"Guahhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." Shockwave sat up in bed, the nightmare fading away as the real world took over. As he looked around the dark room, lit only by the streetlights outside while thunder roared and rain poured onto the streets of Detroit, he saw the clock on his desk beside the bed. The glowing numbers read 2:34 AM.
"Dammit..." he muttered as he wiped the sweat off his brow and tossed the sheets that had clung to his skin, soaked in sweat, onto the floor. It had been this way for the past 9 months...he woke up violently in the middle of the night, each time from the same nightmare every time there was a thunderstorm. Stumbling through the dimly lit room, he made his way to the bathroom and flipped on the lights, looking at himself in the mirror.
"You look like shit, Jason..." he said out loud as he splashed his face with cold water and looked back into the mirror. He hadn't shaved or slept in a week or two and it showed. His normally emerald eyes seemed to have darkened... he reached over and turned on the shower, growling...he'd forgotten about the shoulder. The two slugs that hit him in the shoulder had torn through skin and muscle, slamming into his shoulder blade, doing no permanent damage, but they slammed him to the ground with enough force to crack his collarbone when he hit the pavement. He'd been on injured leave since.
Once the shower was hot enough, he climbed in and stood in the stream of hot water, feeling it soak his skin and hair, washing away the stickiness of his sweat. He groaned as he stretched, careful of his shoulder... Standing in the shower until he felt clean, he stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist and shut off the water. Turning back to the mirror, he squirted some shaving cream into his hand and covered his jaw, throat, and upper lip and turned on the faucet. Just as he ran the razor down his right cheek, he heard sounds from outside his front door.
"God dammit..." he muttered, heading for the front door and leaving wet footprints across the carpet.
A woman stood on the doorstep of his apartment, soaked to the bone. Her wet clothes were stuck to her skin, her hair a mess. She'd been trying to contact Shockwave since the raid a week and a half ago. All she knew was that he better answer the God dammed door or she'd be more likely to shoot him than accomplish her assignment. The door opened and she turned back to see a man wearing a black towel around his waist, shaving cream all over the lower half of his face save a streak of bare skin on his right cheek. His emerald eyes looked her over, his brown hair limp and slicked back from a shower. Her eyes looked over his body, well defined and muscular, he obviously worked out and kept himself in the best shape for his job. She noticed the trio of bullet scars on his right shoulder and the redness on his left shoulder area around the collarbone.
"Can I help you?" he finally asked.
"Oh, yes...I've been trying to contact you for over a week, Detective Faria." Detective, that's right, the chief had given him a promotion for pulling in the Headman, but that hadn't been made public he thought to himself.
"Are you from the papers?" he asked suspiciously.
"No, I hate them too." She smiled, flashing a smile that could have blinded Ray Charles all over again.
"Then come in out of the rain." He said, moving out of the way.
"Thank you." She walked past him gracefully, looking around the apartment, taking note of the disassembled Beretta on the coffee table.
"If you don't mind..." he motioned towards the bathroom.
"Please feel free." She replied, looking at his bookcase as he resumed his shaving. A book on the end caught her eye, a first edition copy of the Hound of the Baskervilles.
"If you want to get dried off, the dryer is down the hall, second door. I should have some warm sweat clothes or a bathrobe you can wear while they dry."
"Thank you." She replied, disappearing down the hall. Shockwave finished shaving and splashed on some alcohol, then entered his bedroom to dress.
"So why were you looking for me?" he asked, entering the living room dressed in sweatpants and a Green Lantern t-shirt.
"My boss asked me to." She replied, stepping into the room in one of his sweat suits, holding the pant up with a hand.
"Your boss..." Shockwave was suspicious again. "You mind if I smoke?"
"Not if you let me have one." She replied. He held the pack out to her; she drew one with her slender fingers and lit it. Their eyes met, both noting the other had emerald green eyes...
"So who is your boss?" Shockwave asked as leaned back in his chair. "In fact, what is your name? You know mine, but I don't know yours."
The woman smiled, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "My name is Alison Hart-Burnett. I represent General Clayton Abernathy."
"Abernathy...I'm not familiar with him. But why is the military interested in me?" He wasn't sure what to think now, not sure if this was a set up or a joke.
"I've been sent to recruit you for Special Counter Terrorism Group Delta. The general heard about your takedown of the Headman and wants you on the team."
"You're shitting me." Shockwave replied. "Who really sent you?"
"General Abernathy. I'm not shitting you as you so eloquently put it." She slid laid a packet on the table. "Inside is all the relevant data. Once you complete the basic testing and training, if you pass, you will be a member of the team. You could get an officer's commission with your schooling...."
Shockwave cut her off as he extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray. "Look, right now I'm not in the right mindset to make a sound decision of this caliber. Give me 24 hours to think it over."
"That's fair." Alison replied. "I can be reached at this number." She handed him a card with a number on it as the dryer dinged to indicate the load was dry. "I'll get dressed and leave now, thank you for letting me get dry." She grabbed her clothes from the dryer and got dressed in the bathroom. She smiled to herself as she climbed into the cab that had stopped for her, leaving Shockwave to muse over the proposal. She knew he'd accept.
