Poltergeist Who Loves Oreos
The wind howled through the gutted skyscrapers, causing them to shift and creak ominously as the sun began to set. Dark clouds heralding an approaching storm loomed menacingly in the sky, lightning occasionally flashing through them in brilliant whites and blues. The small bar sat nestled in a subway station between two skyscrapers, the worn and crooked sign on the entrance proclaiming "El Paso shelter, food and drink, no fighting!" In the tunnels below, a subway stop had been converted into a barely habitable bar. The few actual electric lights hung over the bar on thick cables, powered by solar panels above ground. The rest of the bar was light by a variety of torches, candles, and lanterns. A smokey haze floated overhead and wafted up and out through the stairwell entrance. Of course that meant anyone entering the bar from the stairs got an eyeful of dirty smoke, but nobody really complained. When the lone shelter was one of the last few safe havens near the mexico border you were not picky about the small details. The stairwell was watched by a burly man in grimy fatigues, a large tribal tattoo adorning his face. Like most shelters, the owner had procured the services of a bouncer for some semblance of security. The frail bartender was not as strong as he used to be, years of toiling in dusty and polluted air taking its toll on him. Coughing wetly, the bartender straightened his clip-on bowtie and looked around the room. Lately there had not been as much traffic coming through El Paso, the midsummer heat and pollution filled dust storms keeping most sensible traders indoors. There were a few travelers that had mostly stumbled upon the shelter by accident, but only two had decided to barter with the old man for a small room and bed. A weather beaten older woman slumped down in her chair near the middle of the room, a plate full of shot glasses clearly describing the reason as to why she was passed out sitting upright. Near the bouncer sat a grimy and bespectacled man reading a thick book by candlelight.
Dusting off his jeans and stained white shirt, the bartender cautiously glanced at the two men sitting at a table in the back. The two men looked like polar opposites but had arrived together much to the curiosity of the shelter owner. The first man looked like the sort who could snap a man's neck without a second thought. His head was covered in many deep scars with only a few patches of black hair growing between them, his eyes constantly moving around warily. The second man looked like he had no business being in the grimy old subway shelter. Dressed in a clean black suit with a gray overcoat, the well groomed individual looked like he belonged on a billboard advertisement. But unbeknownst to the shelter owner, the two men were in his abode for a very specific reason.
Javion sighed in irritation as he looked at his digital wristwatch. "You would think people of their caliber would be on time. I will need a long hot shower after sitting in this dump all day." Pulling out an electronic tablet, Javion flicked through the files displayed before him. The first was a somewhat blurry photo of a stern looking Caucasian man wearing a white stetson hat surrounded by a crowd of cheering African bandits. "Zion bill huh? Sounds like a character from a novel. Hopefully he lives up to his reputation." The next file contained a picture taken from security camera footage. The focus of the footage was a large and hairy man in the process of arming some kind of explosive device. "The brute looks like he could give even you a challenge Syd, thoughts?" Looking over at his bodyguard, Javion's question was met with a single non-commital grunt. "Oh you are no fun, you should brush up on some literature. Give me someone else to talk to instead of miss bleeding heart." The third file contained a photo taken from some sort of police database. An irritated looking woman with white hair and a large facial scar holding an identification placard was followed by a list of various petty crimes. "This one is bound to be interesting, people will do just about anything to protect the ones they love. Isn't that right Reina?" An irritated sigh emanated from the earpiece communicator lodged in Javion's ear. "If you spent more time following protocol instead of being a smart-ass glory hound we wouldn't need to be hiring these people in the first place." Javion's features twisted into an ugly expression of annoyance before smoothing out into a neutral smile. "Oh is someone getting fussy already? A little fresh air will do you some good."
High above the ground, a lithe woman in a camouflage cloak leaned back in her climbing harness. Dangling from one of the top floors of a nearby skyscraper, the woman adjusted her grip on her high-powered sniper rifle as she viewed the surrounding landscape. "Oh i am just fine up here away from the possible psychopaths you are going to be in a confined space with. Remember that if you need backup it will take me at least five minutes to get down from here." Deciding to ignore the sniper's jib, Javion sighed again as he brushed dust off of his shoulder. "Well these psychopaths are going to be your new colleagues. So no killing them, at least not before i say so. It cost quite a bit to arrange for them all to get to the coast, and i want to see how well they fare d getting here."
Dakota K5 Amaranthine Jack Robinson