So great to see you guy's support. The last chapter ended on a cliffhanger, yes, but you're gonna have to be patient on that. There are some other things that need to come to light.
I do not own Ben 10
ABC = Talk
ABC = Thoughts or Flashbacks
Chapter 7: Those in the Shadows
You must remember everything is connected. The cog of a clock turns to move the one next to it. Their actions lead to another and run the machine. Such also is the same as a city and its' people. Peace begets Peace. Violence begets violence. Greed begets greed. Anger begets anger. Kindness begets kindness. So on and so on it goes.
There are no cogs in a city but there are shadows. In the shadows, people whisper. In the shadows, deals are made. There are spies in the shadows. They are hired eyes that prowl through the cracks and crevices of the city. They survey, steal, and kill. Are they players of the game or are they just pawns?
A young Plumber stood nervously on the empty sidewalk. Still dressed in his green guard uniform, he tried not to stand out keeping close to the shadows of a nearby alleyway. He continued to watch the streets. There haven't been any cars or midnight strollers, fortunately. His fingers fidgeted with the contents of his pocket. He looked down the street again.
"Dammit, where is he?" the young man wondered. It was getting late and he didn't want this deal to drag out any longer. He glanced behind him, into the alleyway. It was so dark. Every little noise was amplified. A shiver went down his spine. There was the feeling of being watched again. He chalked it up to his anxiety. He took a breath. He needed to relax.
"If he ditched…" he shook his head. He had thought about just going home but he would be screwed either way. Another sound from behind, like a breath. His head snapped around. It was pitch black and his eyes were straining to see anything. Was he going insane? He's been feeling like a ghost has been trailing him all day. Now he was sweating. Did he just see a shadow sprint across the wall? There must be someone out there but the only thing he could focus on now was the thumping of his heart against his ear.
"Boo!" he jolted at a sudden hand on his shoulder. He spun around, clutching at his chest, to be greeted by the mocking smile of his friend.
"Bastard!" the young Plumber shouted at him.
"Quiet down," his friend scolded though still snickering. He was a slightly older man and looked just how every Splitter was described by the Plumbers. He was a vagrant. His clothes were baggy and unkempt, a loose hanging jack over a sleeveless shirt and dirty looking jeans. "You weren't followed, were you?" he asked, circling his friend.
"No!" the Plumber barked.
"You're sure?" the man's eyes scanned the streets and rooftops, "I don't want to think you incompetent…or worse, maybe you fit a little too well in that uniform," he poked the young man in the chest.
"Fuck you!" he batted the hand away, "I've risked my ass for you people. Where's my promise of protection?"
"If all goes well, then you'll have it, but you don't get anything for free. Those are the boss's rules, not mine," the Splitter stated, "You promised us some high tech, where is it?" he noted that the young man had come empty-handed.
The young Plumber started fidgeting and adverted his gaze. "I…I don't have any," he admitted.
"What?!" the Splitter exclaimed and clutch the other's shirt in rage, "You promised to deliver us high-level Plumber tech!"
"I said I might be able to get that! I never promised anything!" the Plumber quickly defended. The man wasn't having it though. He threw the frightened kid against the alley wall. "Calm down! I can still get you something!" he pleaded.
"you're backing off on our bargain," the Splitter hissed.
"No! That stuff is under heavy lock and key. Only the Magister and his top generals have access to it," the young man argued.
"Then we have no deal," the rogue man stated and was about to walk away.
"Wait!" the Plumber grabbed to stop him. he then pulled a flash drive out of his pocket.
"Wha is it?" the rogue man asked with peak interest.
The Plumber grinned, "Info's better than weapons. I've got secrets, codes, all the dirt you could want on their top brass," he waved the drive temptingly. That got his accomplice's full attention. The man surged forward to grab it, impatient. Smiling, the Plumber kept it just out of his reach.
"How did you get those?!" the Splitter asked.
"They don't much attention to us on the lowest tier. I easily could sneak through files and listen in on them. They don't take us seriously," the Plumber explained, "So how about a deal?"
"We already have a deal," the Splitter stated.
"We had a deal. I think the ball is in my court now," the Plumber argued. At this, the other man laughed. He snickered and shook his head in disbelief before pulling out a knife and pointing it at the Plumber's throat.
"Be very careful. I could easily kill you if I feel for a moment you're a risk to us," he threatened, moving the tip closer to his neck.
The Plumber gulped, "…You need me though…and you need this," he dangled the drive in-between them. The Splitter smiled; he admitted the kid had some balls. A sudden loud clang broke them apart. From the darkness, an empty can rolled into view. The Splitter eyed it curiously then shot daggers at the Plumber. The kid quickly shook his head.
"You better not be setting me up, kid," the Splitter growled.
"I swear on my life I didn't," the Plumber swore. Not the best of choice of words in the other's opinion. The Splitter sneered and walked up to the can. He Kicked it back into the darkness and was rewarded by heard it hit a far-off wall. He stepped forward a little, not enough to enter the shadows, and listened. Not a peep.
