* 2022-11-28
Please let me know what you think of the intro and the two groups' first interactions.
P.S. Please be warned that this story has references to child pornography and human trafficking.
I'm trying hard to keep this PG16 but be warned that my stories contain mature subjects. There is graphic violence, coarse language, sexual situations, and triggers as my characters deal with emotional, physical, or mental traumas.
The Arrangement
Chapter 02
Darien
I've had long days, and then there are the days that I don't see go by. As a doctor, I've learned how to compartmentalize, triage, and detach all at once. Teaching myself not to get riled up by stress or exhaustion. But the moment I arrive at the Pub and see Max get thrown against a car with a show of caged violence, my hair stands on end.
There is one thing in life I have no room, patience, or tolerance for and that is violence.
After fixing more cases than I care to remember of physical abuse in the hospital, and witnessing a good friend's domestic abuse as a teen, leaves me no lenience for such displays. Even when the one displaying that behavior is a woman.
You can call me a hypocrite as two of my closest friends have both had violent jobs. Jack joined the military and Max had been a professional MMA fighter. I never understood their choices or how they could tolerate the violence around them.
Every fiber of my being as far as I can remember has wanted to tend to and care for people.
The one act of violence that was directed at me happened when I was around six. The time when my father backhanded me for telling him off. Since then, the dislike of any display of aggressivity or intent to hurt directed at anyone, whether physical, mental or emotional, gets me riled up past my professional reserve.
"Enough! Put him down, J."
The young woman who exits the other Jeep leaves my mouth agape. She looks like an angel reincarnate with how fair her skin is, the baby blue light in her eyes, and how her hair looks almost crystal white as it flutters around her face, escaping the confines of her loose ponytail.
But that's where the angelic stops. Her curves leave me staring. They are the work of a devil. Long lean legs curve into wide luscious hips and ass, tiny waist, and ample breasts all barely hidden under her loose black tank top.
What keeps me transfixed though, is her voice. The sound is sweet and innocent, but the tone and intensity are anything but. They command attention and demand full obedience. And all of my frustration is blindsided by her presence. My reprimand is completely forgotten.
"J, now!"
"Ambush." The brown-haired amazon, because she really did look like those women from the Wonder Woman movies, gritted out through her clenched teeth as she squeezed tighter Max's neck.
"Explain," ordered the ash blond as she closed the door and stood beside her friend. Um… Subordinate… Who the hell knew?
"Only the bar help and doctor were supposed to show up. Instead, we show up and suddenly a cop and lawyer appear. Potential ambush."
"Yea, the blond Ken doll beside the bad bleach job bartender has a gun at his back and under his jacket. Plus, he moves like a Cop. And the cross-dressing chick in the tacky suit, fancy suitcase, and non-stop beeping cell is most likely a lawyer. There were supposed to be two peeps here. Now we have a crowd of witnesses," the other blond in a Disney princess shirt agreed, her voice lethal.
Rubbing her side, bloody side, which should have been the first thing I noticed, the new arrival dropped her voice as she eyed each of the assembled girls.
"J, put the Civilian down. This isn't an ambush, just him taking precautions, just like you would in his shoes. Now J. Amy, do back checks. Rei, scope the place out. Mina, get the non-disclosure papers out."
I watch in stunned amazement as the women follow her instructions immediately. They move with military precision. The kind you see in action movies. What the hell had Max gotten us into? I didn't get a chance to ask as she continued to give out orders.
"Bartender, open the back door and find us a secluded room. No surprises. Cop don't reach for your gun or make any fast movement. We're trained to kill, not detain. Don't test the theory. Lawyer, keep this all to yourself or I'll sic Luna and Associates on you. Witness make yourself useful, Tequila and three burgers now. And Doc, move your arse because Merc's fingers are twitching to stitch me up but she can't today. I'll pay you each ten grand for ten minutes of your life as soon as you sign the non-disclosure. So, let's get to it."
I'm not sure what triggers me. But I'm pulled out of my daze.
