Chapter One: The Master
Somewhere in Rome.
The bar was small. Smaller than most he'd been in, and for some reason, also the most crowded.
He'd been contacted by a reliable source of income and told to meet here and that big things were on the rise, naturally being the curious sort, Slade decided to see for himself just how big these things were.
Between the obnoxiously loud music, drunk, sweaty bargoers, and ciggerate smoke, Slade didn't know if he could wait any longer for his contact to arrive. Smitherson had told Slade that he would arrive at the Black Pearl at 8:35pm. Slade had checked his Rolex over ten minutes ago, and the time had been 9:15pm.
Smitherson knew that Slade did not tolerate having his time wasted.
He knew that, any attempt at sabatoge would also be greeted with distain.
But dealt with far more severely.
And from what Slade knew of him, the latter was far from being the case. Which led Slade to the conclusion, that Smitherson had been made.
And was more than likely dead.
This led to Slade having other thoughts.
Like who was the mole that had given away Smitherson's life? And how much did it have to do with him? Was Smitherson a message being sent to Slade directly? Or, was he killed after severe torture in which he refused to give away Slade's whereabouts?
Or perhaps he had.
Slade was sure that Smitherson would never betray him for money or if being threatened. But what if these guys had just gotten right down to the pain distribution? Everyone had a threshold, and Slade was willing to bet that Smitherson's wasn't that high.
Damn.
Damn, damn. Damn!
He had to move. He was a damn sitting duck in that place. The building itself was no bigger than the average corner convenience store, but it was packed with more bodies than a serial killers basement. And given that it was Rome, there was more than a few questionable looking individuals.
He was beginning to think that that was the plan all along.
That either Smitherson had been far more underhanded than Slade had given him credit for. Or, he had been dead longer than anyone knew, and his "contact" had been a false flag.
It wasn't inconceivable. Voice recognition software could easily be hacked, and then reactivated to fit ones needs. He knew this, because he'd done this himself. Which, is normally something Slade would usually pay for, but when a job requires a touch of tech know-how, Slade had had the for thought to learn his way around technology. Through both trial and error Slade had successfully taught himself to get around a few barriers, that would ordinarily prove a complete stop for most.
He still banked on Smitherson being touched, but if he were alive then he should know that he should shoot himself in the head before Slade gets to him, it would be quicker.
And far, far, less painful.
"Mr. Wilson," Came a deep yet soothing, salesman like voice from directly behind Slade. Causing the mercenary to turn around to properly see the person it had come from. "I'm Equinox. I'll be your new contact with H.I.V.E."
"What happened to Smitherson?"
"Unfortunately, Mr. Smitherson was recently retired and thus, removed from all existing duties such as being your liasion and contractor."
Slade eyed this newest arrival to his bleak, yet adventure feuled life. The boy was young, tall, and tough looking. He had the upper build and lean legs of a Marine infantryman. But, Slade pegged him as a Seal. His shoulders had the edges made for treading and breaking water. And his legs could have easily been developed during hours worth of laps in an Olympic sized pool. The boys' eyes were a lazy, smokey shade of grey, he had a clean shaven goatee and his hair was a low cut strawberry blonde. Slade had never been attracted to men, but he could always admit when one was handsome.
Equinox could have made it slinging boxers and bodywash if the spook work didn't cut it for him.
But that didn't seem to be a problem. Equinox had managed to sneak up on him. Something Slade cursed himself on the inside for allowing. What if Equinox had been there to kill him?
Would he have succeeded?
Slade abruptly brushed away the troubling thoughts of his own, possible death for others. Like what if he wasn't the only super soldier the United States government had decided to crap out? Maybe Equinox was his replacement. A brand spanking new model designed to do away with the old.
Sure, he wasn't actually positive that that was the case of course.
But Slade was sure of one thing. And that was that he and Equinox were going to square off one day.
He just knew it.
"Any particular reason?" Slade asked. They were wedged between the bar and what appeared to be a stage. Earlier the DJ had thrown a mean glance their way, but relented the moment he and Slade had locked eyes. That was pretty much the end of it right there.
