on this forum?”
Kevin shuffles his feet on the carpet. He kicks an energy drink can. The can falls over and a little splash of caffeine spills onto the floor. “I don’t know. A lot, I guess. I only talked to two guys, really.”
“What were their names?” Ann’s voice has an edge, reminding me of the badass she claimed to be on the plane. SHI training standards are insane, even regular Joes that work desk jobs are required to run a sub-seven minute mile and bench press their own body weight. Or so the rumors go.
“I don’t know their real names. One goes by LDeL…”
Leroy DeLaCruz.
“…and the other goes by ‘CapeH8er69’.” Kevin cringes as he says the name.
“Cape Hater Sixty-Nine?” There is no way this bunch of half-asses infiltrated SHI, avoided super-national security, and blew up the Engine.
“Yeah, but ‘Hater’ is with the number eight. You know, like ‘H-eight-er.’” Kevin draws the number eight in the air with his finger. I briefly debate breaking the finger solely to justify this monumental fucking waste of time.
“I think we’re done here.”
Ann scans the apartment one last time. Her upper lip curls, indicating soon isn’t soon enough.
As I step across the threshold I say, “Oh yeah, Kevin…”
Kevin sits in his computer chair. He leans back, puts his hands behind his head, and watches with a half-smile, cocky now that he thinks he’s getting off.
“I’m going to have SHI monitor your computer. If you post one more inflammatory comment towards superheroes, you are going to find yourself in court for that rather large media collection you seem to have acquired. Understand?”
The attitude fades as quickly as the color in his face.
“Have a nice day.” I wink and slam the door behind me.
Chapter 10
ANN SLAMS HER DOOR with a fury that Hell couldn’t come within light years of. Her face is still flushed with rage and a strand of hair has come loose from her military-spec bun. It dangles in front of one of her hazel eyes. She clearly thinks Kevin should be punched in the face. I can’t fault her for that.
Our driver turns to face us. He takes one glance at Ann’s bottled-up anger before asking me if we are headed back to the airport.
“Actually, you know of any good restaurants?” I’m starving and Ann can’t be far behind.
“Define good,” the driver says, eyeing my suit.
“Burger or pizza good.”
The driver smiles. “Yeah, I know a great spot for a pie. It’s even on the way.”
“Let’s go there.”
The engine roars to life.
“Do you really think now is the best time to be going for some nosh?” Ann’s question comes through gritted teeth. The lack of ‘h’s in her English vocabulary become even more pronounced. Fair enough, I tend to sound much redneckier when I’m pissed.
The driver turns the radio up and beats away a bass line on the steering wheel as he drives. A city brighter than Atlanta lights the night sky.
“What else should we be doing?”
“We should brief Vince on the interrogation.”
“That wasn’t an interrogation. That was a circus. The little shit doesn’t know anything about a terrorist plot, and I’ll be highly surprised if the ‘Dipshit8er’ lead gets us anywhere.”
“In that case, we need to be moving forward to Vegas so we can question River about Tess.”
“You’re right, but I need to eat. That tiny sandwich on the plane isn’t enough to keep my ass going for a sixteen-plus hour day. Especially with no end in sight.”
Ann’s shoulders slump. She probably knows I’m right. The bad posture doesn’t suit her at all.
“You do like pizza, right?”
“Everyone likes pizza. Especially the kind with spinach.”
“Ack,” I say, “spinach on a pizza? Gross. Pepperoni and jalapeño is the only way.”
“We’re here.” The driver comes to a stop outside a small pizzeria.
“Thanks. We’ll be out in thirty.”
I step out of the car and into the street. This city has a kind of
Kevin shuffles his feet on the carpet. He kicks an energy drink can. The can falls over and a little splash of caffeine spills onto the floor. “I don’t know. A lot, I guess. I only talked to two guys, really.”
“What were their names?” Ann’s voice has an edge, reminding me of the badass she claimed to be on the plane. SHI training standards are insane, even regular Joes that work desk jobs are required to run a sub-seven minute mile and bench press their own body weight. Or so the rumors go.
“I don’t know their real names. One goes by LDeL…”
Leroy DeLaCruz.
“…and the other goes by ‘CapeH8er69’.” Kevin cringes as he says the name.
“Cape Hater Sixty-Nine?” There is no way this bunch of half-asses infiltrated SHI, avoided super-national security, and blew up the Engine.
“Yeah, but ‘Hater’ is with the number eight. You know, like ‘H-eight-er.’” Kevin draws the number eight in the air with his finger. I briefly debate breaking the finger solely to justify this monumental fucking waste of time.
“I think we’re done here.”
Ann scans the apartment one last time. Her upper lip curls, indicating soon isn’t soon enough.
As I step across the threshold I say, “Oh yeah, Kevin…”
Kevin sits in his computer chair. He leans back, puts his hands behind his head, and watches with a half-smile, cocky now that he thinks he’s getting off.
“I’m going to have SHI monitor your computer. If you post one more inflammatory comment towards superheroes, you are going to find yourself in court for that rather large media collection you seem to have acquired. Understand?”
The attitude fades as quickly as the color in his face.
“Have a nice day.” I wink and slam the door behind me.
Chapter 10
ANN SLAMS HER DOOR with a fury that Hell couldn’t come within light years of. Her face is still flushed with rage and a strand of hair has come loose from her military-spec bun. It dangles in front of one of her hazel eyes. She clearly thinks Kevin should be punched in the face. I can’t fault her for that.
Our driver turns to face us. He takes one glance at Ann’s bottled-up anger before asking me if we are headed back to the airport.
“Actually, you know of any good restaurants?” I’m starving and Ann can’t be far behind.
“Define good,” the driver says, eyeing my suit.
“Burger or pizza good.”
The driver smiles. “Yeah, I know a great spot for a pie. It’s even on the way.”
“Let’s go there.”
The engine roars to life.
“Do you really think now is the best time to be going for some nosh?” Ann’s question comes through gritted teeth. The lack of ‘h’s in her English vocabulary become even more pronounced. Fair enough, I tend to sound much redneckier when I’m pissed.
The driver turns the radio up and beats away a bass line on the steering wheel as he drives. A city brighter than Atlanta lights the night sky.
“What else should we be doing?”
“We should brief Vince on the interrogation.”
“That wasn’t an interrogation. That was a circus. The little shit doesn’t know anything about a terrorist plot, and I’ll be highly surprised if the ‘Dipshit8er’ lead gets us anywhere.”
“In that case, we need to be moving forward to Vegas so we can question River about Tess.”
“You’re right, but I need to eat. That tiny sandwich on the plane isn’t enough to keep my ass going for a sixteen-plus hour day. Especially with no end in sight.”
Ann’s shoulders slump. She probably knows I’m right. The bad posture doesn’t suit her at all.
“You do like pizza, right?”
“Everyone likes pizza. Especially the kind with spinach.”
“Ack,” I say, “spinach on a pizza? Gross. Pepperoni and jalapeño is the only way.”
“We’re here.” The driver comes to a stop outside a small pizzeria.
“Thanks. We’ll be out in thirty.”
I step out of the car and into the street. This city has a kind of
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