"Hold up."
Everyone stops to look at me. Except for the blond who waltzes right by me, up the stairs into the back of the bar. Everyone follows her directive, ignoring me. The call of easy money calls my buddies. Unlike me.
I jog up the stairs and enter Keith's office, annoyed as hell. "Can someone explain what the hell is going on? Why did Max get attacked just a second ago? Did you forget already!?"
"As soon as you sign the non-disclosure, we'll explain everything," the Disney fan answers me as she hands a stack of papers to Zack, whose eyes bulge out almost as he looks them over.
"You weren't kidding when you talked about Luna and Associates…" he whispers almost reverently, already perusing the documents, ignoring the big screaming gaping issue everyone seems oblivious to.
"Who are you and why would anyone stab you? Why did you choke Max? Why the non-disclosure or hush money? Are you mafia or something?" I'm trying hard to make sense of what I'm witnessing while also fighting the urge to check on the wounded woman and access how bad her injuries are.
"Relax Darien. It's not what you think. These girls are the good guys, as far as I've seen," answers Max as he returns to the room, carrying what the patient asked for. Without waiting for an invitation, the wounded woman snatches the bottle of Tequila and burgers as she sits languorously on Keith's reclining chair.
Serena
It's official. Someone has a death wish! Nope; make that plural! What did a girl have to do to get some peace and quiet to simply nap? Whom do I have to kill? Because hell and damnation, right now I feel like a fucking grizzly waking after months of hibernation.
The lack of food and sleep over the past seventy-two hours is doing a number on my body. Again reminding me why I don't do undercover. Nope. That is usually Rei's specialty. But that's not the issue right now.
People are yelling right outside the Jeep just as my body finally started recuperating. Instead of getting a couple of minutes of much-needed shut-eye, some idiots thought it was go-time for spats.
Forcing one eyelid, then the other to open, a dual reflection of the setting sun over a clear pristine lake blinds me momentarily. Dusk will soon follow, and with it, the full moon. It's going to be a beautiful spot for star gazing. Well, it will be as soon as I'm done murdering the pesky, noisy, busybodies who are bickering even louder now by the Jeep's side door.
Reigning in my very, Very, VERY hangry disposition is a huge feat on a normal day, calming it after a mission is quite literally another hurdle. But instead of snapping, I chuckle. Damn, it never gets old when J goes, well… Ape shit. Amazon. I am Shera, hear me roar! And the scene that unfolds before me is the weirdest thing I've woken to in a long time.
J is holding up… Fuck, what's his name? Matt? Mike? Anyways, the civilian by his bunched-up shirt on tippy toes pressed firmly against our other vehicle. The surprise and discomfort, and evidently embarrassment according to the slight pink tint of his complexion, is beyond comical. As well as his attempt to dislodge her grasp.
It's an endless source of amusement to watch J teach men the wrath and strength of a woman. Most still believe girls are nothing but damsels they can play with and discard at will. Then they meet J, whose mere physical presence makes them cup their balls. Protectively. And yes, she likes to teach them the fear of helplessness. Especially when she picks them up and throws them around like the discarded rags they are when they step out of line.
My smile dies that thought. 'Damn, when did I become so jaded?' To be amused by J using her excessive training and physical strength on a civilian, who as far as I know, has done nothing wrong… Fuck. My mind and morals are taking a serious plunge in a direction that worries me. It's the first sign I'm becoming as bad as the people who'd kidnapped me…
As happy as I am to celebrate Amy's B-day, it never fails to bring up memories I'd prefer to stay buried. Deep, deeper, deepest down the dark recesses of my mind.
I grab my side to staunch the bleeding that's still coming through the gauze and open the door. My shirt's already soaked through with blood as I step next to J.
"Enough! Put him down, J."
