Chapter 3: The Monster

Mike felt the sun blaze on his skin. The air was hot and heavy, even though it wasn't even afternoon yet. He was stuffing down his bagel, and rushing to the base. He had woken late, with beer on his breath and alcohol on his mind. He had stumbled out the bed, and seen that his clock showed 10:30 as the time. He dressed quick enough, and found himself eating his breakfast at 11:30. Now, he had finally reached the base, with half of his coffee still remaining. He gulped it down, and his head stung while he swallowed the caffeine, his hangover made much worse. Once he entered the building, he threw the bag which the food had came in into the bin near the receptionist's desk. When he raised his gaze to see the working crowd, his eyes caught Easton's, who smiled seeing Mike's drunkenness, but didn't interact. Mike stumbled to mission briefing, and found Ray and two adolescents already in the room. Ray spoke with authority, "Michael Hunter. We were worried we wouldn't catch even a glimpse of you today. Our worries were misplaced, I suppose."

Mike replied, trying his best to mask the slur in his speech, "Reporting for duty, sir. I put in the wrong digits on mine alarm."

"Yes, and wrongly kept alarms greatly slur your speech, I suppose."

"No sir, It's just, just....."

"Just a bit tipsy, Michael. Any which way, we have better stuff to do than fixate on your blood alcohol levels. I take it you are ready for duty."

"Yes, sir."

"Then these are the field agents you will be working with. Meet, Remi Bale, codenamed Riot, and Andrew Bower, codenamed Xeron. You three can now discuss your mission among each other." Saying so, Ray walked out the door, giving a directionless wave before leaving. Mike turned to his two colleagues, to see their appearances. Riot gave off the vibe of a doped up teenager, with a scrawny figure, and genuine enthusiasm. To contrast that was Xeron, who looked like a man about Mike's age, who was bored out of his mind. There was the faintest of actual expression in the boy's face, and he was hunched upon his phone. After finishing his business, the boy raised his head, and finally noticed who he was with. His eyes made a break for his hairline, if only for a second, before his face reverted to the boredom that seemed his resting face. He did peak, though, "You are Mike 'The Monster' Hunter. Weird to see you in the flesh."

Mike replied with a stupid grin, which seemed to be his own resting face, decorating his face, even though he had never heard himself referred to as 'The Monster'. He had been called many things, and many of those were unsavoury, but he had never been called a monster in a complimentary way. He posed the query to Andrew, "I have never heard that one before. Who told you I am nicknamed 'The Monster'?"

"Oh, I heard from some senior gifted say it."

"Ah," Mike chalked it up to Fuego or one of the others, in beginning this unusual trend. "Well, what is you guys' gifts?"

Remi replied quickly to the question, "I can make any part of my body hard as stone, sir."

"It's Mike, not sir. You can make it 'hard'?"

"I can make my skin impenetrable, and strong enough to break through most about anything."

"I must say, that is similar to my friend's, Frank."

"Yes, sir, I know. Everyone knows how Snipe was made impenetrable."

Mike almost pointed out Remi's use of 'sir' again, but instead looked to Andrew. Xeron had turned back to his cursed phone, but looked up when he peeked at Mike staring at him. He opened his mouth, confused, "What happened?"

Mike posed his question again, "Your gift. What is it?"

"Oh," Andrew took a pause, "I have good reflexes."

"That's all?"

"Yeah. Isn't that your power, too?"

"Yes, but I thought you young'uns would have interesting powers."

"Not gonna lie, kind of a prick thing to say, 'sir'."

"Sorry, sorry." Mike tried to defuse the situation, but also noticed that Remi didn't seem to care, at least not as mush as Andrew was pricked by it. "Well, let's speak of our mission. Do we know where the men are meeting?"

Remi replied to this question with enthusiasm to his work which Mike had never seen before, "Oh, we have, sir. Did your file not include that information? Mine did. I could get it for you, sir."

