Chương 3: Tango

The thing that shocked me most about the trip was that Agent Tancred was doing the driving. I thought maybe there'd be some kind of police escort or a helicopter or something interesting. No, he instead led me to his car, an old deep brown one from probably the 1960s that seemed pristine but had all those little marks of age. Small ones like leaf stems that sat near the gas pedals that betrayed how clean and dustless the windshield and dashboard looked. It drove like shit, which I guess was interesting.

The agent seemed to be stuck constantly jerking the steering wheel one way or another at random intervals, as though if he didn't, we were going to conveniently roll off into a ravine or something, even when it was flat parking lots on either side. It put this kind of nausea in me like my feet were about to fall out from under me and my stomach followed along like it was tied to them. And then I got struck by that jerking motion over and over for the entire ride. Most of the ride was silent.

It was about forty five minutes in that the agent spoke.

"Not a big talker, are you," he said in a tone absent of any actual question in it.

"Not really," I answered honestly.

"That's fine," he replied.

"Leader's enough of a talker for the team, you can stick to the quiet brooding act so long as you're able to communicate. But I think you should be careful, since I bet you don't like attention." I didn't humor his little segue, my gaze was fixated on passing billboards.

"You see, the ladies are obsessed with the quiet, angry types. They think you're something to fix. That they're justified in running face-first into whatever situation you're in, hoping for some kind of meet-cute. And then you get another civilian you gotta get out of there." More billboards kept me distracted from the rant. Flaka Ramirez's Albexican Fish Burgeria Sounded about as delicious as this rant sounded tolerable. Unfortunately, the agent agreed and kept going.

"You can keep casualty risks to a minimum if you find the right way to be approachable but still offputting. Mustaches are great for that," he claimed. I finally turned to look at him, noticing for the first time how much taller I was than him, and that I could properly look down at him.

"Is that why you have one?" I asked. He shook his head.

"No, I have mine because I don't look as sexy with a beard or cleanshaven." I finally began to process his appearance beyond just the nebulous shape of "a person with a mustache I wanted to punch bloody." He had a hairline that was losing a war with his forehead years ago and most of his hair retreated into the mullet sitting on the back of his head. He had no chin. The bags under his eyes could be seen through his blue-lensed glasses.

"Okay," I conceded. I didn't know anything about it. I didn't really want that image in my head either. The conversation seemed to have recognized it was time to die, and I was permitted refuge in silence again. Another physically agonizing half-hour later, and we ended up at what looked like any other building. Grey concrete walls, tall windows. Going by window count, it was four floors. The agent parked the car in one of six spaces beside it, the bumper only inches from a wooden fence.

He nodded to me to indicate that it was time to get out. He led me to the front door, only to walk right past it and curl a finger to indicate I should follow. We ended up circling around to what seemed to be the back of the building, where he stood in front of a plastic trash bin. He looked at me as he opened the lid with the zeal of an office clerk.

"Get in." I looked at the bin for a few seconds before looking at the agent.

"Get in?" Tancred nodded.

"Private entrance. Private exit's elsewhere too, show you that later. Get in." I pondered if he said private instead of secret because there's no way to be secret about this. I considered arguing, but at this point I was burnt out and was hoping any cooperation would get me closer to a spot where I could rest from the car sickness. I ambled over to the bin and awkwardly managed to climb into it. Must have been bolted down somehow to prevent it from just tipping over.

"You're not even gonna argue about it? No 'Ohhh man what the fuuuck' like all the others did? Thank God, need less whines." I didn't take any time to process his ranting as by the time I got my second foot in, I felt the floor give way from under me and send me down what seemed to be a metal tube. Seconds after I came in, I heard an "Alley oop!" echo down, telling me he was following soon after.

Most people's falling instincts were to reach out and grab at any sort of hold, but I've taken enough falls to know they don't bother me. Buzzing legs won't matter. I just let my arms sit by my sides as I shot through the little tunnel like a bullet. Every time I bumped off of the sides it sounded like an old tumble dryer full of quarters. Almost conveniently, by the time I thought this entrance took too long, I shot out through a hole and fell into what seemed to be a pit full of foam cubes.

I laid atop them, pondering how dense the pile was. The pondering was interrupted as Agent Tancred shot out of the same hole, careening through the air and managing a surprisingly graceful turn as he landed on both feet just after the pit. He didn't seem bothered. Did he have something like me? Wouldn't be impossible. Would also explain why he was comfortable pointing a gun at me. I rolled over and waded my way out of the pit, climbing up to stand next to him and observe the room. Rectangular.

The floor was this speckled grey tile that carried a similarly clinical air to that interrogation room. The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The walls had some dark wood on them, probably some kind of cheap paneling since it seemed we were underground. A couple more seconds of focus sold the idea to me; it looked more plastic than actual wood. T he room itself was a little sparse.

There seemed to be a kitchenette on one side with this little kitchen island with stools on either side, and on the other side was a spot with far-too-green AstroTurf and a large turned-off television that was tilted just enough that if I kept looking at it I'd start throwing things. Things. The sheer lack of things to even observe felt abnormal. Places are pretty alive. This one felt stillborn.

There were two doors, one directly across the room, across the narrow dimension of the rectangle, and one off to my left at the far end, both were some deep green metal. More Dumb Metal maybe? I considered asking later. It felt like someone took a big checklist of "Things a young adult would like in a place they were sharing with some friends" and could only get a third of the way through the list. I wondered if the refrigerator had anything in it.

