that for certain.
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One Week Later
Tyler groaned slightly. Shopping wasn’t always fun. It also didn’t help that it came out of nowhere, going to the store. The house was short on things, but Tyler still didn’t understand why he had to come along.
Sure, he understood why Emily did; she wasn’t even 10 yet, leaving her alone would be rather irresponsible, despite her emotional maturity. Still, he was annoyed. Walmart was turbulent, and it bothered him. At the very least, he had foam earplugs, but they weren’t always the best help. Still, he wished he had actual headphones, but those would be hard to get, as his mom and dad had stated prior.
“If you wear something like that in public, you’ll be unaware of danger and get hurt.”
If he was being honest, Tyler didn’t believe it. He didn’t like how much his parents worried about him. Not just because he himself was rather independent, but he knew it was a lot for them. He didn’t want them to worry so much; he knew it was bad for them both. It was rather ironic, but still.
“Both my parents have enough on their hands without worrying about me. I know they’re my parents. But seriously, they’re constantly protective of both me and Emily… Not to the extent of a helicopter parent, but, wow.” Tyler pondered.
He followed his mom about, as she scratched off her list as they went, with Emily getting distracted by all sorts of items, much to Tyler’s dismay, eventually boiling over to Tyler making an excuse to his mom about going to the bathroom.
“I really hope it’s less noisy in there. I need a flippin’ break.” Tyler groaned under his breath.
He walked over to the bathroom, passing through the tech section, glancing slightly at some of the video games displayed. He walked into the Men’s room and was surprised by the lack of people. Normally, the bathroom was bustling and overwhelming for Tyler. Of course, it still was disgusting and looked and smelled like a public restroom, but luckily for Tyler, he was alone.
He sighed, thinking about the upcoming Saturday, just five days away. He’d finally be able to see Dante face-to-face, which made him feel better. Despite not being super social, Tyler was friendly to lots of people, and while he did recharge by spending time alone, he would never pass up an opportunity to spend time with his best friend.
He sighed and muttered to himself,
“Okay, let’s get a move on… Mom’s probably beginning to worry.”
So he left the bathroom and made his way back to the Aisle his mother was staying until he returned. The one with chips, cookies, and other various snacks. As she grabbed a bag of pretzel sticks (one of Tyler’s favorites) she scratched off the final item on her list.
“Ready to go?” Pamela inquired.
“Yes… Thanks for the pretzel sticks…” Muttered Tyler.
Pamela smiled softly and kissed his forehead, and then the three of them went off to the checkout. After buying the groceries, Emily pushed them out in the cart, then Tyler loaded the groceries in, while Emily got into the backseat. Once their mom pushed the cart back, he got into the seat next to his sister, wanting to just hang out with her.
As they drove home, however, Tyler looked out the window and saw something peculiar as they drove through an intersection. On the left, he saw an armored black van. He didn’t need to see the letters on the side to know who owned the car.
Panic flooded Tyler’s body. Were they onto him? Had they found out his identity? It was possible; he wasn’t wearing a full mask after all, but there was no footage out there showing his face. He had been swift, and yet, they had found him? It didn’t make sense.
But as he looked again, the van was driving in the opposite direction, and made no obvious movements towards his mom’s SUV. He sighed softly, his breathing calming, still quiet, like usual. Thankfully, his mom didn’t notice his moment of panic. Tyler didn’t want his mom to worry. Like him, she was quite stress-prone, even while being a gentle soul.
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Eventually, the group arrived at the house. Tyler got out, opened the trunk, and began to help his mom carry the groceries inside. He hummed the tune of one of the various Minecraft songs, gingerly setting down a bag with eggs inside on the kitchen counter. Then he put away some other various cold items into his fridge, imagining the kind of meals he and his mom would probably cook soon.
He helped put away the last of the groceries with his sister before strolling off to his room, but before he did, he overheard his mom turn on the news on the TV. He turned around slightly, puzzled. His mom didn’t normally put on the news unless it was the weather or if a hurricane was blowing through the state.
He loomed over the couch, curious. He looked and saw what the news was. A newscaster chattered on, while a headline bar underneath her, at the bottom of the screen, read, “Private Military brought in for Vigilante Situation.”
“Private military… Oh no…” Tyler muttered.
“Hm? Are you worrying about somethin’?” Pamela asked.
Tyler huffed, “No, just… Surprised.”
He looked on and saw the camera had changed views to the mayor of North Carolina, who was being interviewed inside his office, while wearing a navy suit with a purple undershirt and matching tie. He looked quite stern, even more so than usual. His round, tan, wrinkled face and dark hazel eyes bore that sternness, and the rest was exemplified by his wide but not fat build.
Tyler then began to listen in shock and frustration.
