Chapter 7
Light from the morning sun began to shimmer through the blinds of Sam’s bedroom. Because of what had transpired the night before, Sam was in a deep sleep, curled up underneath her sheets and lightly snoring. She could feel a small rumbling coming from the underside of her pillow accompanied by a ringing noise. She rubbed her eyes, opening them ever so slightly, and curled up tighter in her bed. Still laying sideways and clinging to the warmth of her blankets, she reached under her pillow with a free hand and grabbed her vibrating phone. As she flipped it open, she saw an incoming call from a familiar number that made her want to melt into her mattress out of sight.
“Well, shit,” Sam muttered as she steadily moved her sore legs out from under her bedsheets, sitting up on the edge of her bed, still clinging to the faintest bit of warmth from the sheets draped over her. Clearing her throat, she opened her phone only to be interrupted by a voice cutting through.
“S-31? Do you copy?” J said over the phone.
“Ms. J!” Sam said firmly, allowing her blanket to fall to the floor as she stood at attention. “Ma’am. What, uh… How may I serve?”
J let out a quick groan that crackled through the cellphone’s speakers before responding. “Cut the pleasantries, Sam. I have a mission for you two: a simple escort.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “For me and... Maxwell, right?”
“Who else? You two live together, and you always choose the shame shifts. If I didn’t know better, I would have assumed you two were a thing.”
“Ew!” Sam blurted out before she could cover her mouth with her other hand. “Is that what people are saying? Because I can set the record straight an-”
“Sam.”
“Y-yes, ma’am?”
“Do you want the mission?”
“Well, I…”
“It’s either yes or no. Pick one.”
Sam was all but eager to take on another mission, but she knew what Maxwell’s answer would most likely be. He was still recovering from his leg injury, and as she glanced at the clock on her phone, she guessed that the two of them had gotten roughly just four hours of sleep.
“You were recommended, by the way,” J said just to break the silence. “Lieutenant Tempest insisted that this will help justify your recommendations for promotion. I'm still not sure how you convinced him to speak so highly of you, but who am I to say what actually happened at the museum?”
Hold on, we’re finally getting a chance for a promotion after our worst job yet? Sam paused again before answering. “Yes…” Sam gradually breathed out. “If it’s an easy escort, we’ve got it covered.”
“Finally…” J said before muttering something Sam couldn’t make out. “You’ll be given details once you’re picked up,” she said in a firm voice. “If my memory is anything to go by, you two live at that dead motel place a few blocks from our telecom’s office front, correct?”
“Uh, yea-”
“We will rendezvous there, then. Be outside in half an hour.” The line cut out before anything more could be said.
Did she say, “We”? Sam thought. She then tossed her phone behind her onto the bed and buried her face in her palms. “Great job, Sam, I’m sure Maxwell will just LOVE going on another mission after what happened last time,” she said to herself while sliding her hands down her cheeks and off her chin. She then rushed out of her room, hesitating at Maxwell’s door directly across from her own before opening it and abruptly stepping in. She immediately began shaking him. It took only a second for Maxwell to open his eyes and slap away Sam’s barrage.
Maxwell then quickly sat up in his bed and glared at Sam. His tired eyes were dark with bags under them, and his usually sleek hair was a mess of unwanted curls and spikes. “I thought we were done with these prank vids, it’s not fucking funny!” Maxwell cried out.
“Max...” Sam addressed him as she clapped her hands together. “I know you’re gonna hate me for this-- shit, you probably already do right now, but I got us another mission,” Sam said as she rubbed her hands together and showed a grin that was as large and cheesy as it was desperate.
“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I thought our reward for going through HELL yesterday was the gift of sleeping in the next day; am I wrong?!” Maxwell said as his voice escalated in both volume and anger.
“I know, I know…” Sam said as she moved in for a quick pat on the shoulder. “It was J. She said they want us for an escort job.”
“She called us?” Maxwell said in surprise while absentmindedly attempting to fix his hair. “You mean, she called us for an actual job that doesn’t involve guard duty in that smelly dead-end hallway near the garage bay?”
“Well, apparently Tempest vouched for our promotion opportunity.”