He smiled smugly, "Just jumping at shadows," he snickered. Those were his last words. A throwing knife struck him in the back of his neck. He collapsed to the ground, dead with blood pouring from his neck and mouth. The young Plumber could only watch in horror. It happened so fast. His legs trembled. He turned to run but was met with the barrel of a gun. He stumbled back and onto the ground. His chest heaved as he stared up at the intruder. To his shock, it looked like a kid, thirteen years old maybe. He was dressed in all black. A hood shrouded his face, but he could still the indifferent expression on his face as he pointed his gun at him. Who the hell was this kid?! A mugger? A junior thug?
"The drive," the kid suddenly said.
"H-huh?" the Plumber barely stuttered out a response.
"The drive you stole. Where is it?" this mysterious kid demanded. The Plumber froze. He knew everything. This kid was more than some random mugger. That ever so familiar shiver ran up and down his spine. He was facing the ghost that had been trailing him all along. The kid placed his finger on the trigger and aimed it closer to his head.
"Okay! Okay!" the Plumber quickly held out the drive for him. The kid took it and thankfully lowered the gun away from him. The kid turned away, examining the drive. Panic was rising. This kid knew that drive was important, but he's not even running away with it. He's not a mugger. Was he with the Plumbers? An assassin? He couldn't risk being arrested. That brute was dead but maybe he could still strike a deal with the Splitter's boss if he got that drive to him. With a shaky hand, he reached behind and grabbed his gun, the last resort. He pulled it out, aimed it, and…
BANG!
The Plumber fell, dead, a bullet placed cleanly through his head. The mysterious kid remained standing. He had the speed of a cobra, shooting before the guy could even touch the trigger. His smoking gun was still aimed at the lifeless traitor, but his eyes were still glued to the drive.
"Idiot," he sighed and put his gun away. What kind of dealers don't bring any backup? He pulled out a Plumber badge, "Shadow agent Hawk speaking. A traitor and Splitter have been dealt with in North sector C. Send cleanup.," he drawled into the badge.
"Copy that. Sending aid," a voice answered him. He sighed again, putting his badge away than sitting atop a nearby dumpster. He pulled out a pack of gum and began fervently chewing on a piece. His eyes flickered over to the two corpses then back to the drive he was mindlessly playing with between his fingers.
"Why do I always get the easy ones?"
A decent gather of Plumbers quickly arrived at the scene. Among them was General Kronos. he surveyed the scene with a heavy heart. The word he dreaded to hear over the radio still rung in his ears. Traitors. He had heard the whispers among his colleagues, the conspiracies, about the possibility of traitors within their walls. He didn't want to believe but it was looking like he was having less of a choice these days. He entered the alley and saw the first corpse. A young man still clad in Plumber patrol gear. Just ahead of him there was an older man in dirty ragged clothes, most likely a Splitter. He then saw a preteen sitting on a dumpster watching his crew work with a bored expression. He eyed the kid with interest. A Shadow called this in, and it was this kid. The Shadow Agents were the silent assassins of this city, only to be used in dire situations to cease harm on the Plumbers. There were only a few in this city and Kronos took effort not to associate with them often, he rarely even saw them. He approached the preteen.
"You called this in?" he asked.
The Shadow Agent looked his way. "Yeah," he replied, as though obvious. He stiffened up a bit and gave a lazy salute, "Hunter Hawk, Shadow Agent Omega. Here's the drive they stole," he handed the device over to the general. Kronos took it in a moment of surprise. The kid knew his protocol at least.
"Alright…dismissed then," Kronos said and pointed him towards his car. Hunter gave a brief nodded before walking away. Kronos watched him go in shock. There was such a dull look in that kid's eyes. He had to shake that away, he still had a job to do. He walked over to the older man's body. He had to make sure. He knelt down and pulled back the loose-fitting jack just enough to reveal his shoulder. There it was. A tattoo in the image of the Plumber's badge symbol with a scar slashing right through it. Damn, he was a Splitter. All of Kronos' fears were coming true. The Splitters were getting bolder and worse working with some of their own.
"Clean this up, please," Kronos ordered his men as he left the alley. He approached his car. Hunter was there waiting. "Get in. I'm sure the Magister will want to see you," he told him.
"Sure," Hunter replied and quickly got in. Kronos sighed. Another restless night he thought as he got in and drove them both back to the base.
Kronos approached the doors to Magister Xavier's office. Hunter had been following silently behind him. Kronos knocked on the door.
"Enter," Xavier answered inside. Kronos entered. The Magister was sitting at his desk, back to his visitors as he stared out into the city. It was a common sight he had seen from the Magister. He always seemed to be searching for something or maybe someone.
"Sir," Kronos spoke for his attention.
"Do you have a report for me?" Xavier asked, still facing the city, "Is it what we feared?"
"Yes, I have two dead bodies. One a Splitter, the other a traitor trying to make a deal with them," Kronos reported. He could the Magister's fist clench, to the point of seeing veins. The Magister swiftly spun around. He eyed Hunter.
"You, Agent," he pointed at Hawk, "Your report."
"Same as the generals'," Hunter responded, "One traitor and one Splitter dead. They were trying to cut a deal. The traitor wanted to sell weapons for his own safety but could only offer data."
