Gabe yawned, frowning at his vibrating phone. Glancing at his clock, he muttered, "Who the f*** calls people at 3 am?" He answered it. "Gabe."
"Amelie's gone."
"Huh?"
"Amelie's GONE! She was walking to her practice, and she disappeared. The videos don't have anything pointing to who took her, so it has to be Talon!" Gabriel wasn't catching all of it, and when the person switched to French, he asked sternly,
"Who is this?"
"Gerald."
"Oh. Gone?" Gabe frowned. *She wouldn't just disappear. It was probably on purpose.*
"Oui." More distressed French words followed one of the few words Gabe knew, and he said,
"Relax. She has a secret plan. Hang up, call 911 after getting rid of evidence you called me. It's a civilian kidnapping: this is a private number. Not good."
"Alright. Purdon for freaking out." The Frenchman hung up, and Gabe shoved his face into his pillow, screaming into the muffler. *Can't tell anyone about this: we aren't supposed to be in contact.* Taking a deep breath, he headed out to the front desk, where a clearly bored and tired man was playing Hunie Pop.
"Give me my check."
"Oh! Mr. Reyes! You're up early." The man quickly hid the game: Gabe didn't care if he was playing a game or not. He scrambled out a check, shakenly handing it to the commander. "…Please don't tell anyone I was playing that."
"Don't care." Gabe walked to a normal black car, rammed in the keys, and slammed on the gas, growling. *I'll visit Mi Madre and deposit my check. I need some space right now.* He slowed down when he got to his home town, not wanting to get arrested again. Pulling into an apartment, he called, "Madre?"
"Gabriel? Mi hijo (Son)! What are you doing? I thought you had work?"
"Taking a break." The woman had black hair and black skin, but her eyes were bright blue. She was also wearing a green short sleeve shirt and jeans and carrying a pistol. "Madre, why are you carrying your gun?"
"I was going to the target range. We could go to the ring instead!"
"Sure. Give me that." The woman pulled it away, frowning.
"No! I have my gun license."
"And no holster."
"Give me yours. You never carry a gun when you're not on duty." Gabe sighed, pulling the holster off.
"Si, Madre." Gabe put a guy into a chokehold in the wrestling mat to his mom's cheering.
"Go for the eyes!"
"It's non-lethal combat, madre!"
"He won't die!" Gabe slammed the guy head into the mat, knocking him out cold. "LIGHTWEIGHT!"
"Let's see you do better!" The guy's trainer shouted, angry. The woman punched his face, knocking him out.
"No wonder he's a lightweight: you are, too."
"He meant in the ring."
"He should have said that, then. Let's get carnitas." Gabe was picking at his food, not hungry. "What's bothering you?"
"Can't talk about it." His mom frowned, looking at him. "No, madre." Gabe sighed. His mother frowned.
"Let me guess. Something happened to a girl you like, but people either don't know you like her; you're dating and no one knows it; or you can't tell anyone you've been in contact."
"How?"
"I know my son. Remember when you saved those kids?" Gabe sighed.
"Si. Could we not talk about past illegal actions?"
"Spoilsport. You should get back to headquarters."
"Si, but-"
"No 'para's! You have a job. Good job on the wrestling mat. Probably shouldn't have said to go for the eyes."
"You get passionate. Love you."
"Love you too. Kill some bad guys." He stopped by his bank, sighing as he looked at his paycheck. *You'd think I'd get paid more.* Inside, only 2 people were working, and judging from the fear and eyes darting towards the door as he came in, they didn't want to be there. A clock with broken glass said 9:01. Several people where in lines to do business. *Why only 2 people working on a payday? Whatever. Poor management is their issue.* He got into line, impatiently crossing his arm. He began tapping his fingers against his right bicep. *Come on. I have papers to read and fill out. The bank needs to fire the guy who came up with this.* He inched toward the clerk, and as the clock chimed eleven, he finally got to the desk. *About time.* The clerk smiled at the man, saying while glancing at the time in a thick Spanish accent,
"So sorry for the wait."
"No te preocupes." She smiled, and said,
"How may I help you, sir?"
"Deposit and transfer."
"Please slide your card across." He complied with her statement as four people came in. One was a bizarrely large man that demanded the attention of everyone, 2 locals, and a bored looking kid in a cowboy hat. People began panicking, racing out of the strangers' way. Gabriel didn't do more than glance. *Big one is a Northerner, and the boy's Texan. Doesn't want to be here, either. Not my problem as of yet, but I still wonder what a Texan is doing this far away from home.* The clerk started shaking, but Gabriel was calm as he said, handing her his check,
"How do I transfer?"
"…D-do you have…account number?" Gabe nodded.
"Do I type it in?" The big man turned bright red, shouting,
"Hey! Don't you know who we are?!"
"Gang. Doing my business and leaving. Waited an hour." The clerk continued onwards at Gabriel's nod, saying as politely as she could while shaking and being terrified,
"Just type it in on the screen." Gabriel began doing that as the man screamed,
"Kill him!" One of the locals began going forward, raising his fists as Gabriel finished typing, glancing at him. He saw his belt's insignia and sighed. *Deadlock gang. Now it's my problem. Hey, maybe I'll figure out where their base is.* He turned squarely as the woman was typing. He hit the coming man in the neck with a flat hand, hitting him square in the jugular, causing him to choke. He tried to hit Gabriel in the stomach, but Gabriel dropped, taking the hit to his chest and flatting the man against the ground. The woman said, too scared to look up,
"H-how much are you wanting to transfer?"
"500." He saw the man stop convulsing, out cold. *Well, that was just sad. This lady has guts: I'll give her a tip for her trouble.* "What's your account number?"
"I-I'll put it in." He turned to face the others, and the large man had lost his bluster, turning pale. He grabbed the bag of cash they had succeeded in getting and ran. Gabriel resisted chuckling. *I could see a tail.* The other local was scared, but stood his ground, looking at his companion in worry. The boy sat up, looking worried, saying,
"Get him. I got the black guy." Gabriel frowned. *That first guy was likely the best fighter of the four. No way this kid can 'get' me. And the kid's not Texan: he's an Oaky, even farther from home.* He took a solid stance as the local started pulling the injured man away, fists at the ready. Gabriel didn't attack, eyeing his so-called opponent in chagrin. *Poor stance, no fighting capability at all. How does he think he'll take me out? And black guy? Really?* The kid reached for a missing gun, and Gabriel took his movements in. *He knows how to shoot. Well, too: I'd bet money.* Gabriel took three steps forward, punching him in the face and wrapping his arms around the boy's neck. He tried squirming out, but Gabriel's grip tightened.
"H-how much would you like to transfer?"
"150." The girl looked up in surprise as Gabe slung the kid across his shoulder.
"Cuanto cuesta?"
"One hundred and fifty." Gabriel put his bank card away casually, shifting his load a little. "Adios." He walked to his car and saw that it had been dug into by several keys and growled. "That didn't even accomplish anything. Why are people scared of this gang? Whatever. I don't care." He dropped the kid in the front seat and looked at him closer. *Tan, so he's been in the gang for a while, but isn't high up considering he didn't want to be there and his age. Fourteen at most. Knows how to shoot. Don't get the cowboy hat. Has guts if he tried to fight someone way above his skill level. Or he's an idiot. No fashion sense. Wonder what his name is. Probably something dumb like Joel or Jack.* Gabriel buckled the boy, and drove to the base, parking right in his usual spot. He opened the boy's door and heard a snore. *Funny.* He slung the boy over his shoulder, entering the building. Angela flew by, pausing at the sight of Gabriel carrying an unconscious boy.
"Gabriel, who is that?" He shrugged.