Maxwell placed his hand on his chin, “Dang, that’s the best news I’ve heard today,”
“Wait, really?” Sam tilted her head sideways. “So you’re okay with goin--”
“Hell fucking no. I literally just woke up,” Maxwell exclaimed, staring Sam dead in the eyes in bewilderment. “I’m just glad that my powers have been consistently helping us so far,”
“So that thing you did last night is still affecting him...” Sam realized. Maxwell sat on his bed twiddling his thumbs until he leaned back and let out a loud whining noise. He then looked over to Sam, whose fake smile had been overshadowed by her gritting teeth and downcast eyes. “Look, I can probably make some sort of excu--”
“Aw, forget it, Sam. I’m going,” Maxwell said as he forced himself to walk over to the bathroom.
"Okay, but like, you don't think it's going to wear off or anything, right?" Sam added as she followed.
“Just gotta hope, I guess,” Maxwell said as he closed the bathroom door behind him.
Sam went back into her room to start her own preparations. Sam and Maxwell took turns using the shower and getting ready. All the while, Sam repeated the few details that she had received from J to Maxwell.
“How do we need to dress?” Maxwell called out from the bathroom.
“She didn't say, so I'm guessing it doesn't matter. Just dress casual?”
With only a few minutes to spare, Sam and Maxwell were able to have a quick breakfast of coffee, some crumbly granola bars, and plenty of painkillers. The two of them walked down the stairs of their motel-like apartment building and waited on the sidewalk in front of the motel’s entrance, dressed like they were going to a gym with shorts and t-shirts.
“How’s your leg, by the way?” Sam asked. “You didn’t need help getting down the stairs.”
Maxwell looked to her and back to his leg. “Honestly, as long as we don’t have to run, I’ll be fine,” he said while gently patting the stitched-up wound.
“J said it’s gonna be simple, and even though she’s a tough bitch 24/7, I respect that she’s not the lying type.”
Maxwell raised an eyebrow. “You said something like that last night, too. Admit it, you’re warming up to Ms. J now.”
“She’s our boss. ‘Course I gotta play nice with her.”
“I get that, but there’s no point in kissing her ass if she’s nowhere in sight,” Maxwell added. “I know you. When you dislike someone even a tiny bit, we’d gossip and talk mad shit about them just like we did back in high school.”
Sam turned away from Maxwell to look down the road. “I just appreciate that she doesn’t act like a snake to us. Had enough of that shit with my previous jobs.”
Still standing in place, Maxwell tried to peek around to see Sam’s face more clearly. As he inched closer, Sam turned her head even farther. Maxwell hummed in acknowledgment, dropping the conversation.
A shining black convertible whistled down the street towards the duo. The smell of burning diesel and hot rubber began to overtake the street as the sports car screeched to a halt right in front of them. With the car parked but still revved up, the driver opened the roof of the car and took a better look at the motel behind the duo.
“Wow, you were right, J. They do have a pretty sweet place,” said Lieutenant Tempest. He appeared far less sinister and almost friendly without his supervillain attire. He wore a bright-blue button-up shirt with khaki shorts, soundly fitting his lean physique and trimmed body. The duo couldn’t see a single wrinkle on his face. Nonetheless, his offputting smile and tired eyes still gave him his usual wicked aura.
J sat out from the passenger side of the car and observed the duo, presenting with her air of silence. Her usual pompadour hairstyle was subdued a bit, styled backward, and tied back in a bun with a hair scarf. Like Tempest, she wore a very summery outfit with an open floral blouse and a high-waist skirt.
“You look very pretty today, Ms. J,” Sam told her earnestly with her hands held behind her back.
J looked over to Sam, seeing her soft grinning face and darting eyes clear as day.
“What about me? Am I looking pretty today?” Tempest sneered.
Keeping silent, J rolled her eyes and motioned the duo into the backseat. The seats were clean and had the distinct “new car” odor to them; it was a tight fit for the duo. Sam had both her legs cramped up sitting behind J. Maxwell gave her extra space by scooting closer to the door, allowing Sam to make do with one leg stretched out and comfortable. With all four of them seated, Tempest brought the roof back up and drove off.