"Where is this data?" Xavier asked.
"We have it," Kronos butted in, showing him the drive. Xavier nodded, a little relieved but returned his attention to the preteen.
"Were there any others?" he asked.
"No," Hunter replied.
"Did they mention any other names?" the Magister question with more fervent interest.
"No," Hunter replied the same. There was a pause. The Magister took in a steadying breath, then released it.
"You're free to go," Xavier then stated. Hunter nodded and exited the room.
As soon as the door closed, "Why is thirteen-year-old a part of the Shadow Agents?" Kronos asked.
Xavier shot him a glare, "His family is part of the Agents. He came with them," he replied.
"And you're okay with that?!" Kronos exclaimed.
"They were assigned to the city. I had no say on who," Xavier rebutted, "Priorities first, Nic. Traitors in our midst is troubling news."
Kronos nodded, though begrudgingly, "Yes. It seems to be prevalent only in the lower ranks."
"We shouldn't make that assumption. It can easily spread up the ladder," Xavier stated, "I need people I can trust."
The doors opened. Kronos turned and saw General Ramsey walk in. Their eyes met briefly. General Levi Ramsey, a man who was by the book in every regard though with seemingly hidden self-ambition. Kronos always watched him with caution. Not because he believes him to be a traitor, but he's wary of what he'll do to achieve his own agenda. Ramsey broke away from him and turned to the Magister, offering a salute.
"You called for me, sir," he said.
"Yes. I'm sure you're aware of rumors of treachery. Kronos just arrived from a deal gone bad between a traitor and a Splitter," Xavier explained.
Ramsey spun towards Kronos, panicked. "Their deal went sour. They have nothing," Kronos reassured him.
"Tch, the Splitters are getting bolder," Ramsey hissed, "This is bad. We should start rooting them out before it gets any worse!"
"Don't be too hasty, Levi," Kronos quickly stated, "We have to be careful."
"Careful?!" Ramsey exclaimed, "If we hesitate they'll keep pushing, thinking us weak. Then it'll be too late. They're just unruly thugs right now. We should crush them already."
"That's enough, Ramsey!" Xavier exclaimed. His harsher tone broke to two apart, "We cannot underestimate, and we cannot assume! Both of you remember that," he criticized them. Kronos nodded in agreement. Ramsey grimaced but nodded as well. Xavier sighed, "When hunting roaches if you turn the light on to find them they scatter quickly. You'll never catch them that way."
"So we set up traps. They'll take easy bait," Ramsey surmised.
"People are trickier than roaches," Kronos rebutted, "Smarter and far more cautious."
Xavier hummed, thinking. "…Let's be patient and wait."
"But sir!" Ramsey started.
"Do as I say," the Magister scolded, "I'm not too concerned about the small fry. They're easily dealt with, as we've seen tonight. If there are more in more prominent positions we need to strike at the right moment. As long as they think we're oblivious, the more likely they'll slip up."
"And we catch them," Kronos added.
"I'm putting my trust in you two. Keep vigilant but be careful," Xavier commanded. The two generals nodded back. "Good. You're both free to go," he dismissed them before sitting back at his desk and resuming staring out at the city. Ramsey briskly turned and left. Kronos stared at the Magister for a moment more before turning to leave as well. Xavier heard the door click shut. He let out a breath and stared solemnly out into the city.
"How long are you going to keep hiding," he thought to himself, his eye still searching.
Meanwhile, Hunter walked the halls, head down, and tired. He was thankful it was early. There weren't many people crowding him that way. He caught his reflection in a nearby window. He groaned. His usual blue eyes were looking dull and tired. He rubbed his face. He had short black hair and his face was frequently covered by the shadow of a hood. His eyes were the only thing bright about him. he shook away the tiredness and lowered his hands from his face. Not much better. He had to just ignore it for now. He quickened down the hall until he arrived at a door. He entered into a small meeting room. It was dark and basic looking; a small table surrounded by a few chairs. Hunter didn't want to spend to much time here. He crossed the room in a rush to reach the door on the other side. He quickly entered and walked down some stairs. A light was coming from downstairs. Hunter paused. Someone else was here this early? He continued down and entered a far more pleasant room. It was a small lounge. Plain couches surround a coffee table and a small kitchenette to the side. There were three doors off the side that led to bedrooms. This was his home for most of his life, small spaces with barely a foot between work and normal life. he heard someone grunting from the floor below. He heading toward the railing in front of him. There was a training area below filled with practice dummies for combat, a sparring area, and a tiny gun range. A woman was practicing on a dummy, using a combination of martial arts and a knife.
"Naomi!" he called out to her. She stopped and turned up to him.
She smiled, "You're back!" she put her weapon down and started up the stair towards him.
"Why are you up early?" Hunter asked, watching her.
Naomi approached him and shrugged, "I was out on a mission last night. Got back not too long ago. I can't get back to sleep after that. Plus, I was worried about you."
"You shouldn't," Hunter stated and sat down on the sofa.
"Why shouldn't I worry about my little brother?" she sat across from him.