The burning pain in my side increases with my movements. Plus, I'm wobbly on my legs thanks to the lack of food and sleep. I don't need the girls to see how bad I feel, and I'll never show weakness in front of an audience.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, stomach rumbling angrily, I try to reign in my hangry. I really, truly try. Usually, it works; that's what makes me a good leader. But today is a day for exceptions it seems. First, the airheadedness, then the stab because I hadn't been careful, and finally stepping in for Molly when it wasn't my place to interfere.
I talk over my stomach rumbling to get to the bottom of the situation. It doesn't take long to get to a conclusion. The civilian doesn't trust us and called back up. I'd done the same.
I'm getting dizzier by the moment as I give orders. I seriously need to sit down. The dark head guy tries to stop everyone as soon as I'm done talking, but I'm already counting how many steps I need to take before I can relax. Ignoring his questions, I walk right through the back and wait for the bartender, chef, or, whatever to unlock the door to a huge back office.
As the bartender lowers the shades, I find the comfiest seat, yup, the massive leather recliner in the corner by a huge open fireplace. I drop into it and ease my aching feet on the glass table. How women wear stilettoes every day is beyond my level of comprehension! It's not just my side that aches, my toes, and calves are killing me. Long live boots, sneakers, and flip-flops. And not getting stabbed. Because that sucks too.
"Make yourself at home," the bartender muttered mirthlessly as he eyes my boots on the glass top. He's probably going to get shit from his boss for letting us use this place. Oh well; right now, I'm officially too dizzy and tired. Not to mention in pain to care. He'll get money for his troubles. Money always wins over rules and expectations.
The ebony-hair guy keeps spitting questions, but I ignore them. He hasn't signed the agreements. Plus I'm in too much pain and dizzy. It's hard to focus and appear unaffected at this point. Damn, I want steak. And a chocolate milkshake with a box of strawberries. And twelve hours of sleep. UNINTERRUPTED. And then an all-you-can-eat buffet for breakfast.
"Relax Darien. It's not what you think. These girls are the good guys, as far as I've seen," answers the civilian. Or Max. I guess that's his name. Then he hands me the burgers and a bottle of Tequila with a glass. I ignore the glass, and open the bottle, intending to take a long swing to ease the pain.
Before I get a chance, the bottle is snatched right out of my grasp. 'The fuck!?'
"You can't drink alcohol or eat until I've treated you." I look up at the loud mouth that's been a thorn since he opened his big mouth.
"Darien, chill k. These chicks had a reason," Max steps beside the idiot, trying to reassure the man as he rubs his neck. "I should have given them a head up I'd called you guys in, instead of springing it on them. That was stupid considering their occupation. And anyways, J wasn't hurting me. Just showing me I was out of line." With that, he nods to J before sitting down on the couch.
"That's why your neck is red?" the doctor doesn't drop it. I huff out under my breath that he's a melodrama queen. His head swivels sharply to me. Shit. I didn't think he'd hear it, but before he can bitch some more, the lawyer sits on the couch next to Max, documents, and cell in hand.
"I've looked over the documents, and they're very thorough, like legally perfect. But what I can't get is your affiliation with Luna and Associates. I've checked you guys out online…"
"What? Show me." The Ken doll walks over and pulls the lawyer's cell to look at our site, and any research the lawyer could have found on us. Which is only what we want the world to see thanks to Amy's hacking abilities.
"You're like, the most in-demand security firm… In the world…" Ken doll has his forehead super scrunched up like he's trying to solve a puzzle. The lawyer's phone gets passed then to the bartender and doctor. Who suddenly find themselves finally speechless.
"Told you guys these girls aren't trouble. I wouldn't have brought them to Keith's place if they were," Max insists.
"All right. Sure. But Luna?" the lawyer persists.
"They're our lawyers. Plus, Luna's firm often contracts us for their clients. That's how we got the contract in the neighboring town. That's all the information you'll get until you sign the wavers." I'm grateful Amy takes the liberty to answer. Even if vaguely, if it gets the ball rolling.
