"Return of The Agent"

This has been a series that I've been working on in my private time, so I hope you guys like it!


It’s been a long time since I tried this. Looking down from the edge of my roof to the cold street wreathed in steam 15 stories below, I hoped my neighbors didn’t see me up here and call the cops, thinking that I’m attempting suicide or something. I promised my family that I’d given up the life that I’m going to attempt to re-enter five years ago, and I don’t want to tell them about all of this yet... I’ll talk to them when the time’s right.

Dante called me last night and said that something important came up and we needed to meet face-to-face at the Diner on Causeway Avenue tonight at 11:00 PM. Dante understood where I stood on my reasons for stepping away from the life, but at the same time, I knew that he wouldn’t call me unless it was serious.

So, like a sap, I went.

Six hours earlier, I found myself walking through the glass doors of the slightly rusty stainless steel converted dining car from the 1930’s that’s affectionately called “The Causeway Diner” by the regulars, feeling a rush of nostalgia. Dante, Avi, Mark, Pierre and me all stuffed into a booth seat close to the window, talking about the work that we’d got done that the Majors felt too big to get dirty with; taking down violent gangs, stopping muggers and breaking up drug cartels… those were the days.

“Yo, Erin! Over here, man!” came Dante’s booming voice from the far side of the Diner, motioning me to walk past the smooth, stainless steel counters on my left to his booth. Three guys I didn’t recognize were sitting with to him: two on the other side of the booth, and one sitting on a chair at the end of the booth.

I walked past the regulars sitting at the counters and sat next to Dante, looking at the two guys sitting across from us and another guy sitting in a regular table chair at the end of the table. Dante pointed to the guys sitting across from him, “This is Epsilon and his twin brother Sigma.” Pointing to the guy at the end of the table, the dude put his hand up and said, “Solid. I’m a big fan of your work in the old neighborhood, man.”

“Okay, now that the pleasantries are out of the way, what’s up, D? I don’t get many calls to come out of retirement these days… so what’s the big deal?” The twins looked at each other nervously, looking towards Solid, who put his hand up, motioning for the two to calm down.

Solid was the first to speak, “We got a problem, sir. There’s been a rash of attacks on, well… people like us. Mark and Pierre are in the hospital…” Looking at Dante, I said, “Mark and Pierre are always being put in the hospital, D… and certain people have always tried to set us up or attack us in the past. Is this the big deal?!” Dante was fighting back tears; looking at me through glassy eyes… this must be bad. Dante never gets emotional… ever.

“E… Avi’s in the hospital too, man... he’s in a fuckin’ coma.” He turned his head, looking out the window so I couldn’t see his face. He always was afraid of looking weak in front of the new kids, but this was different. Avi was the biggest gun the crew had besides me. What’s more, Avi’s an immortal… he spontaneously regenerates so quickly that if he had his head punched off his shoulders, he’d have re-grown a full head inside of fifteen seconds, and be back on our opponent instantly, peppering him with devastating blows.

Avi… in a fuckin’ coma? That’s fuckin’ impossible… not now, not ever. Not even the Majors fucked with Avi… they knew what was up, and they kept their distance from us out of their respect and fear of him.

I felt my frustration bubbling to the surface, shouting, “What happened, Dante?! Who did this to the crew? No one’s ever been able to stop Avi in the past, and that includes the 600 years that he’s wandered the fucking earth! Who’s responsible for all this?”

Dante slowly reached over to the napkin holder, pulling out a single napkin, writing one word on it, folding the napkin and sliding it over to me. The word surprised me.

“Kid.”

I thought about that name for a couple of minutes.

“My own apprentice did this?” I thought to myself as I looked over at Dante, who silently nodded to me.

“The Kid did this, D? How is that possible? He wasn’t even powerful enough to defend himself in the fights we got into, let alone take you all out at once… how is this possible?” Dante dabbed his eyes with his napkin.

“He ain’t the same cat he once was, sir,” Solid said, “Word on the street is, son went to a ‘works shop on the lower East end and got upgrades. Upgrades that cost more money then he could’ve possibly afforded on his own… you know what I’m sayin’?”

I found myself feeling the slow creep of horror as I rested my forehead in the palms of my hands… my young former partner had become a superhuman mercenary? Then I noticed that Epsilon was staring at me. I looked at him as I thought, “Are you listening to me?” He nodded. “Why?” I asked. A kind look washed over his face as he responded, “You feel guilt for this, don’t you? The Kid became what he is on his own… he made his own choices… he had options, and instead chose the most drastic route. We offered him membership, a family… and instead of accepting our offer, he shunned us. He became what he was meant to become, sir… some day he may come back to us, but for now, we need to stop him before he actually kills a normal. That’s the important thing. Save your guilt and pain for when it can help you… right now, it’ll do nothing but hinder you.”

I nodded to him, finding a great deal of wisdom in what he said, and decided to accept his advice.

“Epsilon, I need to ask you a favor,” I thought, “I want you to be my advisor.” The same pleasant and warm look appeared on his face as he responded, “It’d be an honor, sir.”