"Because I can take care of myself," he argued. Naomi was only three years older than him. she always seemed to insist on acting like a mother to him which could get annoying, especially as he got older. He easily killed two men tonight, he could probably handle anything with ease. He figured she only did that since he never really knew his actual mother, having died when he was too young to recall. Naomi remembered her better. She told him he had their mothers' eyes. Naomi inherited their father's dark brown color and had black hair that she kept tied in a braided ponytail.
"Well you can't stop me," she smiled at him. it always surprised him what a bright smile she had, despite their line of work. "That's what family does."
"Family," Hunter paused at that word. He raised a brow at her, "Have you heard anything from dad?" he asked her.
Naomi slumped. Her smile vanished, "No…nothing…I don't even know where he is now," she answered solemnly.
Hunter rolled his eyes, "What a surprise." Maybe that was another reason he like his eyes, he didn't get them from his father. They had come with their father to this place two years ago. He had stayed with them for a year before bailing and leaving them here. He didn't know where he had gone. He only told them that he had a mission and that they would be better off here. Hunter didn't know how much he believed that. As far as he could care, he ditched them like this place was some kind of demented daycare.
"We don't know what he's doing. He might not be able to," Naomi suggested. Always the optimist, his sister.
"Maybe he's dead," Hunter shrugged.
"Hunter!" she exclaimed at him.
"It's been over a year, Naomi. Whatever it is, he's not coming back," He stated to her. They both grew silent. Naomi looked down and played mindlessly with her hands. Hunter sighed, "Why were so early anyway?" he attempted to change the subject.
"Sudden mission. They're wanting me to trail suspected Splitters," she explained.
"And?" Hunter pressed.
"So far nothing. It may all be a dead end," she admitted, "I'm sure they're hoping for more lead on the Splitter leader. Hmpf, no luck there," she huffed.
"Sounds boring," Hunter laughed.
"Well maybe I can take your jobs then," Naomi snickered.
"Too bad I'm a better shot than you," Hunter bragged.
"Is that a challenge?" Naomi stood and starting walking down to the lower level.
"What are you doing?" Hunter called down to her.
"Come on! Show me how good you are!" She stood by the gun range, waving for him to join her. Hunter shook his head, but it was probably better to indulge her rather than argue. He hurried downstairs and strutted up to her.
"You'll lose whatever you're betting on," he chided.
"I just want to see what you've got," she said as she hung up a target, "maybe you're scared."
"No way," Hunter huffed.
Naomi smirked and moved the target roughly halfway down the range, "Prove it then." Hunter raised a brow at her. He nudged her aside and moved the target even further back, as far as it could go. Naomi huffed, folding her arms, "Okay, show off. You only get one shot," she challenged.
Hunter smirked and grabbed a handgun off to the side. He wasn't opposed to showing a bit of cockiness, especially when he had the skill to back it up. He aimed carefully. His hands were steady. His smirk disappeared and was replaced by sheer focus. All outside distractions had to be blocked, that's what he learned when he was taught how to shoot. He took a breath. All he saw was the target ahead. He fired. He barely moved aside from the small kickback of the gun. He blinked a few times, having to break out of the little trance he was in. He heard Naomi move the target towards them.
"Not bad, but not perfect," She shrugged, "It's just a little off the center." She pointed to the target's head. The hole was just a little to the side of the bullseye.
"It would've been an eyeshot. Still a kill," He pointed it out to her. Another win for him. He took the target down with a smile. He could feel Naomi's eyes studying him. He glanced over to her and noticed a worrying expression.
"What?" He asked her
Naomi blinked then shook her head, "It's nothing, don't worry about it." Hunter cocked his brow. She sure was weird at times.
"You two sure are loud," Hunter tensed at that unsavory voice. He hated its owner. He turned around a saw their final member staring down at them.
"Sorry to wake you, Clint," Naomi apologized to him, though trying to hold back her disgust at him. Clint Rogur, a man in his mid-twenties with light brown messy hair, dark eyes, and brandishing a smug smirk. Every day, Hunter wanted to wipe that look from existence. Clint had been here longer than either of them. Somehow that made him believe he held some level of authority over them.
"I was enjoying my night off too," Clint said in his usual smug drawl as he descended towards them.
"Shadow Agents don't take nights off," Hunter spat at him.
"Says who?" Clint snickered, "I guess I could train and disturb the peace like you two, but nah."
"Cause you're lazy," Hunter sneered.
Clint chuckled, "So you say," he examined the target, "Ooh, a little off today."
"Did you just come out to mock me?" Hunter growled.
"Oh no, no!" Clint held his hands up in defense, though with a jesting manner, "You're probably tired. Long night, right? How'd it go? Too easy? Not fun? Probably true for a little stick in the mud like yourself," he pestered him further. Hunter's rage was growing. This was Clint. He never took anything seriously. This job was a game to him. It was disgusting, almost like he took some sick joy from it all. Clint was the kind of man who would brag about killing his own mother as she was giving birth to him.
"Enough Clint, I'm sure you have better things to do than bother with us," Naomi quickly stepped in between the two. She kept a steady hand placed on her brother's chest, keeping him in place despite his opposing huff.