I snatch a burger and take a bite, but the doctor tries to pull that away too. The guy must have a death wish. Taking a woman's food usually gets a man's hand chewed off, doesn't he know this? I chew, glaring at him, as the lawyer explains to the guys the legal documents.
The cop discusses some things with Max, the bartender, and the lawyer in low tones while the doctor keeps doing the standoff with me. His jaw is clenched like he's grinding his molars. If he breaks a tooth, it's his own fault. His glare almost turns incredulous as he watches me decimate the burgers in under three minutes. I wait for the nutrients to kick in, to get steady, planning how I'll snatch that bottle back he's still holding.
Mina hands me the signed documents for my inspection, Amy comes next to me, does a fast online search, and nods when she confirms it's their real signatures. The only one who hasn't signed is the doctor still glaring at me.
"Darien, just sign it and patch her up before she bleeds out all over my office. I have clients scheduled for tomorrow morning. What am I going to tell them if there are blood stains everywhere," the bartender drawls as he presses the papers into the doctor's chest.
"But the amazon was just strangling Max not even five minutes ago."
"That you had a bar fight and it got messy," the cop offers without breaking his glare as he stands next to Rei who keeps scanning the hallway and windows.
"Patients?" Mina asks skeptically.
"This is where I receive my patients. I'm a psychologist."
"Part psycho, part bar owner," Amy supplies after tapping on her phone.
"Please don't go diving into his private life as you did with mine," interrupts Max.
"That's Doctor Keith, ladies. Most people around here like calling me Kunzite. Not psycho. Definitely not bad-bleach job or bartender." He pointedly looks at Mina, who called him several weird descriptions so far, but that's her thing. "And as I'm allowing you to use my private office as your temporary clinic, please leave the bad attitudes and crassness at the door. Guys, drop the glares and tone down your attitudes. As far as what Max insinuated earlier on the group chat, they have fucking Sainthood status in my establishment."
As focus finally slowly filters in, I study the white-haired man. His quiet calmness and diplomatic inclination, not to mention blunt honesty have me grinning. He's a no-bullshit and straight-to-the-point kind of person. The fact that with a couple of words he toned down the heavy tension permeating the room spoke not of years of good quality schooling, but of life experience.
"We appreciate the hospitality and I apologize for our lack of manners and manhandling. We don't exactly socialize. Especially not in our line of work," I concede, as I lower my boots to the floor.
"I wouldn't have allowed you guys to sign those if they weren't legit. Plus it's mostly to protect their client's confidentiality and their own anonymity. In their line of work, it's the only reasonable course of action. For their protection," the lawyer adds as he throws his weight back on the couch and stretches his legs out on the table. Only he gets a smack behind the head from the bartender and a pointed look.
The doctor huffs and sets the bottle on the table as he goes to the desk to sign. I take his distraction for the opening it is and snatch the bottle. Before he realizes, I've already had a couple of deep swallows. The burn goes down well. I rather this pain than the sting in my side.
"Are you serious?! Are you stupid? You're being reckless" he snaps back fast and runs back to snatch the bottle out of my hand. Amy and Mina step in, and the cop hurries to pull the doctor away. Max stands between the two groups.
"Can I please explain to them?" Max glares at me.
"No need. I will." Mina goes on to give an overview of who we are and what we were doing in the other town and how I got hurt. Then she pulls the Tequila bottle right out of the doctor's hands and hands it back to me. I give her a grateful fast nod, a down some more burning goodness. "Treat her. No injections, no pills, no drugs. Understood, doctor?"
"You can't be serious?" he counters, looking at me as if I've lost my mind. "How can I treat her then? Especially if she needs stitches or has internal damage. She should be in the hospital anyways so we can do scans!"
I can't contain my laugh because he's the stupid one. This isn't my first injury. Definitely not the last. And yea, fuck his advice, it's my body and I know what it needs. A couple of shots to numb the pain and food to calm the beast also known as my stomach and ferocious appetite. Screw meds and shots. I'll not touch a pill or drugs for the rest of my life!