The last refrigerator I saw had a governor's son sitting in it with two broken legs, so my bar was pretty low at that point. The nearer of the two doors opened as a man probably around my age stepped in. His hair dangled down his neck, an obnoxiously vibrant orange, which contrasted with his almost sickly pale skin and his vibrant green eyes. He seemed a bit on the thin side. In his hand was a bottle of soda.

He spoke with an almost jovial cadence while I was trying to figure out every way I could throw him across the room if he tried to threaten me.

"Oh snap, new guy! And hey Agent Tank!"

"Tancred," the agent corrected.

"Too many syllables," the redhead remarked as he approached me, extending a hand.

"Hi there, I'm Christian. You can just call me Chris." Tancred glanced up to me, following up on Christian's greeting.

"This is Christian Lofield, leader of The New Sentinels. His alter ego is Flowstate. You'll get to know both of those names well. Christian, this is Leo Holt. He's the vigilante we were looking into recruiting, should be 'Crunch' in the files we gave you." I looked at the agent. How long were they watching me? A draw of attention that almost felt like it burned brought my eyes back to Christian, however, whose hand was still extended. It didn't look as barbed as Tancred's, but I wasn't sure if I could trust it.

The look in his large green eyes seemed insistent. I wasn't getting out of this if either of them had a say. The Firmament was still looming over my head. I had to cooperate. Reaching out, I grasped his hand lightly to give it a shake. Tancred continued, his attention still on Christian.

"Chris, where are the others?" he asked. Christian responded while shaking my hand.

"Dr. Way took her kids and May out to see a movie." Tancred followed without missing a beat.

"And Jairo?" Christian matched tempo.

"He's on a run. He left like ten minutes ago so he should be back in twenty. They've all got their ear pieces, I made sure." Tancred sounded unimpressed.

"Not real useful with Jairo constantly ignoring his. I had to call him on his phone last week." The agent persisted, nonetheless: "And Eliza?" And Christian maintained pace: "Had to replace a tire. Should be back later, no idea when." The agent sighed.

"She could've just asked Dr. Way to fix it-" Christian looked a little appalled by Tancred's comment, his grip on my hand tightening just enough to notice.

"Eliza told us she doesn't want us to do any of our Sentinels stuff with her so that there's no conflict of interest. You were there for that meeting!" he called out. M y eyebrows raised a little. I decided I had space for a snipe, some sort of way to pretend I had a say in this.

"Yeah, you shouldn't be exploiting us like that, agent." I laid it a little thick on the "us" since I counted being kept in a concrete cube and forced to join clown college as exploitation. Tancred clicked his tongue.

"Yeah, yeah, you're right. Whatever. You're on tour duty for Leo here while I get his paperwork ready. I gotta give Perry a call too so he can stop by and talk shop for Leo's hero stuff. You've got two hours." With that, he trudged off through the door Christian came through, leaving us alone. He looked at me, cracking a smile.

"So I did read your file, and I saw you had super strength. I think that's super cool! Jairo's got strength too but it's not really his main thing. The rest of us don't have strength stuff, I've never been good at putting on any muscle. I make do though." I raised an eyebrow.

"You make do?" I asked like I was translating from English to English.

"Yeah, I did a lot of training before I got the offer, and my power helps with my moves. Lemme show you: Try to throw me. Hard as you want." My face curled a bit in confusion.

"I'd kill you." He shook his head.

"You actually can't. Just try it. I promise I'll be fine." I shook my head.

"I'm not doing that. You don't know my strength. I don't know what kind of strength you've dealt with. I don't make dumb calls like that." Christian's grip tightened. That was odd. Never felt pressure on my hand like that before. Didn't hurt, but usually people can't squeeze me like that.

"Buddy, I'm not letting go until you throw me. Trust me, you wouldn't be the first guy with super strength to throw me. I know your stuff, it's not fair that you don't know mine. Come on." What the Hell is wrong with this guy? I wanted to let go, but he just wasn't letting me. He was really pushing me for something this ridiculous. Fuck it. I decided to humor him, thinking I'd nudge him and let him spiral over.

I just tensed my shoulder still holding his hand and tilted a bit to my left, which should be enough to send him to the floor, but when I tried to do that, it was like I was pushing a brick wall. I gave another push, trying not to break his arm.

"You're not throwing me, you're pushing me. Throw me, dude," Christian stated with clear impatience. Frankly, I was getting just as impatient. I finally put a foot forward to try and yank him off his feet and properly huck him, thinking I could just whip him behind me and into the foam pit. That was not what happened. I actually started slipping as he began tipping my arm up and made me lose my balance. I found my footing again as I looked at him like he had three heads.

"Now you're trying. But you gotta try harder. Come on, I know you can do better." T hose words did something ugly to me, mostly pissed me off. If horizontal force didn't work, I was just gonna have to get him off the ground. Instead of torquing to the side, this time I simply dug both feet down as best I could on the tile floor and yanked up, and shockingly he went off of his feet without any issue. I arced him over behind me, but the damndest thing was he didn't arc through the air right.

It was like when you try to pour water out of something and the water immediately clings to whatever you're pouring it out of and spills back onto your hands. He fell back towards me, reaching out with his other hand and grabbing my pant leg around my knee. I was still in the motion of hurling him, and with him suddenly catching me at such a point, I actually whirled over him and ended up falling back into the pit of foam cubes.

Meanwhile, he seemed to have caught himself on his tiptoes and stopped himself from falling in with me. He just smiled down at me, before reaching his hand back out to me.

"See? I make do. I think we're gonna be able to synergize really well." I looked at the hand. Now I could see it. Just as barbed as the agent's. What the Hell have I gotten myself into?