Clint shrugged, "Oh come on, missy, just trying to be friendly. Not my fault if your brother is a rude little git."
"Better than some psychopath like you," Hunter lurched forwards, pushing past his sister to get in the man's face. He stopped when he felt something poke at his stomach. He looked down and saw the tip of Clint's knife touching his abdomen. Hunter became rigid. Clint always had a hidden knife somewhere on him, why did he think today would be any different.
"Still haven't learned to control that impulsive mouth of yours," Clint sneered as he prodded his stomach with the knife. Hunter winced much to Clint's glee, "I keep warning you, that's gonna get you in deep shit soon." Hunter stood completely still; one wrong move could put the blade through his abdomen. He didn't want to give any satisfaction to Clint's little game though. His only option was to glare up at the man. Clint's smug sneer greeted him. He was getting pleasure from this, no doubt.
"Enough! Back off Clint!" Naomi exclaimed. Clint's beady black eyes looked over to her for a brief moment before returning to Hunter. Hunter held his glare strong, unwavering.
Clint huffed, "Fine," he pulled his knife away, "honestly, it gets boring fighting with you." Hunter snarled in anger. Naomi was quick to hold him back. The whole exchange just made Clint laugh, "Hold on tight to that leash, missy."
"You've had your fun. Just go," Naomi stated.
Clint smirked and turned away from them, "Fine, but you know I'm right, missy." He tossed his knife in the air as he sauntered away. "You'll admit it when he's found dead in a ditch thanks to his dumb ass." A bullet then struck the blade and knocked it out of the air. It startled him. He turned and saw Hunter pointing his handgun at him, a murderous glint in his eyes.
Clint chuckled and tapped the back of his head, "You missed, little bird." He picked up his knife and left the two, laughing all the way. Hunter shook with anger. His hand that was holding the gun turned white from his hatred. Naomi came and wrenched the weapon from his hand.
"You shouldn't have done that," she scolded him.
"I should've shot him!" he snapped at her, "Why do you keep defending him?!"
"I'm not! But you keep playing into his games! Be better than him, Hunter!" she argued.
"I am better!" Hunter exclaimed. He ran up the stairs towards his room, "I don't need to prove anything to him, and I don't need you holding me back!" he exclaimed right before he went into his room, slamming the door behind him. He leaned against the door, breathing hard and trying to calm down. He then winced and hissed. He looked down and lifted his shirt up. With a trembling hand, he brushed his fingers over the wound made by Clint's knife. It wasn't deep, but it had done enough to break the skin as he noted the trickle of blood seeping from it.
"That bastard," he slid to the floor. He was still shaking expect now it had spread to his entire body. He dug inside his pocket and pulled out his pack of gum. His quivering fingers were barely useful as he pulled a piece out and tossed it in his mouth. His breathing steadied with every couple of chews. The pack of gum was being crushed by his trembling hand.
"Dammit," he whispered to himself. This was the way it always was. Clint would always aggravate him, and Naomi would always do nothing. Clint would pay eventually; he was going to make sure of that. With every ounce of his being, he would blast Clint off the pedestal he so proudly put himself on. He was much better suited for it anyway. Better than some lazy narcissist. How he'd even get this far with the Plumbers anyway?
Hunter sighed and leaned his head back. He was tired. He needed a nap and a bandage for his wound.
Clint entered the Shadow Agent's meeting room. He snickered as he could still hear the Hawk siblings bickering shouts. Children. Clint clicked his tongue. He knew instantly those two would be a pain the moment they arrived. But they were part of the Hawk. Such an esteemed family of killers. Though that might have ended with their coward of a father, wherever he was now? Did he expect him to watch them while he was gone? Maybe, but no. That's not how it worked in this organization. It's every dog for themselves. Besides, those kids were fine on their own.
Clint pulled out his knife and examined it, "Egh! Damn kid," he groaned as he saw a mark damaging his otherwise beautiful blade. Hunter was a good shot when he actually tried; when he was fueled by that desire to kill.
"I'll fix it later," he yawned, tired and hungry. He put the knife back in its sheath and walked to the door across the room. He opened it and was immediately stopped by a stubby little man standing before him.
"Oh, sorry to disturb you so early, but I was told this was where the Shadow Agents lived," the man stumbled a bit as he gazed up at him, looking only slightly terrified.
"Mmmhmm," Clint nodded. He examined the man head to toe. He was shorter than him by a head. He had a plump body, clearly not like the soldiers or generals he was used to interacting with. His uniform was pristine, there wasn't a fleck of dirt or stray thread anywhere to be seen. Even his boots were shiny and well-polished like they never treaded on the smallest patch of dirt. No doubt he was from the upper echelon, those run this city from a cushy office instead of daring to roam outside when it inconvenienced them. Clint held back the bile forming in his throat. This should be fun.
"Great! Louis Crum, part of the trade masters here in the city," the man outstretched his hand in greeting. Yep, snooty upper management, just as Clint suspected.
"Clint Rogur, Shadow Agent Alpha," Clint shook Louis's hand.