"Keep your advice to yourself, Doc. Stitch and patch. And we'll be out of your hair."
"Put it down Blondie," this time he tries to intimidate me with his height and doctor glare.
I can't help the next bubble of laughter that escapes as I take another sip of Tequila. The complication that ensues should have embarrassed me. Instead, I laugh harder as I choke on the sip and spit it all over myself as laughter and coughing coincide.
Listening to a man, whom I barely met ten minutes ago, try to boss me around is beyond preposterous! I can't even remember the last time I took directives from a man, or woman for that matter, other than the four women who saved my life.
His menacing, don't fuck with me glare… Damn! Does he not realize it comes off as adorable instead of intimidating?
The confounded man pulls on his black hair, his midnight blue eyes send daggers my way, and his chiseled jaw clenches at my amusement. He looks at everyone for support. Only, Rei's shaking her head like he's an idiot.
"Is he for real?" asks Mina, tapping me on the back, unimpressed.
"Yea… Not gonna happen, pretty boy," I emphasized the word boy just to rile him up. Considering he's about to stitch me, might not be too smart. But it's just too easy. "We're wasting time and my blood. How about you get to work?"
"I'm serious. I will not treat you if you are going to drink and not listen to my instructions. Or use the medication prescribed if needed."
And now, I've had it.
"Let's get some things straight, doctor. I am not some blond damsel. For one, I have taken down drug lords, terrorists, and dictators just in the past couple of months to keep your fucking peaceful world safe. Second, if I had a dick in my pants, you'd not throw your weight and chauvinism around. But since I have boobs and a uterus, what, that suddenly gives you some free pass to stuff your bullshit beliefs and superior airs in my face. Third, my medic could have stitched me up in under two minutes, in a building under fire, with bullets coming in from every direction. And she'd have handed over the bottle because she would have asked by now if I was okay with pills or shots to numb the pain. Which I'm FUCKING not. So, you are going to keep your chauvinist, condescending remarks, finish signing the damn waiver and stitch me up good. Then I'll pay you the ten grand promised and we'll never see each other again. Understood, doctor," I drawl the last word for the insult and joke it is.
Darien
Was it possible to want to strangle someone on principle only? It certainly would alleviate the tension forming at my temples. I can't remember the last time anyone talked back to me or questioned my doctoring skills. Never by a woman who looks half my size.
She looks like a fallen angel with her cute button nose, light cherry blossom-colored lips, and oval face framed by long messy ash blond hair. There's a sweet and innocent look about the woman, except for her eyes. Calling them arresting is an understatement. Because you certainly don't see that shade of sparkly, clear blue summer sky often. Especially when it's combined with the shrewdness and calculation she's aiming at me.
She stares me down in a way that says she can handle any situation. She lifts her tank top to reach under to hold onto her bleeding side as she takes another freaking sip. Great looks, total confidence combined with a sailor's mouth, and attitude to spare. Just my luck!
It doesn't help that her ample cleavage and well-defined arms are covered in tequila droplets testing my professional detachment. How can such a beautiful woman be so confounding, even vexing, to the point of driving me up the walls within meeting her?
But it's not just her words and body that frustrate me. No. Rage boils right behind my vexation. But it's not directed at her, as much as what's been done to her. The young woman has two bullet scars on her left shoulder, a long stab wound in her right abdomen, and slashes, cuts, and scars to spare wherever her skin is exposed. They tell a story. A story of what these women have survived and done.
The coldness in their eyes, the distance and mistrust, these are women who have seen their share of horrors.
As a doctor, I hate to witness people in pain. But for them to continue this line of work, I just can't understand it. Jack has tried to explain to me his reasons for joining the navy. To no avail. To each their own lives and choices. And as much as I wish violence is not a reality, I can only hope that these women, especially my patient, would choose a safer occupation before their lives are cut short.
I can honestly say it would be a waste. There's a story to her, energy and mystery that sucks people in and makes them want to know more. Even when they know better. And I realized part of my anger stems from that. The interest this ash blond is awakening in me makes me uncomfortable. Women chase me. They don't ever flip me off at every chance they get.