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“I know many have become concerned with the various armored vehicles. But do not be alarmed by any of it. The situation is under control.” The mayor paused,
“As you may know, there have been sightings and reports of a supposed Vigilante in North Carolina. But do not fret, there is a company assigned to it, specifically for elusive criminals such as this.”
The mayor sighed, then raised his voice, “I know that I, as well as the Governor, do not want people dressing in costumes and attacking people! This isn’t the law! It’s terrorism.”
The present press members gasped, all of them surprised. That didn’t seem to be in the footage that got to the internet.
“Now, I normally don’t do this, as it’s not advised. But I simply must show the people at home what happened.”
The view cut to footage of the vigilante leaping and punching the armored man, before mysteriously disappearing.
“I know, shocking. Thankfully, the poor man wasn’t killed. But this is a reminder that public and private law enforcement is protected, and that we will not just sit on our bums and we will stop him!” Preached the mayor.
One curious press member in a green flannel then inquired in a rather nervous tone,
“Aren’t there reports of this ‘criminal’ being a kid?”
A few members of the press looked on in shock and horror, but the mayor shook his head calmly.
“Certainly not… This terrorist is a fully developed adult, and not a hormone-raging teenager. And even better, he’s not targeting random civilians… Only our law enforcement. So…”
The man paused and lightly hit the podium with his fist.
“You may go about your business. But, please, if you happen to somehow see any activity regarding this violent madman, there should be a number being posted out on social media. 998-555-1828.”
He paused another time and stated, in a pressing voice,
“I will not let the people of Garner be in danger. The mayor of Smithfield will not let his citizens be harmed! The mayors of Clayton, Cary, Apex, Morissville, Durham, Chapel Hill, and our capital, Raleigh. Oh goodness gracious, they will not let this terrorist ruin the lives of our men serving as enforcers of the law!”
The audience around him began to clap, as he gestured for them to be quiet.
“And all the rest of this state, will not rest, until we have ended this pandemonium!”
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The Camera transitioned back to the news anchor, who babbled on, as Tyler had stopped caring, walking back his room. But as soon as he shut the door, he went back to his pillow and yelled into it once more. He was thoroughly displeased. What little faith he had in himself as a guardian was fading.
All that effort to protect his dad, and now, not only did more people know about him, but they were calling him a terrorist. A criminal. A threat! It frustrated him greatly, as he looked down under his bed where he had buried the costume, same as before. He scowled, a rare sight for the teen, he normally had just a calm face or a smile, never a scowl.
“Really? After all that trouble I went through?!” Huffed Tyler, “ A terrorist? Who am I, Oliver Queen?”
He shuddered. He sighed as his phone pinged. He didn’t really have time to check. Could be a piece of random mail from the Twenty One Pilots newsletter he had joined. Or it could just be some spam mail. Regardless, even with his sour mood, he checked. It was a notification from the police radio app.
As it was customized to, it sent notifications every time an “important” radio call was made on the Garner PD. He looked to see if it was his dad. And it was, calling in about a riot.
“What?” Tyler gasped.
Riots weren’t very common in North Carolina. Sure, they happened quite often three years prior, back when the world really went to crap. And then? The riots got violent, almost overwhelming for S.W.A.T. and the other cops. But nowadays? Most NC residents complained and rioted on Facebook or Twitter, rather than taking to the streets. This meant it was bad, really bad. This worried the teen, as his father wasn’t normally on call for riots. That was S.W.A.T.’s job.
“Here we go again,” Tyler grumbled. “Hold tight dad. No one’s getting mollied tonight. Especially not you.”
Tyler then stepped out of his room to make an excuse that he was going to his treehouse. Once he was certain his mom believed him, he grabbed his costume and snuck it outside with him to his treehouse. There, he changed into his costume and checked the location of the report.
“The Garner Council building? Means another trip to Arby’s for me…” Tyler muttered, almost joking, despite his pounding stress.
He had a thought and pulled out a pair of headphones from a box inside the treehouse. He normally wore these to protect his ears whenever his dad took him out to the shooting range. He even wore these sometimes whenever he needed to muffle noises outside.
“I’m gonna need these… I can’t risk another panic like at the bank.” Shuddered Tyler, just thinking about what happened, causing his skin to crawl. So, he held onto them, hoping something wouldn’t happen to them once he fast-traveled.
“Please don’t be toasted, Dad.” The teen muttered, panicked.
Then, there was a blip, and he was gone.
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Tyler arrived outside the Arby’s and could already hear the loud chants of people, unintelligible in their numbers, all seemed to be shouting. It was bad, and Tyler knew it was only to get louder. He slipped on his headphones and shuddered.