"Dammit..." he muttered as he wiped the sweat off his brow and tossed the sheets that had clung to his skin, soaked in sweat, onto the floor. It had been this way for the past 9 months...he woke up violently in the middle of the night, each time from the same nightmare every time there was a thunderstorm. Stumbling through the dimly lit room, he made his way to the bathroom and flipped on the lights, looking at himself in the mirror.
"You look like shit, Jason..." he said out loud as he splashed his face with cold water and looked back into the mirror. He hadn't shaved or slept in a week or two and it showed. His normally emerald eyes seemed to have darkened... he reached over and turned on the shower, growling...he'd forgotten about the shoulder. The two slugs that hit him in the shoulder had torn through skin and muscle, slamming into his shoulder blade, doing no permanent damage, but they slammed him to the ground with enough force to crack his collarbone when he hit the pavement. He'd been on injured leave since.
Once the shower was hot enough, he climbed in and stood in the stream of hot water, feeling it soak his skin and hair, washing away the stickiness of his sweat. He groaned as he stretched, careful of his shoulder... Standing in the shower until he felt clean, he stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist and shut off the water. Turning back to the mirror, he squirted some shaving cream into his hand and covered his jaw, throat, and upper lip and turned on the faucet. Just as he ran the razor down his right cheek, he heard sounds from outside his front door.
"God dammit..." he muttered, heading for the front door and leaving wet footprints across the carpet.
A woman stood on the doorstep of his apartment, soaked to the bone. Her wet clothes were stuck to her skin, her hair a mess. She'd been trying to contact Shockwave since the raid a week and a half ago. All she knew was that he better answer the God dammed door or she'd be more likely to shoot him than accomplish her assignment. The door opened and she turned back to see a man wearing a black towel around his waist, shaving cream all over the lower half of his face save a streak of bare skin on his right cheek. His emerald eyes looked her over, his brown hair limp and slicked back from a shower. Her eyes looked over his body, well defined and muscular, he obviously worked out and kept himself in the best shape for his job. She noticed the trio of bullet scars on his right shoulder and the redness on his left shoulder area around the collarbone.
"Can I help you?" he finally asked.
"Oh, yes...I've been trying to contact you for over a week, Detective Faria." Detective, that's right, the chief had given him a promotion for pulling in the Headman, but that hadn't been made public he thought to himself.
"Are you from the papers?" he asked suspiciously.
"No, I hate them too." She smiled, flashing a smile that could have blinded Ray Charles all over again.
"Then come in out of the rain." He said, moving out of the way.
"Thank you." She walked past him gracefully, looking around the apartment, taking note of the disassembled Beretta on the coffee table.
"If you don't mind..." he motioned towards the bathroom.
"Please feel free." She replied, looking at his bookcase as he resumed his shaving. A book on the end caught her eye, a first edition copy of the Hound of the Baskervilles.
"If you want to get dried off, the dryer is down the hall, second door. I should have some warm sweat clothes or a bathrobe you can wear while they dry."
"Thank you." She replied, disappearing down the hall. Shockwave finished shaving and splashed on some alcohol, then entered his bedroom to dress.
"So why were you looking for me?" he asked, entering the living room dressed in sweatpants and a Green Lantern t-shirt.
"My boss asked me to." She replied, stepping into the room in one of his sweat suits, holding the pant up with a hand.
"Your boss..." Shockwave was suspicious again. "You mind if I smoke?"
"Not if you let me have one." She replied. He held the pack out to her; she drew one with her slender fingers and lit it. Their eyes met, both noting the other had emerald green eyes...
"So who is your boss?" Shockwave asked as leaned back in his chair. "In fact, what is your name? You know mine, but I don't know yours."
The woman smiled, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "My name is Alison Hart-Burnett. I represent General Clayton Abernathy."
"Abernathy...I'm not familiar with him. But why is the military interested in me?" He wasn't sure what to think now, not sure if this was a set up or a joke.
"I've been sent to recruit you for Special Counter Terrorism Group Delta. The general heard about your takedown of the Headman and wants you on the team."
"You're shitting me." Shockwave replied. "Who really sent you?"
"General Abernathy. I'm not shitting you as you so eloquently put it." She slid laid a packet on the table. "Inside is all the relevant data. Once you complete the basic testing and training, if you pass, you will be a member of the team. You could get an officer's commission with your schooling...."
Shockwave cut her off as he extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray. "Look, right now I'm not in the right mindset to make a sound decision of this caliber. Give me 24 hours to think it over."
"That's fair." Alison replied. "I can be reached at this number." She handed him a card with a number on it as the dryer dinged to indicate the load was dry. "I'll get dressed and leave now, thank you for letting me get dry." She grabbed her clothes from the dryer and got dressed in the bathroom. She smiled to herself as she climbed into the cab that had stopped for her, leaving Shockwave to muse over the proposal. She knew he'd accept.