I turn to the desk exasperated by the events of the day and sign the nondisclosure. I rummage through my med bag and pull out all my things before pulling on a pair of gloves. Reigning in my runaway thoughts, I focus solely on the task at hand from that point onward.
I kneel on the floor on the woman's side and pull off the soaked-through bandage as her medic, from what I surmise, comes to stand next to me. I throw the bloody gauze on the table only to get smacked by Keith as he puts a trash basket next to me.
"Keep my office blood free, will you?"
My patient laughs and talks to Keith as if this is a manicure instead of a medical emergency. Make this WFT number thirty-five. How can she aim all that attitude at me a second ago and be nothing but perfect manners as she discusses some details of what happened with a slight British posh accent? Especially as I'm probing around the gaping wound. This woman is a walking talking contradiction.
"You should have gone to the hospital, the puncture is not that deep but it is close to the liver and the bleeding is hard to staunch," I observe after cleaning the cut. How she's moving, drinking, and eating without bending in agony was ludicrous. "A scan would show if there's any potential internal damage."
"Sorry, can't do that. Patch me up as best you can and if anything, I'll have our surgeon look after it once we fly home," she counters.
"I wouldn't recommend flying until the bleeding has stopped. Which it won't if you keep on drinking and moving."
"He's right, Serena. You're bleeding should have at least slowed. The wound's red around the edges, and your skin has a yellow tint. What the hell did you get cut with?" The punk blue-hair medic adds as she examines the wound.
"A fire iron," she replies lightly. Hearing her name catches my attention, diverting my focus. Her real name, and not the Cresc they keep calling her. What's driving me nuts is how unaffected she is at almost being stabbed to death. Three inches higher, and it would have pierced the liver… How many close encounters has she had with serious injuries and death calls to be so flippant about the seriousness of this situation?
"It's probably infected and she'll need antibiotics and rest. Preferably no travel. I'll stitch it but you need to check it for the usual infection symptoms," I instruct the medic. "I know what you said about meds, but if it's affected, she's going to need them.
"Will an ointment be enough or will she need something stronger?"
"The ointment should be enough for tonight, but you'll know by morning. I'll write a prescription."
"Don't bother, I have most of the stuff on hand."
"Okay. Do you want me to numb the area before I start the stitches?" Five pairs of noes come my way before I can pull out my supplies.
"Here. I'm good," my patient passes the bottle to the medic who takes a swig before handing it to the Disney fan who does the same and passes the bottle along to the other two women.
The ash blond just closes her eyes and counts quietly as I stitch the muscle and skin back together. She doesn't flinch or falter in her count. Instead, with each puncture, her breathing evens. It's like having to treat Rambo stuck in a Marylin Monroe body. The only display of discomfort is her white knuckles and tightly closed fists. As gently as I can, I rub antibiotic ointment around the stitches when I'm done.
Before I can bandage the wound, the Disney girl hands a cell to my patient who suddenly looks apprehensive.
"Ja…" the change in her accent was instantaneous. "Uppdrag slutfört. Jag fick ett litet sår men vi flyger ut imorgon… Jag sa att allt är bra. Vi kommer... Förstått." Her frown deepens with every exchange, even as her tone stays neutral. Grinding her jaw, she passes the phone to the medic who takes the call in the hall.
By the time I'm done patching her up, checking her vitals, putting away my tools, and washing my hands, the mood in the room is back to explosive. Disney, the medic, and my patient are arguing in a foreign language, while the amazon and raven-haired lookout seem ready to break up the fight.
"I can't fucking believe this!" curses my patient as she storms out of the room followed by the amazon.
After arguing between themselves for another minute, the lookout turns toward Max. "Is there a place, preferably secluded, that we can rent? Cash."
"I'll find us something," the medic insists, but the lookout stops her.