“We’re heading to Venice Beach. We’ll be meeting our contact at a restaurant for a trade. We’ll chat for a bit, hand off whatever we salvaged from last night’s heist, get our stuff in return, and we all leave happy.” J said, turning her head towards the duo behind her.
“And let’s cross our fingers that no superhero comes crashing in and brutalizes you two, am I right?” Tempest threw in.
The duo nervously giggled in response. Ignoring Tempest, J reached for the car’s large custom-built glove compartment and brought out Hawaiian shirts, boardshorts, and sunglasses. “You’ll need to change into these once we park,” J said. “And only use these as a last resort.” J passed Sam and Maxwell each a holstered pistol. The two went to grab them, and Maxwell immediately noticed how much heavier the gun was than what he was used to; he had to use both hands to grab it so that he could suitably point it straight. “Those are 40mms. Real field agent stuff, not that junk we put in the henchman grunt kits.”
“Yeah, the stopping power on those actually stops people,” Tempest added.
“Let’s hope you won’t need to use them.”
Receiving her gun, Sam just wanted to examine and gawk at the weapon, but she quickly put it away as J flipped out a few folders and continued talking.
“Our contact publicly goes by Izna Varma, supervillain alias: Dr. Karcharias. She daylights as an entrepreneur who owns a few small shops and restaurants dotting Socal, but her real passion is being a villain who specializes in Stardust synthesis research. Her organization assisted us with getting our original science department up and running in return for protection and stolen goods.”
Hearing her say, “Stardust synthesis,” the neutral expression on Sam’s face fell off as her eyes widened with curiosity while Maxwell, although not as curious as Sam, paid close attention to what J was saying.
“We’ve been building a steady business relationship with them for quite some time now, s-“
“J, we all love to hear your gorgeous lips move,” Tempest interrupted, “But you gotta be tired by now, right? Just let them read it for themselves.”
“These dossiers are on a need-to-know ba--”
“And they need to know, so let it go already,” Tempest casually replied back as he put a hand on J’s shoulder. J jerked away from him and scowled back at Tempest who smartly kept his head straight forward, paying attention to the road.
J reluctantly held the folders over her seatback and Sam and Maxwell quickly snatched them out of her hands with ease. Maxwell immediately began tearing through the folder looking for any signs of what they’re specifically transporting and what they may be picking up. Sam, however, was eager to read more about Dr. Karkarias' Stardust synthesis research.
She began with the first article of note: Dr. Karcharias’ profile page. In the attached photo, she was wearing a lab coat and appeared to have a similar thin physique to Maxwell but with brown hair and dark umber skin. Although she was smiling brightly in her mugshot, the duo could not help but feel off-put that they could not see her eyes clearly; her face was mostly obstructed by her large round blue-tinted glasses. The profile went on to describe Dr. Karcharias’ criminal organization.
“The Riptides... never heard of these guys,” Sam said out loud.
“They’re relatively small and rarely do anything to attract attention. Though they are big enough that the GPO keeps an eye out for them, they’re not big enough to get on the news,” J answered.
As they continued to read through the files, they went off a list that included such publicly known info as her age and where she was born. Another page had info on her villain persona, listing things like her skills as a scientist as well as her powers. The duo read that she apparently had her power classified as a “monster hybrid” with various features from aquatic animals such as sharks and manta rays.
A few other papers also tabulated her villainous organization and front operations, all of which were snippets gathered or stolen from different intelligence sources including the Reigning Storm’s very own elite spies. It also included a few blank spots for unknown information or uncertainties such as her family’s whereabouts.
“Ms. J, what does ‘Karcharias’ mean exactly?” Maxwell asked.
“It’s the scientific genus word for shark, but with a K in front instead of a C,” she answered obligingly.
“So she’s basically just ‘Dr. Shark’ then?”
Sam giggled. “Pffft laaaaaame. Like, where’s the fun in naming yourself on your own power? It’s so overdone.”
“Freedom of expression: results may vary,” J said.
The duo paused and looked at each other in bewilderment. Did J just crack something remotely close to a joke?
"In any case, keep your personal opinions away from her and her cronies."
“Codenames are hard to come up with,” Tempest said, while still absentmindedly weaving in and out of traffic. "Some people get pretty sensitive about that shit since it's so personal. Everyone tries so hard to be different in a world full of copycats. On the other hand, I got my codename from Gravitus just because I had no ideas, really."