He crept his way closer to the building, taking great strides, attempting to observe the mob of people causing mayhem across the front and sides of the building, while cops and S.W.A.T. were attempting to hold them, using very little force. Sure, they had shields, but considering the lack of actual weapons being used by the mob, they were only using rubber bullets, and even then, it seemed thst very had been fired.
After all, in the past few years, other states had multiple instances of police brutality, and North Carolina was not about to join them. Besides, for a mob, the violence was severe, sure, the sounds of voices were overwhelmingly loud, and people were chucking rocks, plastic bottles, and paper trash, but, much to Tyler’s relief, nothing lethal, and certainly no Molotov cocktails.
“Oh thank gosh…” Muttered Tyler, as he observed the crowd from a distance.
He then began to read some of the signs people were carrying. All of them were brightly colored and all were demanding two things. A talk with the mayor, and the arrest or death of the Vigilante. It was just like the Arrowverse shows. No one wanted a vigilante. And in that moment, Tyler felt lost. Afraid. Alone.
It was a feeling he had seen in many of the heroes of fiction, the feeling of loneliness, unable to tell anyone anything. He gazed on at the crowds, howling for him, pleading with the cops to let them in. As expected, there were multiple refusals, prompting more objects thrown, and more angry shouting from the flock.
But as Tyler began to make a move, so he could get the rioters away, there was a loud boom, even with his headphones, the teen could hear it ring.
“BOOM!”
“What the heck?” Muttered the teen breathlessly.
Meanwhile, the crowd looked in the direction of the explosion and saw several buildings alight with the spawn of Hell. At this, the crowd suddenly dispersed, all panicked, as they saw the buildings of Westchester Apartments ablaze.
“Holy S***!” Hollered a crowd member, as they all scrambled for their phones to call for Fire and Rescue, while the cops did the same using their radios. And as they did, Tyler looked on, terrified, considering fast-traveling away. If he lingered there, he would be blamed! But then, a thought came to his mind, as he noticed in the corner of his eye, Lucas, going to his car and straight towards the buildings.
“Screw it.” Muttered Tyler, using his super speed to dash across the street. It was risky, and doing this meant he could be killed. But the teen didn’t care, he wasn’t about to let his dad charge in and get hurt trying to save those people. He knew it was possibly too late, but he had to try.
Once he arrived and extinguished his own shoes, he kicked down the door and dashed in, looking around as fast as he could. It was disorienting, the blaze and his speed, even with his ski goggles on, made it hard to focus. But he saw someone. A woman, clutching to a child, like the end was upon them.
Immediately, he swooped in, wrapped his arms around both, and by some miracle, managed to fast-travel them outside to safety. They didn’t even have a chance to say thank you before Tyler charged back in, filled with new passion. He kept on searching, managing to save three other people. But just as he was about to run back into a room to save someone, suddenly he was struck by a piece of burning wood on the shoes, forcing him to extinguish them. But just as he was about to grab the person, he saw a small object on the ground begin to flash a red light rapidly. Instinctively, he fast-traveled out. Then, as soon as he was outside,
“KABOOM!”
Another explosion caused the building to collapse on itself, as another caused the next closest building to be destroyed. Tyler looked on in horror as he saw the flames lap up the buildings, consuming them. Despite the heat facing him, his eyes grew wet with tears. And suddenly, as his body began to weaken, there was a blip, and he was gone.
The crowd looked on, a mix of horror, confusion, and anger simmering among everyone around, as two black vans pulled away from the scene as a news crew came in to survey and report on the damage.
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Tyler groaned as he stood up, exausted, but when he looked up, he wasn’t home. He had fast-traveled in the middle of some random patch of trees! His panic spiked his already raging anger, and he shuddered.
“No… Where’s my house?!”
Tyler’s forehead poured with sweat, as his eyes did with tears. He was broken. Why couldn’t he have saved those people? Why were there bombs inside of an apartment? Was it a trap? He didn’t have any answers, and it added fuel to the already raging fire in Tyler’s head.
“I can’t…” Tyler whimpered.
Suddenly, a surge of energy rushed through his body, and coursed through his veins, until he just couldn’t hold it back.
“BZZT!”
A pulse, blasted all around him, a wave of energy passed through the trees, as the distant light of houses shut off almost simultaneously. An EMP had just been let off. Tyler groaned as he felt his body ache from the release of energy. He shuddered in pain as the electricity crackling on his hands was discharged into the ground. He picked himself up and began looking for a way out. But with no city lights around, he was lost…
“Crud.” He sputtered, hands convulsing.
He tried pulling up an image of his treehouse in his mind and returned. Though this time, the blip of electricity was far weaker than before.
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“F***!”
Andres slammed his fist onto his desk, causing the other board members to jump in surprise.
