He was late. Of course.
Buster Moon's rusty MoPed puttered pitifully as he pushed the ancient engine to its limit, speeding through the streets of the buzzing metropolis. The old machine was a faded red color and in some places the paint had chipped away completely to reveal patches of rust. It looked like Buster had pulled the poor thing out of its grave. Despite the condition of his ride, Buster weaved in and out of stopped cars like he was riding a Ducati. A chorus of honks and angry yells greeted his bold navigation as frustrated drivers expressed their displeasure. Buster ignored all of this as he left the downtown area of the city and headed into an older district filled with old buildings and crumbling testaments to the poverty of the area. He screeched to a stop in front of a condemned theatre and hopped off of his MoPed. Humming happily he hurried down an alley on one side of the building until he had reached the back of the building. He parked his bike in the dirt, careful to avoid the pieces of broken glass and trash that littered the area. Satisfied that his vehicle was relatively safe, he removed his old motorcycle goggles to reveal wide grey-blue eyes and ruffled gray locks that parted down the middle and fell in his face slightly. He brushed imaginary dust off of his favorite blue suit and straightened his red bow tie. Once he was satisfied that he looked impeccable he strolled over to the back door and reached for the grubby handle.
He groaned when the handle held fast, the lock preventing him from budging the huge metal door. He groaned in frustration and rested his forehead on the door as he counted to ten slowly. Once he was calm his lips pulled into a slightly forced grin and he knocked three times on the door. A familiar voice called out from the other side.
"What?! Who's there?!" Buster's grin strained slightly when he realized that his morning was starting to spiral just a little bit further. It was never a good thing for him to hear that squawking, raspy voice first thing in the morning. It always meant trouble.
"Miss Crawly? It's me let me in." He jiggled the door handle once more but it still refused to give.
There was a brief silence as the woman on the other side of the door tried to puzzle out who exactly was on the other side of the door, "What's the password?" She suddenly demanded and Buster had to physically stop himself from pulling out his hair. Instead he settled for clenching his teeth and trying to reason with the woman on the other side of the door.
"Miss Crawly. We don't have a password." There was another long silence and when the voice returned this time it was more confused than firm.
"Well that doesn't seem very safe... how I am supposed to know that you aren't an enemy?" Buster's fists clenched at his sides and he took ten more calming breaths before he replied.
"Please?" He tried but he was immediately interrupted by Miss Crawly's triumphant voice.
"Hah! Wrong!" She went silent and Buster paced over to his MoPed and then back to the door in an effort to work off even a smidge of the tension that was building in his shoulders. Miss Crawly would be the death of him, it was an absolute fact. But today was too important for him to fall prey to the heart attack that was his secretary. He gave it another minute and then knocked on the door once more, his false cheer in full force.
"Miss Crawly it's your boss, Buster Moon? Will you please let me in?" He waited with bated breath for some kind of response and almost immediately the door was wrenched open to reveal an old women who was even shorter than him. She was wearing a garish orange jumpsuit that unfortunately clung to her body's every curve. Once upon a time it may have been a sight to see, but at this point her body was hunched slightly and her skin was covered in wrinkles. Buster had grown used to her wardrobe of obnoxious jumpsuits in the years that she had worked for him so he didn't even spare her a second glance.
He bustled into the crumbling entrance, Miss Crawly hot on his heels. They picked their way through the debris until they arrived in an area that used to be back stage. Buster hopped down the short set of stairs that led to
Buster cleared his throat and placed his hand on the scan pad as he spoke his chosen phrase into the microphone, "Rock bottom."
They were bathed in green light as his identity was verified and the elevator smoothly sailed down into their hidden fortress. Buster whistled quietly in an effort to break the all-consuming silence that encompassed the elevator. Miss Crawly just adjusted her glass eye so that it was facing outward. Buster rolled his eyes and raised the volume of his whistling nervously.
Just when the ride was starting to seem unbearably long the elevator doors slid open to reveal a long hallway ending in one solid grey door. Buster briskly walked down the hall, the clacking of his dress shoes echoing loudly around them. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out four folders from the bottom of his briefcase. His fingers danced over a fifth one, thick with paper and information, but he shook his head and left it in his bag. He then handed the bag to Miss Crawly who cradled it in her arms as she hurried to keep up with his pace.
"Are they all here?" He asked absentmindedly as he double-checked the names on the folders.
"Oh! Uh yes sir." Miss Crawly said as she fumbled with his briefcase before gaining control once more.
"Good. Very good." He mumbled to himself and when they reached the door he grabbed the handle and stood there for a second. Miss Crawly watched as he rolled his shoulders and shook himself out so that his body wasn't tense.
"Show time." With that he wrenched the door open and strutted in, Miss Crawly stumbling behind him.
Upon their entrance the five people that had been milling about impatiently turned all attention to Buster. Buster was wearing a welcoming smile as he gestured for them to take their seats in the small metal chairs that were waiting for them in the center of the room. Once everyone had made their way over to the chairs Buster began his opening speech. He had been practicing this speech in the mirror for weeks like a true showman.
"I would like to welcome all of you to Operation S.I.N.G. You have been hand picked for this operation because you are the best in your field, and because you have potential." He paused for effect and then carefully began pacing in front of the chairs. He had memorized the layout of the room days ago and as a result his carefully planned choreography went off without a hitch. Their eyes followed his every movement until he stopped in front of his first agent.