"You don't care about your supervillain name?" Maxwell asked in genuine surprise.
Tempest rubbed his neck. "I mean, I'm not married to the identity like some people are. It is just a job after all," he answered with a refreshing amount of bluntness.
Sam shrugged and continued casually reading to pass the time. Maxwell crossed his arms in thought, realizing that he’d never heard anyone with Tempest’s sort of background discuss their feelings so casually. As Maxwell continued to ponder, however, he realized that his own prior knowledge of the attitudes of superheroes and supervillains was undoubtedly all hearsay and speculation.
The rest of the drive from the city to the beachside took a little over half an hour. As the highway roads converged into tight streets and sidewalks overflowing with people, the duo knew that they were very close to showtime. Driving further in, Tempest lowered the car’s roof again, letting the cool breeze from the seaside around them, bringing with it the smell of fresh air and the scent of the ocean.
J snatched the files back from the duo while they weren’t paying attention, leaving them still with a few unanswered questions. “We’re here,” she said as she hid away her papers in the glove compartment. Tempest managed to park a short block away from the meeting place. J turned towards the duo once more and said, “Final notes: stick close, only speak when spoken to, and keep an eye on everyone and everything.”
As they all got out of the car, Sam felt the high noon sun’s scorching heat and intense light beating down on them. Shading their eyes with their hands, the duo split off from J and Tempest and hurried to the public changing rooms that were close by. Sam was hoping she could practice aiming down the sights of her new pistol behind a locked door, but the cramped space and the fact that she was technically still in public made her rethink her idea, at least for the time being. Maxwell was focused less on the gun and more on the fact that, with their disguises, J was able to get both of their sizes correct.
Waiting for Sam and Maxwell to return to the car, Tempest grabbed two suitcases from the trunk. “So how was my driving, J? Good? Very good?” he asked.
“We’re about six minutes late,” J scoffed as she put a few coins into their parking meter. She then retrieved her purse from the glove compartment and walked off through the crowds of locals and tourists, scouting ahead.
The duo returned to the car, barely missing J, dressed in their vacation disguises. “Damn it! We should have taken a selfie,” Sam said as she stopped to kick a pebble on the side of the street.
“Better not risk it. Low-rung henchmen like us need to keep our plausible deniability checks intact,” Maxwell stated.
“As always, you’re right,” Sam pouted. “Yo, but we look fuckin’ fab though, right?”
“Hell yeah,” Maxwell grinned as he and Sam gave each other a strong high five.
The two of them threw their old clothes in the trunk and escorted Tempest with his rolling suitcases. Sam’s heart began to race as they moved through the crowd, more or less hiding in plain sight and passing unaware civilians. She was experiencing the same mixed feeling of fear and unwavering confidence that she had felt in her previous mission. She couldn’t help but grin wider as they reached J at the front of their destination, and for the first time, Maxwell was also enjoying the rush of adrenaline his deviousness gave him. “Now this is something I can get used to,” he said to Sam.
Reaching the corner restaurant with no trouble at all, the four of them were welcomed at the front podium of The Manta’s Bay restaurant. The greeter motioned the group inside. “She’s been expecting you,” the greeter said, bowing with a smile.
Maxwell surveyed the restaurant as they crept in. The restaurant walls were painted sky blue and had white drapes and accents encircling them. There were a few ceiling fans filling the room with cold air, some muffled-sounding TVs, and security cameras that were hung up on the walls, but nothing looked out of the ordinary for a simple seafood restaurant.
Sam surveyed the collection of patrons. There were small groups of friends and families who had clearly just arrived for lunch. Most of them were being seated close to the entrance with eager waiters rushing around. No one looked strange or out of place, including Sam and her entourage. It was practically impossible to tell random civilians apart from henchmen. Is everyone that works here a henchman? Or just a few people? Maybe even the customers too? she wondered.