"These guys pose us no threat. I watched them. You've checked their bios. Plus, anything you find last minute now will ask for credit cards and names. And while I know you can erase our footprint; we need to stay put until they call back and fucking explain. This is the easiest and first course of action and you know it. I'm sick and tired of sleeping in the Jeeps," the lookout reasons.
"You can rent my lodge up the mountain. It's nothing more than a shack, but it's got two bunk beds and a sofa, a small kitchen, and a bathroom. You can make do for a couple of days. But before I give you the keys, I need some answers," Jack offers.
I can't believe he's offering these strangers his hunting lodge just like that. I get Zack did check their background and they are affiliated with some kind of fancy lawyers. And yes, they did us all a favor by getting those sickos off our streets. But we still know next to nothing about them…
"Like?" the Disney chick crosses her arms as she questions suspiciously.
"I'm the head of police of this town. I need to know you aren't bringing any danger to our doorstep."
"Aren't you a bit young for that position?" teases the lookout without looking his way.
"Jack Danielson. A.k.a. Jed or Jadeite. Former marine. Five tours in Afghanistan. Relieved of duty due to paralyzed left leg after being in a vehicle thrown by an explosion. Therapy one year. Joined the local police academy, degree with honors and recommendations. Worked his way up. Slate clean. Too clean." The medic provides, looking through her cell. I guess she's a hacker too. What kind of security firm are they?
"Are you done hacking all our lives," growls Max.
"Nope. My team's security means I will look everything up until I'm sure it's safe."
"Then you must understand how we feel," counters Jack. "You appear in our town, out of the blue, take down a threat, according to your explanations, that needed squashing. And from what I caught of your discussions, you're suddenly grounded and staying. I'd like to know why. I need to know no heat will be brought to our doorstep because you linger here longer than you planned."
"We didn't squash a threat; we squished an underage porn creator and distributor. You're welcome for keeping your kids safer. As for heat following us here. Not possible, we barely ever work in this country. And we've made it our mission to never leave footprints. In and out. We're called ghosts for a reason."
"We're grounded until our… Doctor… Says Serena is cleared. For now, our instructions are to stay put. Forced vacation… For all of us. We pose no threat to the town or the people in it. We won't be in your way more than needed as we need to keep our anonymity," Disney replies calmly but firmly.
"How long you've been doing this line of work?" I can't help asking.
"Since before you grew facial hairs," at Disney's seriousness, the blood drains from my face. She can't be serious! Can she?
"Our past is nothing we wish to revisit, especially as it's Amy's B-day! So, if we're all done, how about we go have those planned drinks? By now, the moon and stars are probably out and that should lighten up Serena's mood. So, let's get drinking," Disney changes the subject while pushing the women out of the room, toward the pub's dock.
I look at the guys in stunned amazement. What the hell did we get dragged into? And who were these women? How long were they staying for?
We had more questions than answers and that didn't sit well with me.
* I want to take a second to apologize for my lack of medical knowledge, which probably shows in the shitty descriptions of Darien's treatment. If you're a medical student, nurse, or doc and can suggest how to make it sound better, you'd be my writing's lifesaver. Pun intended. And I apologize if I get any Swedish off. Google translate only does so much... Hope you enjoyed it!
Also, to help clear up the names and characters, here's what's been disclosed so far.
Scout Special Ops Security Firm
Command – Serena A.k.a. Cresc / Crescent
Second Command – Mina A.k.a. V / Venus
Medic/Hacker – Amy A.k.a. Merc / Mercury
Muscle / Weapons – Lita A.k.a. J / Jupiter
Snipper / Infiltration – Rei A.k.a Mar / Mars
Small town Heroes
Doctor: Darien Shields (35)
Firefighter / former MMA champion: Maxfield Stanton (29) A.k.a Neph / Nephrite
Psychologist / Pub owner: Keith Caine A.k.a Kun / Kunzite
Cop / former marine: Jack Danielson A.k.a. Jed / Jadeite.
Lawyer: Zack