"Ah, so you're the leader here then," Crum looked a little more excited.
"I suppose," Clint said, eyebrow raised.
"Then you're just the man I'm looking for," Crum grinned, "I need your help."
Clint hummed, examined the stubby little man with skepticism, "You can go to the generals or the Magister if you'd like to put in a request," he stated and moved to shut the door.
"This is urgent!" Crum rushed to stop him, "I would like your help…I could pay you." This offered some renewed interest. A trade master who wanted to create a deal. How desperate could he be?
"Twenty bucks," Clint stated.
"Huh? Oh…okay," Crum reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, "Are the Shadow Agents that cheap?" he held the twenty-dollar bill out.
Clint snatched it quickly, "No it covers a coffee and croissant from the café down the street. You're making miss breakfast for this crap," Clint ushered him inside. Crum obliged though mildly confused. He watched the Agent warily as he was directed to sit, which he did. Clint sat across from him.
"So, what do you need from us, dear trade master," Clint grinned down at him, placing his feet up on the table.
Louis gulped, "…Protection."
"For you?"
"For some of my stock?" he clarified.
Clint huffed, disappointed, "You do know that we're not guards for hire, Mr. Crum. Our skills are a bit more…specialized than that. Don't you have some flunkies to toss around?"
"This is important!" Crum shouted at the agent. It didn't seem to faze him, so he quickly composed himself, "What I mean is I need some additional…service to protect my charges."
"From what? Splitters?" Clint asked, eyeing him a bit more harshly.
"…Possibly. I don't know for sure," Crum responded. His hesitance was interesting.
"You don't know?" Clint leaned in with curiosity.
Crum leaned back and his eye found a sudden interest in the floor, "There have been individuals stalking around my warehouses. I can't tell for sure if they're with the Splitters. It's a reasonable guess though, no?"
Clint shrugged, "Perhaps. You just want me there to keep some thieves away. Seems a bit extreme."
"If that property is stolen, the city suffers," Crum hissed.
"And so would you, no?" Clint snickered.
Crum flinched but didn't deny, "I need that stock to be secure. It's important. It'll be my ass on the line if it turns up missing," he leaned forward and grinned pleadingly, "You aid in protecting the city from the…degenerates and you're good at it from what I've heard. This might not be what you're used to, but I would hope you would aid me in keeping in order in this poor city. Clint cocked his brow. Why was he indulging this greasy little worm? A desperate plea did little to tug at his heart, but it was amusing at least.
"You're a good salesman, Mr. Crum," Clint offered a thin smile, "But no." His answer abruptly erased the smile on Crum's face.
"What!? You Agents can't just refuse a request!" Crum stood up. His tune has changed, Clint noted. Salesmen don't like hearing "No" after all.
"Ah, ah," Clint waggled his finger, "I most certainly can. Especially if I feel it's a waste of my time."
Crum snarled, "A waste of your time?" he stood up and walked around to the Agent, "Your time is of no concern. If fact, my time is the only thing you should be concerned about. You're starting to waste mine and that can put you in an extremely dangerous situation."
Clint grinned, "You should be more careful about who you threaten, Mr. Crum."
Crum grew more impatient, slamming his fist down in front of him, "Take your own advice! Before you and your job end up hurdling off a cliff!"
In an instant, Clint brought down his knife on Crum's arm. Crum panicked. His scowl vanished, instead replaced by utter horror. He grabbed at his arm. The blade pierced his sleeve only, which was a relief but was now stuck in the table. He could barely move and couldn't budge the knife at all. He turned his gaze up at his captor. He had never been a soldier. He never traveled across the galaxy with the Plumbers and saw the horrifying creatures that filled the cosmos. This must be what it felt like to be trapped by such a monster. Those near-black eyes seared into his mind and soul, and they weren't going to miss.
Clint hummed to himself as he tapped the tip of the knife's handle. "You know what my father did, Mr. Crum?" he then stated. Crum said nothing. His throat had turned dry. Clint didn't wait for an answer though, "He was an exterminator. He was a cheap man. Didn't like hiring any help so he dragged me along on his business. Learned a lot though, how to stalk your prey, setting traps, all different sorts of poisons, yada-yada-yada," Clint stood from his chair. Crum flinched as he watches the man walk around him until he was out of sight. He couldn't move. He could only tremble in place as he listened to the agent talk from right behind him.
"We hunted a lot of rats. Huge problem where we were," Clint continued, "They're smart little pests, most of the time. Set the right bait and they'll fall easily into any trap, especially the slow, fat ones. So I switched to humans, thought maybe they'd be more exciting." He reached over Crum's shoulder and grabbed the knife's handle. His breath hit Crum's ear and he visibly shook, sweat beginning to form in pools on his forehead. "It's a shame some are just as dumb…especially the many fat, slow, rich rats," he leaned in a little closer, "The ones who always think they treat me like the fool."
Crum moved his static gaze to the side; his sweat was now freefalling. He met Clint's black orbs. They were observing every subtle movement. It probably wasn't subtle at all as he could feel body shake and his face turn wet. Who was this man? These agents were supposed to be some complacent assassins right? Too many questions. It was like he had walked right into this man's trap since the beginning.