In the very back of the main dining area was a large roundtable already plated with porcelain dinnerware, polished utensils, and blue folded napkins. There was a booth seat curved around the table in the corner. Sitting in the middle of the booth was a figure who looked unmistakably like the doctor whom the duo saw in the dossiers. Dr. Karcharias was still wearing the same glasses but was also wearing a turquoise lace summer dress instead of a lab coat. She was reading a book and sitting comfortably with her diminutive frame nestled between two larger brutish-looking people who were taking up the majority of the space in the booth. They were a man and a woman dressed in leather jackets, jeans, and boots that threw the concept of flaunting out the window and made intimidation center stage. With their surveying head movements and their eyes constantly scanning the environment from behind their thick shades, it was clear to the duo that they were her guards. As soon as they spotted the quartet approaching, one of the guards leaned closer to the doctor and whispered in her ear.
Karcharias looked up with a smile, and at the same time, threw her book into the lap of one of her guards. Maxwell discerned what seemed to be a familiar manga with teenagers wearing Japanese high school uniforms and surrounded by hearts on the cover.
“Ah! Ms. J and Mr. Tempest. So good to see you two again!” the woman called out with her hands raised and head held high.
“Apologies for any delays,” J said as she took the seat directly in front of Karcharias.
“Oh, there’s always traffic here,” she said, waving her hand. “No need to worry.”
J and Tempest took their seats. There were four chairs opposite of the booth seat and they chose to sit in the middle with the suitcases to their sides. Sam and Maxwell sat between the two of them.
“Before we begin,” Karcharias started, “How’s Snuggles? You’ve been feeding her well I hope?”
“The shark you gifted us? Doing fine,” Tempest answered. “Being fed very… generously, let’s say.”
Karcharias pleasingly hummed and nodded. “And my brother, how is he?”
Tempest grunted, as his expression turned sour. He glared over to J to answer in his stead.
“Likewise, he’s doing fine,” she said.
Karcharias instantly pouted as if she was disappointed by their mild-mannered answer. Even so, her frown quickly turned back into a smile as she snapped her fingers, signaling one of her guards to reveal a black briefcase that was sitting between them. “Right. Then shall we talk business?”
J reached into her purse, prompting Karcharias’ guards to lean closer in. Sam and Maxwell panicked for a brief second, whether or not to reach for their guns. Much to both sides’ relief, J simply pulled out a folded piece of paper. Tempest stood up and signaled Maxwell to stand up and help him bring around their two suitcases to one of the guards.
“I’m returning your list,” J said as she handed it to Karcharias. “We managed to retrieve most of the big-name items: Red Glow’s costume, Kathryn P. Arthur’s suit and tie, The Masked Leopard’s… mask. However, if you don’t know already, we had an ‘excursion’ occur last night. Some of the smaller items may have been unaccounted for.”
Karcharias snickered, “Oh I know all about that. In fact...” Karcharias put her hand out signaling one of her guards to give her a TV remote, “Everyone knows.” She changed the channel to the news, presenting a news report on the Reigning Storm’s latest heist thwarted by an up-and-coming superhero: Lady Lustrous. The hero’s self-satisfied body language and unrelenting smile while being interviewed were evidence enough of the Reigning Storm’s failure.
Sam stared at the TV with a furrowed brow, pressing a tight fist against her thigh. The rest of the Reigning Storm crew shared her fuming sentiments of malice, but Sam was the only one having difficulty hiding it, even while wearing sunglasses.
“Coconut shrimp appetizer platter, ma’am!” a waitress said as she set down the plate of food gently on the table.
“Thank you, Susan!” Karcharias said to the waitress. “Apologies, I didn’t have breakfast today. Would any of you care to try something off the menu?” she asked her guests as she grabbed a shrimp to bite. “My treat!” she added.
“No thank you, we won’t be here for long,” J replied.
“Right. Business, business, business…”
One of the guards leaned in closer to Karcharias, “Boss, should you really be eating that here? In front of them?” she interrupted.
“You worry too much, my dear,” Karcharias said while chewing on a whole piece of shrimp and preparing to dip a second in cocktail sauce. She continued eating and snapped her fingers again, prompting the guard with the briefcase to pass it over to J and roll the suitcases over to their side of the table. “These will all look lovely in my private collection, J.”
“Is this it?” Tempest asked as he placed his hands on the briefcase.
