Agent Abingale: Called In

The 24 hour cafe is dead.

The lady at the counter lies asleep with her head rested in her arms. In the booth farthest from the door, two men sit across from one another. The one with his back to the wall wears a trenchcoat over a black swimsuit, complimenting his deathly pale skin and silver hair. The other wears a black suit and tie, tightly wrapped over his chocolate coloured skin.

"What do you want?" The first says, fiddling with the pockets of his trenchcoat.

"I think you know, Agent Abingale." The second sips his third coffee of the night.

"Respectively Dr. Casvask, I don't like being bossed around."

"I am aware, you are quite the unruly one."

"I'll ask you again..." Agent Abingale spins the butter knife in his free hand. "What do you want?"

"I've got a mission for you."

"Oh?" Abingale stared on as Casvask removed a folder from his backpack and placed it between the two.

"Your brother's gone rogue. He's killed his fellow agents and stolen nine of the twelve items of power."

"Shouldn't this be a concern of the falcon squad?" Abingale observes as Casvask contemplated.

500 miles east of the diner.

A car is hijacked. Its driver's limp body hits the concrete and the cloaked figures drive off. The road stretches onwards in a straight line for 100 miles.

They start to close the distance.

"Normally. But..."

"He killed them?"

"Worse. He's taken control of COMMAND."

"What? How?"

"We don't know. COMMAND went silent four hours before his taakeover was noticed, he's been executing everyone he can get his hands on." Dr. Casvask shifts uncomfortably. Agent Abingale's eyes widen.

"How many are left?"

"I-"

"How many?"

"..." Dr. Casvask sighed. "5 that I know of, excluding us."

"Is..."

"I haven't been able to make contact with Herman, no. But he may still be alive. Last I heard he was on a mission in Northern Scotland."

250 miles east of the diner.

The car churns down the ride at the highest speed it can go. The road behind burns from the friction. There is no-one in sight.

"Fuck... what's the plan?" Agent Abingale puts his chin in his hand as Casvask finishes his coffee.

"I don't know."

"Why woud he do this? He was on the mend. He was getting back to... whatever kind of normal someone in our line of work can have."

"I think he's being controlled."

"What? Like magic? You and I both know that's not real."

"No, I mean like telepathy."

"We killed all the telekinetics. I remember Operation Mindsweep like the back of my hand."

"What if you're wrong?" Casvask looks down to his feet as Abingale scoffs.

"Don't start."

"They found it at the scene."

"What?" Casvask opens the folder in front of him to page 6 and holds it up to Abingale.

"The Telekin crest. In the blood of the last guy the new COMMAND killed."

"...It's a scare tactic. I've been in the field long enough to know this sorta thing."

"But what if its real?" A silence falls over the two for several minutes after.

The car slows. The occupants growl. The diner is near.

"Abingale?" Casvask stares at Abingale who gazes distantly through the window.

"Hey, do you know how to follow orders?" Abingale removes his trenchcoat.

"Of course."

"Good." Abingale steps out of the booth and places a red button in Casvask's hand.

"What's this?"

"Only press it when I say the word pancakes."

"Um... okay..." Casvask trails off as three owl-like figures dressed in all black storms into the diner.

"ABINGALE!" The figure in front shouts, removing the pistol from its belt and aiming it at Abingale.

"Hello, Gentlemen Falcons."

"YOU SHALL DIE!"

"Why?"

"THE SUPREME ONE COMMANDS IT!"

"And whoever might that be?"

"WE OWE YOU NO ANSWERS! ANY LAST WORDS?!"

"Only a request."

"..." The figures look from one to another. "...SPEAK!"

"I just want... to eat some pancakes." As commanded, Casvask slams his fist onto the button. The figures gasp, but immediately cease all motion, sparks flying from their temples. Abingale smirks as he pryed the pistol from the first figures hand. As he manages to pry it free, the first figure groans.

"What... is this?"

"This. Is death." Without another word, Abingale shoots each figure in the head. The lady at the counter jolts awake as the figures' corpses slam onto the marble floor.

"What the fu-" She is silenced by Abingale, who places the pistol against her forehead.

"Name?"

"Um... S-S-Susan."

"Well, Susan, do you have a car?" Casvask collects the folder back into his briefcase as Susan gulps.

"Y-yes?"

"Well then, I hope you aren't attached to this place." Abingale lowers the pistol as Susan raises her eyebrow.

"Why?"

"Because you're coming with us."