"Everyone in position?" Armand's voice carried through the comms, gruff and expectant.
He was feeling unwell.
Not physically, rather, emotionally.
The fact that he has to coordinate with his new subordinates was no different from a heartbreak to him. He felt like he was being forced to act like he was on good terms with his ex.
"In position!" Sera chimed in, her tone was almost too eager. Her voice was as bright as her grin while she smoothed her blue dress and blonde hair in a reflective window. Disguised as a waitress for the VIPs on the fourth floor, she winked at her own reflection, utterly pleased with herself.
That was when another voice came through the comms.
"Yes," Nyla answered flatly. Unlike Sera, she wasn't pleased with the role she had been given. Stuffed into a brown maintenance uniform with her chestnut hair packed underneath a cap, she looked more like a janitor than an operative. She was buried in the basement amidst broken machinery, and her tone made it clear she hated every second of it.
A low, wordless hum came from Agnar.
"Firm as a rock, Captain," Tomas said. The smirk in his voice was obvious. He was stationed at the edge of a huge platform, standing amongst the many guards there in a black suit and red tie. He ran his hands through his fiery red hair as his eyes followed a fine lady who walked past him.
Then silence followed.
"Viper?" Armand called out, but received no response. "Viper!?" He managed through gritted teeth.
Static noise graced his ears first then—Narvel's reply. "You can see me on the surveillance feed. Why waste your breath asking if I'm in position?"
Narvel's cover was quite inconspicuous. A black cap, a white T-shirt, and flowery blue trousers. He came in as one of the lucky few who managed to purchase the extremely expensive ticket for the convention. He was on the ground floor, not so far away from where Tomas was.
Armand grounded his teeth. "This fucking brat. This is why I hate working with rookies."
"The feeling is mutual, Captain." Tomas drawled. "Funny though, hate's the only thing we've agreed on so far. Our team bonding is off the charts."
A few days ago, Armand had tried—against his better judgment—to play nice. He called them together, hoping to put faces to names and ease the friction. If bounty hunting was now his life, he at least wanted to do it with some level of competence.
Just until he has gathered enough merit points to request a transfer.
However, everything didn't go as planned.
Armand had chosen a café that he loved to visit. The same one he had been going to since he joined the Police Force.
Café Drums. Amongst the metals and technology within the city, this café was one of the few with the theme '21st Century' one of the many reasons Armand liked the place.
He made sure to be the first to arrive, just so he could leave a good impression on his subordinate, however, they soon made him regret that decision.
Looking down at the watch on his hand, Armand saw that he had been seated for over 30 minutes and none of his supposed subordinates had arrived.
"Did these damn kids collectively decide to ignore my summons outright?" He wondered. No, a few of them might know themselves from the Academy, however, that normie wouldn't be someone that they're familiar with.
Just as he was thinking about this, out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a young man peeping through the door. He was dressed in a thick black hoodie, wearing shades over his eyes that were just as dark as his clothes.
He seemed to be whispering something to himself.
That should be Agnar, right? Armand waved his hand, calling him over.
Agnar stared for several long and uncomfortable seconds before finally moving, dragging himself across the floor as though every step cost him dearly. When he got to the table, he sat without a word, without introducing himself.
Great! What an unforgettable first impression.
Minutes later, the bell chimed again. This time a woman swept in like a storm. Sera? Armand quickly recognized her from the file. She was anything but professional at the moment. Instead, she was dressed far too casually, humming as if she were headed for a date, not a meeting.
Sera plopped into a chair with a smile so wide it looked rehearsed.
"Looks like I made it in time," She teased.
Armand's brows twitched.
Not long after, Nyla arrived. She strode briskly into the café. She paused to give a second look at the interior and theme of the place. In her hands were a few folders.
Then her eyes fell on the table where Armand and the rest were. She gave all of them a glance before heading for a seat close to the table. It was as though she was indifferent to all of them. Almost disdainful of them.
Nyla threw the folders with her to the table.
"Not so nice, are you?" Sera chuckled as she reached out for one of the files, curious to see what was within. "So you researched us?"
Armand expected this much from Nyla.
However, he didn't expect that she would behave this way. The personality she showed in the interview with Peru was completely different.
Then came Tomas.
His file painted him as reliable, and unflinching. As for what he could be relied on for, it didn't really specify. What walked in, however, was a man with a cocky grin and a swagger that belonged in a bar. He greeted the waitress with a wink before even acknowledging the table. Then he dropped into a chair, leaning back dangerously far as if daring the wood to snap.
And then finally, the last one arrived. A tall figure in simple clothing. A plain black shirt and a black jacket over it, then blue trousers. He strolled in with his hands in his pockets and a face devoid of emotion.
Narvel Anderson.
"Sorry I'm late," He said with a dry tone.
Something about the way he said it made Armand recall the conversation the young man had with Peru. He had apologized then too, but it also sounded as though he didn't mean it. As if he was only doing it because it was the generally correct thing to do when one was late.
He sees us the same way he saw Miss Peru. This child… his arrogance needs to be brought down a notch. Armand reasoned.
"If you don't want to be a part of the team all you have to do is say so," Armand commented.
"I didn't realize we were playing house," Narvel replied in the same tone.
"For a junior, you have quite the tongue speaking to a senior the way you are."
"For a senior, you lack the restraint and self-control of one, former detective Armand."
Armand's jaw locked so tight it hurt. Narvel had hit the spot that hurt the most. Whatever slim hope he'd had for unity was crushed by that statement.
"Whoa! Is that a Velocitronic pistol?" Tomas reached out to Narvel's jacket, wanting to pull his gun out, however, his hand was slapped away by the carrier.
"Bring your filthy hands near me again and I'll make sure it returns with a few holes."
Tomas's intrigue with the weapon quickly washed away.
"For a normie, you talk with big balls between your legs. Dial your asshole down a notch before I stick a fist through it for you."
"Be my guest, I haven't dragged a body to the morgue in this city before so I wouldn't mind doing that today." Narvel threatened back.
"You know, a velocitronic firearm might pose a lot of threat to me, but that's only if it hits. You haven't gotten any bionic implants, it's a walk in the park to tear your limbs off before you get the chance to pull the weapon out."
"Then do it," Unknown to Tomas, Narvel had already pulled out a normal pistol under the table and pointed it at him.
The atmosphere became tense.
To the point where the others at the table were secretly on their toes. Ready to dodge or pounce on anyone if needed.
"Enough, the two of you." Armand interrupted. Why are they at each other's throats already? What the hell are they teaching people in the Academies these days? Dammit!
"If anyone makes a move, I'll neutralize you myself. Four of you here are still in the Seeding Stage. I'm well into the Eminence stage, it'll be very easy to break any of you with a move." Armand threatened before turning to Narvel. "And you. You might be wearing an Exoshell underneath your clothes, but that won't be enough to match me."
The table turned silent as everyone weighed their options.
Soon, all of them calmed.
And that was how they met.
Back to the present.