He flipped open his file as he examined the sweet woman that sat daintily on the chair in front of him. She had short blonde hair that she kept nervously trying to tuck behind her ear. She was wearing a pink button up and a pair of mom jeans that hugged her curvy figure just enough to be appropriate. She was clutching a yellow handbag close to her chest and her cheeks colored when Buster looked up at her with his piercing grey-blue eyes.
"Rosita Tenny." She nodded needlessly as if confirming to everyone that that was indeed her, "Excellent engineer, accomplished mechanic, with a history of brawling in the garage." He raised an eyebrow questioningly and Rosita's pale, freckled skin turned cherry-red.
"I-it was a um...oh dear it was a little m-misunderstanding." She sputtered and Buster had to hide the small that desperately wanted to come out behind his mask of impassivity. He couldn't lose character so early in the game. He had to earn their respect first.
"It says here that you bludgeoned a man with a wrench for, and I quote, 'touching your fucking tools'." Rosita turned impossibly redder and gasped slightly when Buster let the curse word loose. She glanced over at the other agents who were looking at her in awe and shock. She wrung her hands and shifted in her seat before offering up a feeble explanation.
"They're very... sensitive?" It came out like a question and Buster stared up at her for a moment before closing her folder and turning towards his next victim. Behind him Rosita sighed in relief and relaxed her death grip on her bright yellow purse.
A pudgy blonde man decked out in a gold sequined sweat suit was eagerly bouncing in his chair, his smile so large that it made Buster's cheek twinge with sympathy. His long blonde hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail and his aqua colored eyes practically glittered with excitement. Buster was put off for a second before he cleared his throat and opened the next folder.
"Gunter" Buster held the name, proud of himself for pronouncing it correctly after all of the practice he put in. "No last name?"
"Ya! I am like zee famous Cher!" Buster smirked and looked down at his notes.
"On loan from the German Intelligence Service... for an undetermined amount of time. Interesting."
"I am on unt vacation." Gunter proclaimed proudly and Buster just stared at the man in amusement.
"Ah...yes. Former race car driver, banned from every track in Europe and parts of Asia, and you have totaled 37 agency vehicles." Gunter just nodded proudly and gave his fellow agents an exuberant thumbs up.
"And... I'm sorry what is dance-fu?" Buster had been puzzling over this concept for months but the Internet had nothing to offer and no one else in the agency was familiar with it.
"Oh! Da! Zat is ein deadly compinazion of martial arts und dance." He emphasized the word dance with a roll of his body and an impossibly larger grin that made Buster smile slightly. He shook his head and pointed his pen tip at the exuberant man.
"That's… nice. Well, welcome to the team." With that he moved on to the next chair where a girl was sitting slumped in the metal chair, her arms crossed over he chest and her eyes narrowed in boredom. Before Buster could say anything she blew a pink bubble with her gum and popped it loudly. Buster didn't even flinch as he opened her file and scanned the information, making a show of reading it so that they didn't know that he had actually memorized every word.
"Ashley Fitch." He started with her name just like everyone else but the girl leaned forward, a dark look in her eyes, and interrupted him.
"Ash. My name is Ash." She spat out and Buster raised an eyebrow questioningly before returning to her file.
"Ash Fitch." The girl was the picture of rebellious teen in her twenties. She had a head full of dreadlocks that were bleached in places to give them a ringed lock. She was wearing a black and white sweater covered in holes, a red plaid skirt, and dark grey leggings. Her eyes were rimmed with dark makeup making her tan skin paler than it actually was.
"Demolitions and weapons expert, top of your class at the academy, but a severe problem with authority." Buster wasn't fazed when she gave him a sneer and rolled her eyes as he read off her credentials, "In your time with the agency you have been transferred off of six different units and written up for insubordination 52 times."
Buster whistled and then gave the gloomy girl a cheerful smile, "We're going to get along famously." He winked and Ash snarled in response. He ignored her response and moved on to the last chair.
It was occupied by a tall young man with deep tan skin. His unruly dark hair was spiked up on top of his head and stubble speckled his face. His handsome face was tight with nerves but his body was relaxed back against the chair, almost sprawled in it.
"Johnathan Bannerton." Johnny nodded and fiddled with his leather jacket as Buster examined him for a long time, "Expert martial artist and top field agent in your sector. Son of Marcus 'Big Daddy' Bannerton, notorious mobster." Johnny looked away in shame, his knee bouncing slightly as her nerves became more apparent. Johnny said nothing and buster didn't push as he closed the folder and walked back to the door, opening it and gesturing for all of them to follow.
The group got up out of their seats and hurried after him, whispering quietly behind his back as they walked. When they reached the elevator, Buster pressed the button to summon it. He turned around to look at the group, Ash spoke up , her hands shoved deep in her pockets.
"And who the hell are you?" She smirked and Buster cheered inwardly. He had been saving this line for a special occasion and now he would finally have a chance to use it.
"The name's Buster…Buster Moon." Right on time the elevator arrived and he dramatically stepped in. Ash shuffled in with everyone else but as the door closed she snorted out a laugh and whispered under her breath.
"Ya big dork."