“Yah tools! Yah let him escape! Even with his dumb disappearing act, yah still should’ve gotten him! D*** it!”
The chairman chucked an empty folder across the room, fuming mad. He should’ve at least bought them time to catch this rat. But instead, he escaped again. And even Andres wasn’t crazy enough to send more soldiers; it would take another two weeks for those outposts to be set up. He needed a solution. He needed to fight fire with fire…
“So, Sir, what’s our plan?” Puzzled Keaton.
Andres growled, “Well… This would norm’lly be the part where I give some mastah plan. But no such luck… The outpost points need anothah week minimum. Howevah, I have an exterminatah.”
Andres paused, as the others looked on.
“We just call in one of our special opahrations members.”
Everyone perked up, all surprised. Now, to provide context, these special members were agents, not soldiers. But they weren’t fully human. Rather, they had superpowers!
“But Sir!” Interjected Felix Howe. “Gallium is on a mission in New Mexico.”
Andres scoffed in response,
“I know, smahty pants. Besides, I doubt sending someone made outa metal to fight a freak with electricity would be wise. And neither would be sendin’ The Human Shield isn’t an option; he’s with our metal-bodied friend.”
“So we’re out of options, then?” Pondered the soft voice of Gideon.
“No, goodness sakes no!” Cried out Keaton. “We’re not calling him up for this.”
Everyone caught his implication, and all stared at Andres in utter disbelief.
“We’re calling up James for this?” Muttered Will, adjusting his golden watch.
Andres nodded smugly and chuckled. His hazel eyes gleamed like Rhinestones as he adjusted the sleeve of his blue jacket, juxtaposed with his rich, smooth, tanned skin.
“You mean Dr. Omni, right? Well, that’s the code name he goes under… We did give the operatives freedom to choose the names based on their powers.”
“But he’s not even a doctor, not in the normal way,” Keaton interjected.
“Yes, but he’s a professah, and that’s close enough. Anyway, he’s the only option.” Interrupted the Chairman.
“But we’re not even sure if he’s loyal to us. Nine times out of ten, the man is off, doing some freaky research in a lab!” Called Keaton.
“That doesn’t mattah. He’s the perfect guy. Smaht, cunning, but most importantly… He can teleport, just like Suspect B, right?” Chided the Chairman.
Keaton finally shut his mouth, realizing it was no use. And the others all listened.
“Now, here’s what I’m gonna do…” Stated Andres. “I’m gonna call ‘em up, and offah him a deal he can’t refuse.”
The chairman paused to glare at Keaton, and continued.
“I’ll let ‘em have the kid first thing, then I’ll give 'im… No, I won’t give ‘im money. I’ll let him have some of that G… Whatevah gunk.”
Everyone in the room looked at him like he was crazy. Will glared and stated,
“You’re givin’ him G63?! Are you crazy? I know you have access to it, I’m certain. But that’s a classified and dangerous substance. And it’s increbily rare, if I must add on. And I’m certain everyone here agrees…”
Then, he paused and sighed, “But if that’s your call… We can hold a vote here… And let me state… I’ll follow your lead on this one.”
Andres only smirked and muttered, “Fine, since it’s protocol for the council to vote for a majah decision… Go ahead.”
The members began saying, “Aye,” or giving nods to Andres. The only members who backed out were Felix and Jaydon Maxxon. But the majority rules stood, and so it was decided that the G63 would be part of the bargain.
And so, as the counsel dismissed, Andres smirked as he strode to his office, his Rhinestone eyes shining as he closed and locked the door behind him, as he sat in his chair, an air of malice around him as he picked up his phone, switched to a secure line, and checked his list of important numbers. He found the number, 922-555-2121 and dialed it.
He was shortly connected.
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The lights flickered in the dingy workshop, tubes bubbling with dubious liquids, a 12-foot glass capsule set up in one corner, and in the other, doorframe-shaped pieces sat, halfway assembled. And between the two? A massive oak table, 9 feet long, with paper neatly organized, along with two mugs of piping hot tea.
The man sitting at that table wore a white lab coat with custom green accents in various shades, brown pants, military black boots, and a brown button-up underneath. His black hair was spiked up, using a very fine gel, and his violet eyes, glowing with madness, as he made notations to the parchment in front of him, a metal armament to his right
“No… Still shor’… Still shor’ on G63… D***.” He muttered.
His ramblings were interrupted by a phone ringing. He growled angrily, picking up the phone.
“You’re no spam caller, so out with it, eh?” Muttered the man.
“Hello James. It’s Andres. I’ve gotta deal for you.” Stated the voice.
“Well then…” Muttered James, admiring what he was workshopping.
“What is it this time?”
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and then Add to home screen.