Besides, this store doesn't carry much cash. Neither do I. The pay is nothing. So move along and you'll keep your teeth."
There was a moment of silence. Whisky assumed the men were thinking the matter over. In his experience, standing up to bullies on the streets was always the best option. Nine times out of ten they moved along to pick on someone else.
But this time, the larger of the two men began to move forward. Slowly, he took a step, then another, coming out of the shadows and nearing Whisky.
Whisky widened his stance. He tightened his fists, ready to fight.
Then, the approaching man said, "Gonna hit an old friend?" The man then came from the shadows, revealing himself.
"LT?" Whisky said, his mouth forming a smile.
He couldn't help it. "That really you?"
"It is, brother. Been what, two years? I heard you quit the Navy. Didn't believe it, though. Figured you'd be teaching Seals, not quitting them."
"LT, I had enough. That chapter of my life is over."
"I see," LT said, nodding and looking at the trash bags on the dirty ground beside the man's feet. "So you've . . . you're doing dishes now, or what?" He wasn't attempting insult, merely baffled seeing his old friend there.
"Nah man, the trash is just part of my job description. I cook here."
"I see," LT said, nodding.
"You don't approve, do you?" Whisky asked, grinning.
"N ot my business, bro. Whatever makes you happy."
Whisky nodded at this. Then, he pointed to the man behind LT, asking, "Who's that? A friend?"
"Not necessarily."
"Who then?"
"My boss."
"Boss ? You never came across as the sort who'd have a boss. Heard you've been out too. What's your line of work?"
"Just recently got this gig. It's similar to what I've done in the past."
"Ah, I see. Private Contractor. I couldn't do it, man. Seems too much like paid mercenaries to me."
"No, that's not it. I still work for the government. The military, too. Just a different department. This here is Commander Jacobs. He heads the department. Have a few operators on board, but mostly it's computer junkies and book nerds," LT explained, laughing. He beckoned behind him, urging the shorter man to come forward.
LT made introductions. Commander Jacobs was stout and tough, a man of great pride and vision. Whisky could read him instantly. He'd been around legends such as Jacobs his entire career with the Seals.
"Nice to meet ya," Whisky said, then looked back to LT. "So what brings you here? Doubt you were lost in an alley. And doubt you're hungry enough to come seek out this place. Our food is good, but not that good."
"Ha! You've always see through my acts," LT joked. "Came to see you, actually."
"I see. What for?" Whisky asked.
"To offer you a job."
"I already have a job," Whisky said.
Before LT could speak, Whisky's boss flung the back door open. He looked at Whisky, then the two men, and began yelling.
"You doing some kind of drug deal?"
"I'll call the cops."
"Toilet stopped up again. You, black man, you go fix it."
Then, his boss slammed the door, leaving the three men in silence in some dark alley.
"Ouch," LT said. "D idn't mean to get you in trouble with your boss, bro."
"It's not your fault. He's just like that."
"Always?"
"Every single day," Whisky admitted, hanging his head low.
"Why don't you beat him up? Kick his ass a bit. Bet he'd stop," LT suggested.
"I need the job, bro," Whisky remarked.
"Well, I'd like to offer you one," LT said. "It can wait, though. If you need to go back in, that's cool."
"Nah man, I'm all ears. Not necessarily interested, but I'll hear ya out."
"What about your boss?"
"Like I said, he always does that. Now, what's this job?" Whisky asked.
Fifteen minutes later, LT had explained everything. The Mission, the fact that they were after demons, everything. As he told Whisky, he could hardly believe his own words. This supernatural craze just wasn't his thing.
The entire time, Commander Jacobs said nothing. He remained silent, allowing LT to convince the
There was a moment of silence. Whisky assumed the men were thinking the matter over. In his experience, standing up to bullies on the streets was always the best option. Nine times out of ten they moved along to pick on someone else.
But this time, the larger of the two men began to move forward. Slowly, he took a step, then another, coming out of the shadows and nearing Whisky.
Whisky widened his stance. He tightened his fists, ready to fight.
Then, the approaching man said, "Gonna hit an old friend?" The man then came from the shadows, revealing himself.
"LT?" Whisky said, his mouth forming a smile.
He couldn't help it. "That really you?"
"It is, brother. Been what, two years? I heard you quit the Navy. Didn't believe it, though. Figured you'd be teaching Seals, not quitting them."
"LT, I had enough. That chapter of my life is over."
"I see," LT said, nodding and looking at the trash bags on the dirty ground beside the man's feet. "So you've . . . you're doing dishes now, or what?" He wasn't attempting insult, merely baffled seeing his old friend there.
"Nah man, the trash is just part of my job description. I cook here."
"I see," LT said, nodding.
"You don't approve, do you?" Whisky asked, grinning.
"N ot my business, bro. Whatever makes you happy."
Whisky nodded at this. Then, he pointed to the man behind LT, asking, "Who's that? A friend?"
"Not necessarily."
"Who then?"
"My boss."
"Boss ? You never came across as the sort who'd have a boss. Heard you've been out too. What's your line of work?"
"Just recently got this gig. It's similar to what I've done in the past."
"Ah, I see. Private Contractor. I couldn't do it, man. Seems too much like paid mercenaries to me."
"No, that's not it. I still work for the government. The military, too. Just a different department. This here is Commander Jacobs. He heads the department. Have a few operators on board, but mostly it's computer junkies and book nerds," LT explained, laughing. He beckoned behind him, urging the shorter man to come forward.
LT made introductions. Commander Jacobs was stout and tough, a man of great pride and vision. Whisky could read him instantly. He'd been around legends such as Jacobs his entire career with the Seals.
"Nice to meet ya," Whisky said, then looked back to LT. "So what brings you here? Doubt you were lost in an alley. And doubt you're hungry enough to come seek out this place. Our food is good, but not that good."
"Ha! You've always see through my acts," LT joked. "Came to see you, actually."
"I see. What for?" Whisky asked.
"To offer you a job."
"I already have a job," Whisky said.
Before LT could speak, Whisky's boss flung the back door open. He looked at Whisky, then the two men, and began yelling.
"You doing some kind of drug deal?"
"I'll call the cops."
"Toilet stopped up again. You, black man, you go fix it."
Then, his boss slammed the door, leaving the three men in silence in some dark alley.
"Ouch," LT said. "D idn't mean to get you in trouble with your boss, bro."
"It's not your fault. He's just like that."
"Always?"
"Every single day," Whisky admitted, hanging his head low.
"Why don't you beat him up? Kick his ass a bit. Bet he'd stop," LT suggested.
"I need the job, bro," Whisky remarked.
"Well, I'd like to offer you one," LT said. "It can wait, though. If you need to go back in, that's cool."
"Nah man, I'm all ears. Not necessarily interested, but I'll hear ya out."
"What about your boss?"
"Like I said, he always does that. Now, what's this job?" Whisky asked.
Fifteen minutes later, LT had explained everything. The Mission, the fact that they were after demons, everything. As he told Whisky, he could hardly believe his own words. This supernatural craze just wasn't his thing.
The entire time, Commander Jacobs said nothing. He remained silent, allowing LT to convince the
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