Clint cracked a large grin and yanked the knife out of the table, "I can't help you, Mr. Crum," he backed off the man.
Crum pulled his arm in. there was a hole in his sleeve now, but luckily no other marks or cuts. "Alright…I guess I can find someone else then," he said, catching his breath. He didn't even realize how long he was holding it in.
There was a moment of silence, then Clint snapped his fingers. An idea came to him and he turned back to Crum with a wide smile, "I know someone who has just what you're looking for."
"That bastard!" Hunter cursed to himself as he entered the dusty warehouse. Why did he agree to this? He should've just told Clint to piss off and handle it himself. Clint sprung this on him on purpose, for sure.
The rough banging against his door broke Hunter of his brief nap.
"Hey, little bird! Come out! I got something for you!"
Clint's obnoxious shouting didn't do him any better. Hunter got off his bed with a growl, rushed to his door, and swung it open. Clint greeted him with a rather fake looking grin.
"What do you want?" Hunter spat at him.
"Don't look so grumpy. We've got a job for you," Clint stood aside. Hunter saw a chubby man standing across from them. The man was eyeing him suspiciously. What now? Clint tugged him out of the doorway with a hand firmly grasping his shoulder. "Mr. Crum here is one of our fine city's trade masters. He has a problem and you're just the man for the job." Hunter shot him a skeptical glare. The man, Crum flicked his gaze between the two.
"This kid?" he looked to Clint in disbelief.
Clint placed his hand atop of Hunter's head, "He's small but he gets the job done. Cleanly and quiet-like too," he boasted like a used-car salesman.
"To do what exactly?" Hunter shoved the older agent away.
"Guarding my warehouse," Crum answered.
Hunter paused, quirking his brow, "That's all?"
"I'm worried about the people snooping around my warehouse. Splitters are getting bolder in this city. A little extra protection couldn't hurt," Crum explained.
"I would've done it, but I told him you're skills are much better for this than mine," Clint said. Hunter shot another glare. Once again, he wasn't taking his job seriously. He was too lazy for even a simple guard mission. Clint looked down at him and shrugged, "But its too much for a kid then we understand."
Hunter growled and turned back to Crum, "I can help you," he nodded and outstretched his hand.
Crum gleamed and shook his hand with vigor, "Excellent! Warehouse number 15. Meet my men there tonight."
Hunter sighed. This was a throwaway mission. Just might as well get it over with. He saw a few Plumber guards waiting for him. They were waving him over.
"You the agent?" One of the Plumbers asked as he trotted over.
"Yeah," Hunter answered, noting their skepticism. Crum must not have mentioned his age. No one ever takes him seriously because of it. He ignored them for a moment as he surveyed the warehouse. Boxes were stacked all around, some reaching nearly to the ceiling. Looters would go after the lone ones scattered around. There weren't many lights and the few ones his saw looked old and dim. The only other source of light would be moonlight coming from the few windows.
"There reports of suspicious people lurking around the area. We only have a few guards to help you," the Plumber informed him.
"Send them home. I won't need any," Hunter stated, still looking around. He saw a catwalk above them, "Is there a way up there?" he asked pointing to the platform.
"Uh yeah…there's a ladder over there," the Plumber answered pointing towards it.
"Great. You can go now," Hunter said, walking away.
"Wait, you expect to watch this place alone!" the Plumber exclaimed.
"It's a waste of energy to march around the building," Hunter rolled his eyes, "If they get inside then I'll take care of it."
"I don't want to be responsible for some kid getting hurt," the Plumber stated.
Hunter narrowed his eyes, "Get in my way and you can be responsible for your boss's stock getting stolen." The Plumber flinched and shot a glare at the young agent. They had a little staring contest, but the Plumber couldn't match Hunter's harsh blue gaze, shifting uncomfortably where he stood.
"Fine…good luck then," the Plumber sharply and trotted away.
Hunter laughed to himself as he watched him leave. "Good," he worked better alone anyway. He ascended the ladder up to the catwalk. The platform was rusty and rickety, but Hunter was able to maintain balance. He got a good view of the warehouse. Below him were some boxes that were completely by themselves and out in the open. Good bait. There is still a bit of time before it got really dark. Hunter sat down and took out his two guns, checking them, making sure he was prepared for the long night.
"Clint got in your head again."
Hunter scowled. Naomi had scolded him again. That's all she ever did.
"And what?! Should I ditch the mission?" Hunter snapped back at his sister. His back was to her as he lay on the bed, wanting to just nap. After Clint and Crum had left, she had barged into his room with her arms crossed and looking disappointed.
"You can't now, but that's not the point," Naomi sighed as she rubbed the bridge of her nose.
Hunter shot up, glaring at her, "How is it always my fault when he's the one who starts the fight?!"
"You feed into it!" she exclaimed, "When are you going to grow up? You're not beating him at anything."
"Hmpf," Hunter scoffed, "I'm staying ahead of him. He's lazy and a bastard, he's always been."
Naomi shook her head, "If you keep acting like that, you'll end up in trouble."