Karcharias nodded. “That’s right. A full dosage of one of the last Mark 2s in the Stardust series. Superpower guaranteed, but with the caveat being that the recipient’s power will be entirely random,” Karcharias clarified.
J grabbed the sides of the briefcase and brought it closer to her. It was heavy, sturdy, and cool to the touch, almost like an ice cooler.
“The code is four-four-nine-five,” Karcharias said.
J put in the first two numbers before she stopped. “Would you like to look through the suitcases? Double-check to see if everything’s in order?”
“Oh, it’s fine. It’d be poor form to assume that you’d try to swindle me. Especially after your public debacle.”
“In that case,” J added. “We’ll open this once we leave as well.”
Karcharias gave J an odd smirk, trying to figure out how to respond or even continue their conversation. “I based my own personal formula on the Mark 2’s after all, because of its one-hundred-percent success rate and all.”
“I’m assuming that you want to bring something else up, correct?”
Karcharias put her elbows on the table and leaned in. “The Mark 2s require a professional to properly administer the serum. Without proper technique or aftercare, the subject could just drop dead a day after application,” she said, happily shrugging. “Not a very good investment in time, money, or lives, yes?”
“It would be a disastrous outcome, correct,” J answered as she raised an eyebrow, waiting for Karcharias to continue. “Go on.”
“I have a proposition for the bossman himself,” Karcharias declared as she gently rubbed her fingers together. “But first, another quick question. How big is your science team at the moment? Actually, better question: would you care to receive further assistance from us in that department?”
“Let’s get to the point then,” J said as she sat up straight. “You want a new extended contract with us?”
“A merger, if you will, that works more in your favor than mine,” Karcharias said as she gave a slight nod. “Frankly, I’ve gotten sick of micromanaging all of our cover operations on top of doing freelancing work for other organizations. All of our other clients are just too picky!” Pausing to scarf down another shrimp, she continued, “They all say the same old trite, ‘Oh can you make her fangs smaller?’ or, ‘Do you have to make them crave human flesh?’ They just... lack their own creative vision, AND they don’t trust me enough to let me do what I want!” Her lips curled into a devious smile drawing in the attention of everyone around the table. “The Kaiser, on the other hand, is refreshingly straightforward. He couldn’t care less if his new forces were half wolf or half snapping turtle.”
“As long as they do their jobs right,” J added.
“Oh, and they will! We just need more time and money for R&D which is what you can provide us with in return for any of our serv--” Karcharias interrupted herself with her own cough, and with every attempt to clear her throat, her cough got even worse to the point that she started to wheeze. Maxwell scooted out of his chair for a second, thinking he could help her. He realized it wasn’t his place to do so, however, and slowly scooted back in, hoping no one noticed his movement.
“Excuse me for one moment, please,” Karcharias said while covering her coughs and wiping a bit of sweat off of her forehead. The guard on her left scurried out of her way and followed her into the bathroom, leaving the other guard alone with the rest of the Reigning Storm team.
“Y’all better take that offer,” the remaining guard said.
Tempest, being the closest one to him besides Maxwell, fired back first. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know your opinion mattered.” Clapping his hands together, he also added, “Oh wait, it doesn’t.”
The man clenched his fists under the table, holding himself from standing up and doing something regrettable. “A stupid little rat like you wouldn’t know a good deal if it bit ya. Having a power trumps anything your techs can design or manufacture.”
“And powers don’t mean a thing without years of proper training.” At that very moment, Tempest banged his fist on the steak knife next to his plate. Applying the perfect amount of force to have it launch in the air in front of him, he grabbed the knife midair and pressed its edge against the man’s bare neck. “Let alone skill.”
The guard reeled back solely based on instinct. Although his angered expression changed only slightly, sweat began to accumulate on his forehead and run down to his brow.
“What the hell are you thinking, Tempest?” J whispered aggressively. She looked back and forth from them, keeping a lookout if anyone behind was eyeing them. Sam and Maxwell, although mildly startled, followed J’s actions and also tried to keep watch.
“I’m putting this ugly monster in his place,” Tempest said leaning in as his smile widened. “Now then, you got three options. Either you cause a scene, I cause a scene, or you just bite your tongue and pretend you never said a damn thing to me.”