"I don't need it, Remi. And again, it's Mike, not sir. Could you remember that, please."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, Mike."

"Good. Now, when is the actual mission?"

"In the late afternoon, around five. The info is, that after the meeting, the members of Falco's posse will be going to a bar. We have to follow them from the start of the meeting, till the bar, and then arrest them. We will be leaving at four, and set up the cameras and mics. Easton Fowler, Echo will be supervising the technical side of things."

"Why isn't he here, then?"

"Raymond sir said that he is preparing the technical aid. The stick mics, cameras and the van."

"Very well. What are you guys contributing?"

Remi replied quick, "I will be helping in any actual fighting," while Easton stayed unknowing of his surroundings. Mike waved his hand in front of Andrew, whose neck was bent to look straight into his phone.

The man finally noticed, "What's your problem, man?"

Mike replied, hiding his frustration with his idiot subordinate, "I want to know what you are doing on the mission?"

Andrew shook out his earphones from his ears, and then stared for a second at Mike. After an awkward second, he finally replied, "I will be handling tech, on field, sir." Mike nodded, and then walked to the table in the middle of their room. On top of the metal table, was a paper file, with all the mission details Mike had been too bored to check out. He picked it up, and skimmed through the pages. The information had come from an unknown source, but some agent had confirmed it. The more he read, the more Mike was sure that it would be a cakewalk. He turned back, to look at the two agents from the corner of his eye.

He spoke, "Well, I am gonna go to have some lunch. I will come back at around three. You guys wanna join?" Mike didn't really want his two colleagues joining, but he said in the sake of courtesy. It was obvious what the two kids' answers would be. Remi was almost giddy with excitement, to eat with his senior, even though Michael was only twenty-six years of age. Andrew acted indifferent with the offer, like it seemed he always did.

Yet it was Andrew who spoke first, "Mike, I find it kind of stupid, to have a luncheon right before our mission. We might have to leave at any time. Need to be ready."

Mike stared for a second, but spoke quick enough, "It will be a quick thing, Andrew. We will go out, grab a bite, and come right back."

Remi nodded, but then considered it for a second, "I don't think I will come, sir. Andrew is right."

Mike just shrugged his shoulder, and walked out, not offering the agents one more word. He was almost happy with how the situation worked out. He never even understood the attention he got, let alone like it. Remi seemed like a good guy. But good guys are boring as hell. The other one, Andrew, was more interesting, not in the least due to the fact he had called Mike 'the Monster'. It brought out some curiosity from Mike, as he had never even heard anything like that being used to refer to him. He didn't doubt that something like that was said behind his back, but he didn't expect from his own subordinates. He was sure men called him many names. When people saw a dashing young man as the second last image on their retinas, before the image of the barrel of a gun, people were sure to call Mike many unsavoury names. He remembered the first bully he had ever faced. A dumbass, Fuego had been, but Mike had not seen Diego for years. Maybe he had turned a new leaf, though it was bloody unlikely. Fuego had been an arsehole as a kid, insufferable and rude as a sailor. Mike remembered a certain memory, when Diego had pierced Mike with a fiery needle. It had burned as all hell, but curiously enough, Mike could never remember what happened after. The story had been that Frank had seen Diego doing it, and had intervened, using a different needle. Four scratches, Diego had suffered, and he didn't show his face at training for days. Diego had never troubled Mike again, and Mike had continuously thanked Frank after. Mike wondered, not for the first time, where Diego was.

Mike reached the deli almost completely sober. The slur had gone out of his voice, though his gait was still a little off. He bought a chicken sandwich, and sat next to a table. Once he was done, he deliberated calling Frank, but decided to not do so, thinking that Frank might be busy. Mike instead sent a message, asking Frank what he would be doing tomorrow. He didn't expect a reply till tomorrow, so maybe the message was pointless. Frank was always busy, doing one thing or the other. He stood up from his seat, paid the bill for the meal, and left to got for his mission.