"Mr. Smitherson had been outted as a field agent for the United States Treasury Department." Stated Equinox calmly. "After the truth was found out about his betrayal, my employers thought it best that we permanently remove any possible threats Mr Smitherson may have provided in the future."
"H.I.V.E. isn't worried about the Treasury looking into this? I make it my business to avoid killing government suits," Slade shrugged at this, " I mean, when I can afford to."
Equinox smiled and said, "H.I.V.E. fears no one. Hell, we are the government." Equinox pushed himself up on his toes, arms straight at his sides, and proudly finished with, "All. The. Governments."
The music had gotten louder and the patrons roudier, by 1am Slade and Equinox had made themselves a hold off in a darkened corner of the "bar," and that was only manegable because there were no seats or bottles of beer on this particular side of the building. Slade had gotten he and Equinox a round, and then they got into the ins and outs of their new arrangement.
Slade would still handle operations his way. No red tape. And, despite being his newest "friend" from H.I.V.E. Slade would still consult with Wintergreen.
That was a given. William Wintergreen was the closest thing he'd ever had to a crochity, old, slightly verbally abusive, British father. And, quite frankly, he'd feel a hell of a lot better knowing someone may have an idea where he is or could be if things go sideways.
"Mr. Wilson, I would first like it to be known, that I am well aware of your reputation, and I can assure you that I am hoping for a smooth and successful business relationship. Your gain is also my gain."
"Uh, huh." Slade grumpled. "I smelled gun powder on you. Fresh. Let me guess, Smitherson "retired" sometimes today am I right?"
At first silence.
And then..
"We should really get down to buisness, Mr. Wilson," answered Equinox, a slight, almost proud look on his face. "It is getting late."
"It was late a few hours ago," replied Slade, taking a sip of his fifth beer of the night. Slade suffered from an unfortunate condition. He couldn't get drunk, or at least not without spending a grand. So, he allowed himself to indulge a bit. He hoped that Equinox would see it as a sign of weakness. Thinking Slade the fool only further gave Slade the advantage. "So, who's the mark?"
Equinox took a drink himself before removing a small lamenated photo from his perfectly creased jackets right breast pocket. He handed it to Slade, whom upon viewing the photograph, looked back at Equinox intensely.
"This serious?"
"Very Mr Wilson. H.I.V.E has reason to believe that this man, David Cain may be a threat to all that we stand to build if he is not eliminated." Equinox finishes, takes a swig of beer, wipes his mouth, and then looks upon Slade's face. Questioning. "Did you know him?"
"Yeah, long time ago. Man was one of my combat instructors."
Slade began to recall painful PT sessions and one hundred man sparring matches. His brain filled with flashes of smashing bamboo into bricks until the blisters in his scab filled hands exploded in a bloody, pus covered mess.
He smiled.
"Cain was one tough bastard. I remember being run ragged during a four mile hike through Texas summer. It was torture. And that shit lasted all summer. Every, damn day! Wanna know something crazy? I swear to God, I Never saw him stop for a drink of water. Ever." Again, another smile.
This one wider than before.
"This.. this isn't going to be a problem is it?" Equinox asked, concern in his voice. "We may be able to comission Floyd La-"
I got it!" Snapped Slade, a bit more harshly than needed. But he couldn't help himself. Floyd Lawton was a touchy subject. Right up there with talk about his family and his Catholic school "responsibility" to father David.
People still believed that Lawton was a match for him.
And that may have been the truth.
But one day, Slade would find out once and for all for himself. Until then, he made due with contracts on other slobs.
He didn't necessarily want to kill Cain.
But he would.
Because at the end of the day a job was a job and bullets held no sympathy nor bias.
Something needs to get done they get it done.
And so did he.
"I'm sorry..." Slade apologized, breathing in deeply; hating that he had once again allowed Equinox to get too close to him. This time emotionally. "I have to consult with my buisness associate first, as per our agreement, but you should have a satisfactory response by tomorrow."
"Very good Mr. Wilson," Equinox said as he stood from their space on the wall and extended his hand. Slade noting his grip as being as firm as his new handlers hold on his job. "It was a pleasure. But I do believe that this concludes our buisness."
With a final salute the younger man melted into the crowd.
And Slade, well, he prepared to kill a legend.
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