"So I should be like you and give up everything," Hunter hissed and turned back on his side. He didn't need to see her to know it hurt. Her silence was good enough. As he closed his eyes to try and sleep, he heard her leaving with the soft click of the door.
Hunter sighed. Why was Naomi such a pushover? She was good at what she did, but damn was she a pushover. He tilted head back against the railing. He hadn't spoken to her since then. He sighed again. He might have to apologize later.
As he lazily counts the dents and scratches of the ceiling, he lost resisting the urge to yawn. The quiet of the warehouse was mind-numbing. He crossed his arm and shifted against the railing to get comfortable. He looked down below one more time. Nothing. He huffed. This was going to be a long night. He leaned his back again and closed his eyes, might as well catch up on some sleep.
It must've been several hours later when the sound of metal breaking woke him. He cracked open an eye. He had learned to become a light sleeper. His sense had been sharpened over the years to detect the slightest noise. Though this was less than subtle. It sounded like a bunch of idiots were breaking in. They were just lucky Crum's regular security was shit, and Crum should consider himself fortunate he was here. He grabbed his guns and twisted around to hoist himself up on the railing. The lamps must've gone off at some point in the night, he could only see what was illuminated by the faux moonlight. There seemed to be only two and they looked like kids, just as old or possibly younger than him.
Hunter grimaced. Did he really have to shoot a bunch of clueless kids? He struggled with himself as his finger tapped on the trigger guard. He kept observing them. There was one with black hair. He strode with confidence, even in the dark. He just broke into a Plumber warehouse without a once of fear. People like that were either beyond cock and dumb, or not to be trifled with.
It was different for his partner, a kid with stark white hair. He was jittery and surveying every which way of the warehouse. He seemed more cautious in contrast to the other. If the black-haired kid was a leader than this kid would've been a scout by the way he was sniffing around like a bizarre bloodhound. He watched the two open a crate all while playfully joking around. A strange pang struck Hunter's heart. He could figure why though. What was he even doing? The two were heading for another crate. He should be stopping them! They were rummaging through in contents now. God, why was he hesitating?!
He shook his head, took a breath, and aim his gun at them. They acted more dumbass street kids than a couple of Splitters. He was only ordered to guard, not specifically kill. Maybe he could just scare them off. He aimed carefully. The bullet would fly just over their heads and they would flee. He took another breath, steadied himself, and was ready to squeeze the trigger. The white-haired kid then turned and all Hunter saw were two glowing golden eyes.
"The hell?!" He fired, startled, and forgetting where he was aiming. He nearly threw himself over the railing. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw the two jump behind the crate.
"Shit!" He kept his gun aimed towards them. What the hell was that? He had never seen eyes like that. They didn't look human. He saw a slight movement. They were still here. He fired another round and hit the crate. He could see two bodies trying desperately to stay in cover.
Hunter was starting to sweat. Now what? One of them suddenly ran out from cover, the white-haired one. He was moving too fast, leaping along the stacked crates. Hunter couldn't find time to aim, only firing a few wild shots which kept missing the speedy target. The white-haired kid then picked up a crate and hurled it towards him. Hunter dived to the floor just as the crate collided with the catwalk. Wood and the contents flew around him, and the metal broke in half. Hunter hung on by scraping the grated floor.
"He knew where I was?! How?!" he pulled himself up to sturdier ground and started crawling toward the ladder. His heart jolted when he heard someone land behind him and worst of all there was a frightening growl that followed. Hunter whirled around and fired. He didn't know if he hit anything, nor did he care. The last thing he saw were those golden eyes before scrambling to his feet and racing to the ladder. He slid down to the ground floor. His eyes were still trained to the catwalk, looking for…whatever that guy was. Footsteps were coming up behind.
"Damn, the other one!" He turned and fired. He couldn't have missed that time. The black-haired kid was only a few feet from him.
"Damn that still stings, jackass!" the kid shouted at him. Hunter stood in shock. The kid had blocked the bullet with his arm…which was completely coated in rock!
"Is this kid a hybrid?!" Hunter started the realize. He had gone against many types of people, but never against a hybrid. He kept his gun raised at him. the kid wasn't rushing him, but he didn't know how long that would last. There was a thud behind him. He cautiously turned and saw the white-haired kid staring him down. Those golden eyes were striking. Hunter was beginning to remember a rumor that a chimera had escaped some time ago. Could it have been this kid?
He pulled out his second gun and aimed it at the white-haired kid, "Don't move!" he commanded. It seemed to work. The kid stood frozen watching his weapon with hesitant fear. He turned his gaze back to the other one. He seemed less afraid than his partner. He would need to watch him more than the other. this was supposed to be an easy mission and now he was trapped between a hybrid and a chimera.
"Crap!" Hunter thought, "I'm so screwed."
Phew. Another chapter for you guys. Again thank you for the kind words of those who welcomed me back. I know currently, things are very hectic in the world, certainly where I am. But I just hope everyone is staying safe during these very confusing times.
Stay safe, be kind, and also bow down to our new kitten overlord, Ginseng.
Leave a review and I will see you lovelies next time.