Keep Your Enemies Closer…
South of Watts, there operated an arms-dealing program composed of different gang members from small-time groups. At first, it seemed like a pretty good idea; business was blooming and every kid above fourteen was in possession of a weapon. Walking with a gun around the block was trendy for a while, but it was also a big mistake. The FBI soon got wind of it and, without hesitation, raided the hood. Those who decided to resist the assault were dead within seconds, while the majority got incarcerated. Jamal Gibson, also known by his edgy street name Lil’ Dark, was the only remnant of the program. He built an underground storage under an abandoned house and managed to slip past the law enforcers. It’s hard to believe a thick-headed bastard of African-American descent like Jamal got all resourceful out of the sudden and succeeded into avoiding custody, but he did. Rumors are he now works as an independent gun runner.
Alec, during his neurotic phase as a gun for hire, had worked once for Lil’ Dark. His then-15 year old daughter was raped by a meta, and a grief-stricken Jamal wanted him dead. For a pathetic fee of two hundred dollars, Alec tracked and subdued the rapist, only to discover that he was tricked; the rapist wasn’t a meta. Though a psychopathic killer, Alec did understand his pain, having lost his fiancée, so he simply carried his mission and parted ways peacefully with the self-proclaimed OG (original gangster). Never would he have thought that their paths would cross again.
Alec had boarded his armored vehicle and was heading towards the neighborhood, as the different thoughts and scenarios were slightly troubling him. Turning the radio on revealed another explosion on the FBI Headquarters and the Mayor’s kidnapping. “This seals the deal!”, was Alec’s first thought. In both, his career as a SEAL operative and his brief run as Metakiller, he was under the mercy of politicians. He knew how they worked, and if his assumptions were right, L.A would be in a total lockdown by tomorrow. Whether that was a good or a bad thing depended on the location of Alec’s target. If Nightingale departed from L.A already, tracking her will be twice as difficult once the lockdown’s set. If she hasn’t, then she’s not going anywhere anytime soon.
After a couple of turns and stops, Miller arrived at the spot. The building was near-collapse. What was left of the windows were obstructed by iron bars. It was not difficult to deduce that whoever lived here before was a paranoid fella. If Alec’s predictions were right, Jamal would be a couple of inches below him. He didn’t know the exact location of his underground lair, but he could recall getting his pay at this house. So yeah, it was safe to say that intuition was what brought Alec, a calculative man, at this location. He swept the dust off the floor with his feet to reveal a trap door.
“Jackpot!”, he uttered to himself as a half-smile managed to crawl to his cheekbones. That was the best enthusiastic face Alec ever made.
He grabbed the door’s handle and pulled it up, finally opening it after a brief struggle. He descended down through a ladder only to find his presence acknowledged by a group of armed gangsters, Jamal’s associates presumably. What he had gotten himself into was a dark room, furnished with two chairs, four seats, a table and a couple of crates laying at the corner. There was little light being emitted by a small lamp in the table and what seemed to be a flashlight app from an iPhone. There were cards and poker chips placed on the table, which suggested Alec had just disturbed a game of cards. It took quite some time for him to identify which one of the six was Jamal, due to him failing to remove his shades as he descended down the pit and due to Jamal’s noticeable weight gain. Once he removed his sunglasses, it was Jamal who recognized him
“Jesus motherfuckin’ Christ! HAWK!”, Jamal shouted, a veil of fear covering his face. Alec’s penetrative vision couldn’t see thoughts, but he read what Jamal was thinking at that moment. He was afraid that Alec was there to punish him because of their little escapade a few months ago. Hawk was the nickname he’d given to him, another reference to his radiant eyes.
“Hello, Jamal.”, Alec saluted in the dullest manner ever. Although not classified as a superpower, Alec’s voice did affect the people he conversed with. It was not the deepest, manliest voice ever, but it was rigid. That, coupled with his natural gift of remaining unfazed in spite of the situation, is what makes him menacing and hard to read.
Jamal’s friends had already holstered their guns by now.
“H-How you doin’, man?”, the OG stuttered.
“Good. I’ve been trying to pay you a visit, but you moved places and you didn’t leave an address. I love what you’ve done to your crib, by the way”, Alec made up a response.
“How did you find out ‘bout this place, man? You here to cap me? That’s what’chu here fo’?”, Jamal’s tone got more intense as he segued between three questions at once. His associates were prepared for the worst.
“No. I’m here as a client. Heard you got your hands on some CIA merchandise, so I thought to come by and look.”, the meta responded yet again.
A relieved Jamal ordered his men to find a spot at the corner.
“Man, why didn’t you tell me you were here for the bugs, man? You scared me shitless.”, Jamal enthusiastically pronounced the words in his slightly annoying hood accent.
He moved to the crates at the corner and pulled a silver cigar box. Inside it, there were three tracking devices the size of a sand grain, being held in separate glass containers.
“This sum hi-tech stuff, man. They cost me the amount of three AK-47 crates.”
“How much do you want for it?”, Miller immediately skipped to the business part.
“For you? 200 dollas’! It’s about time I paid you properly for what you’ve done, man. I’ll be forever grateful! Sasha finally got herself togetha’. She going to a nice school and she got new friends”, Jamal’s ramblings were eating Alec inside. He just wanted to get it over with.
He slipped the cigar box in his jacket’s pocket before pulling two 100 dollar bills and extending his hand to Lil’ Dark. The moment he tried to grab the cash, Alec grasped his hand before pulling him towards and moving a knife to the shocked man’s throat.
“Remember when I said I’m not here to kill you? I lied. I’m working for the government now, Jamal. I can’t let scum like you walk the streets of this neighborhood anymore.”, that was all Alec could muster, before pushing the body down. Jamal’s men were already alerted by now, so the best course of action was using Cerebro; experimental mode to dispatch them one by one with his FN Five-Seven, which is what he did. One, two, three, four, five, went down, all headshots. Experimental mode enabled Alec to react faster while he percepts his surroundings as slowed down. His FN Five-Seven had a capacity of twenty rounds, so counting his little shenanigans at the TV station, he had thirteen rounds left. The roughened meta kneeled down to grab the 200 dollars off Jamal’s cold hand before climbing back to the surface.
Immediately after he entered his car, a stream of blood burst out of Alec’s ears. He hadn’t used Cerebro; experimental since a long time. It took him a while to get used to it. He cleaned the blood of his ears using his jacket before starting the engine, a light feeling of guilt bothering his already troubled mind. He didn’t have sympathy for any criminal, but killing him like that, throwing all his hospitality out of the window – was too much.
What was left now was a lead. Alec was desperate to find out about Nightingale’s whereabouts, so he decided to try his luck with his MHRC contact. He went through all the security checks and the number of beeps before finally getting to hear a familiar voice.
“I knew you’d call”, the man on the other end of the line said. “I got some news for you. Tell me which one is of help. So, we have the female metahuman who attacked the FBI headquarters, we have the male metahuman who has kidnapped the mayor and we finally have a name on this fire fugitive that was responsible for setting Caro on fire; Elijah. The FBI traced his call.”, the man babbled.
The last piece of flash news piqued the interested of an exhausted Alec.
“Say that again? You got the fire meta’s address? Give it to me.”
Alec’s Sand Cat took a U-turn. His day had finally come.