The guard began to breathe hard enough to reach Tempest’s face. “You think you can kill me... before I go all out? My driver type is automatic.”
“Only one way to find out, right big boy?”
Sam and Maxwell’s attention quickly drew back to the confrontation in front of them and lingered there. They sat silent and awestruck seeing Tempest in action up close and personal. His commanding presence distracted them from the imminent dangers or the potential consequences of all of this. The eagerly watching duo reacted as if they were spectators to an intense live performance, minus the guns they had forgotten in their pockets.
Ultimately, after a few seconds of silence, Tempest pulled away his knife. The guard, in turn, sat further in his seat and scoffed away from them all. Karcharias’ other guard returned a minute after, and behind her was an even larger figure wearing a full trenchcoat, scarf, and wide-brimmed hat. The tall figure’s footsteps sounded moist and heavy on the restaurant’s old mahogany floor.
A voice came from the tall disguised figure, “Terribly sorry about that. You know how these things go.” Much the same as her appearance had changed, Karcharias’ voice had morphed from sounding high pitched and excitable into something oddly viscous and guttural. As she sat back down in the middle of the booth seat, three shrimp suddenly vanished from the center plate, then four, and finally the entire plate was empty, crumbs and garnish included. In the flurry, Sam caught glances of Karcharias’ grabbing hands and noticed that her skin had changed to something of a lavender color with dark purple scales surrounding her new claw-like hands, which were twice the size of what Sam originally saw from her.
“Got something to say?!” the female guard bellowed as she started to bear her monstrous-like teeth at Sam while uttering her own deep growl.
Intimidated by the monster in front of her but even more intimidated by J’s mere presence, Sam pushed her sunglasses further up and remained silent.
“My babies, please calm down. This must be their first glimpse at a subject of true hidden beauty,” Karcharias assured them as she patted one of them on the head. She then looked over to the duo, “My ‘Driver’ is a bit more finicky than others. Unlike most, my human form is only temporary,” she added.
J put a hand on her chest and hurried to bow her head. “Apologies for us being late once ag--”
"Like I said before, it’s no trouble at all Ms. J. Besides, shrimp taste better in this form, anyway, so I'm all the happier,” Karcharias said as she licked her newly formed full ink-black lips.
J got out of her seat and stood up. “Very well. You’ll receive a call once we’ve come to a decision.”
“So you will ask him? Good! I’ll be waiting eagerly,” Karcharias said. “Though, if you take too long, I can’t guarantee you’ll be our first buyers.”
“You’ve made your offer to some others?”
“Not at all,” Karcharias said playfully, “yet.”
J nodded. “Once again, thank you for your time,” she said as she grabbed the briefcase off the table. Tempest, Sam, and Maxwell stood and fell in line, following J out of the restaurant just as casually as they had entered it. A few eyes, from both guests and waiters, watched all four of them leave, but no gazes lingered for too long. Not a soul, however, looked towards the back table they came from.
“Have a safe trip home,” the returning greeter said to them.
The drive back to Reigning Storm’s HQ was near-silent, at least in terms of human voices. Sam and Maxwell had a lot on their minds and wanted to spill their thoughts and feelings with each other, but not in front of their superiors.
Maxwell stared out the window throughout the trip, gazing at each billboard and rocky mountainside they passed by. The truth of their careers was now sinking in more than ever. Living on the edge is just my life now, huh? He reasoned with himself. As the car stopped at a busy intersection, Maxwell saw brightly colored lawn signs dotting a patch of dried grass outside of an outdoor mall. Upon further inspection, he saw that they were advertising a pawnshop; specifically buying and selling rare collectibles and super paraphernalia. For a moment, Maxwell’s eyes lit up, realizing that this could be their first prospect on what to do with their stolen ring. He tried to grab Sam’s attention without getting Tempest’s and J’s as well, shaking Sam out of what seemed to be a daze to him.
“What’s up?” Sam asked as their car accelerated past the lotted signs.
“There were signs an-- ugh… nevermind,” Maxwell said as he slouched back over to his passenger window again.
Sam returned to her previous position without a care. She kept her head forward, keeping a perpetual gaze on the briefcase J was holding in her lap for the entirety of the trip.