Leaning towards me, Solid touched my forearm, “Sir, this is a big deal. How many of us did the Kid deal with on the street before you retired?” Leaning back against the cold, Red vinyl cushions, I thought back, responding with, “Six years before I quit, the Kid worked with me, so I could easily say around 90% of the Street Heroes… and probably 10% or so of the Majors. Ah, Fuck!” I looked to Dante, “Remember the Protocols?” I asked.

Dante’s Brown eyes widened, “Please, tell me you didn’t teach him that, E…” Sigma sat up straight, asking, “What are the Protocols?” Epsilon’s face echoed his brother’s question, but only with a look.

I rubbed my forehead… feeling a headache coming on, “The Protocols,” I began, “are a series of studies into the weaknesses and strengths of all the Heroes that I’ve encountered since my tour in the city started over twenty years ago. Everyone from Pan and Nymph to Monolith and Dante here has been evaluated for the flaws that could bring them down in case they went bad. I made the Kid memorize them in order to help him deal with Villains with similar powers on the streets with The Crew. Fuck, it never occurred to me that he would go off the reservation and go Rogue on us. But…”

“But what, E?” Dante asked anxiously.

“But… I never did a work-up on Avi, Dante. I think the Kid took my files and continued the study. It’s the only explanation to all the attacks. None of you have been killed yet, have you?” I asked urgently.

Epsilon looked at each of the guys in turn, and they each shrugged. He then turned his gaze towards me, “Sir, none of the guys have any memory of a Street Hero that’s been killed lately, if at all, in the last Five years, but they do have a lot of memories of a variety of Villains that were roughly the same height and build that handily defeated them and never followed through with killing them. Is it possible that the Kid was responsible for these attacks?” I tried to recall the training I gave him, and I remember telling him that in order to truly know the limits of a friend or enemy, you must fight them first… that’s probably what he’s been up to. I nodded towards Epsilon, who nodded back in acknowledgement.

“I need to think about what we need to do about the Kid, guys, but at the same time I need to find out something important about myself before we move this to the next level…” Sigma asked, “What’s that, sir?” Leaning back once more against the seat, I said, “I need to find out if I have the guts for this shit anymore.” Looking over at Dante, I put my hand on his shoulder and nodded to him, “I’ll be in touch, man… keep your celly on.” Standing up from the booth seat and turning to the other guys, “Epsilon, Sigma? Thanks for the info. Solid? I’ll stop by to let you know what’s up, alright?”

They each stood up and shook my hand as I walked out of the Diner. On the way home, I started thinking about the cause of my retirement: Jimani.

Jimani was a massive Persian superhuman from Iran. He had so many powers under his belt, we didn’t even know the entirety of what he was capable of, but one night, five and a half years ago, we found out. Me and The Crew got a call from Sgt. Amani, an honest beat cop from the 57th Precinct that we’d known for a couple of years, who told us that Jimani was on the rampage, and had a contingent of eight Officers pinned down. Using Telekinesis, he was continuously pelting their cars with bricks from a nearby building. He said that their cars were rendered useless after 40 seconds, and their radios were down.

Apparently he kept shouting, “Bring the Loser Crew out here! Those cowards have enough time on their hands, get them the fuck over here!” at the top of his lungs, and that prompted Sgt. Amani to give us a call. Can’t blame him, though. After all, if I found out that the source of my troubles could easily be rectified if I called the right person, I’d be all over that shit like a fat kid on a box of Krispy Kremes.

It took us a couple of minutes to get there by the rooftops, and when we got there, we saw the extent of the damage that Jimani had caused was far worse than we expected. Jimani always was a bit of a sociopathic asshole, but this was incredibly bad, even for him. The cops were huddled behind their overturned squad cars, wincing with the impact of each brick, all the while, Jimani laughed and mocked them. Avi leaned over to me, saying, “Agent, this piece of shit needs to be taken out. Dante, Pierre and Mark will cover him on the right, with you and me getting his left.” The Kid spoke up then, asking, “Hey, what about me, Avi? I wanna help out here too!” Avi turned to him, “Kid, look at this fuckin’ place! It’s a goddamn war zone down there! If you were older, we’d love to have you help us out, but eight men are down there right now fearing for their lives! Sit here and keep an eye out for a possible accomplice of Jimani. He may not be working alone here, you understand?”

With a resigned sigh, the Kid said, “Well, I guess you would know what to do, Avi, being 600 years old and all…” Avi put his hand on the Kid’s shoulder, “Kid, you have great potential to be a champion for mankind, but this isn’t something we’ve trained you for, yet… let us handle this, okay?” The Kid nodded and crouched near the edge of the roof, looking out in case Jimani noticed us.

He gave us the thumbs-up.

Dante quietly nodded back, shifting into his Lizard-Prime form, a seven-foot-tall combination of a human and lizard, covered in shining Black scales with a diamond pattern of Silver scales that went from his brow to the tip of his tail. Avi took off his coat and shirt; quickly folding them to avoid any wrinkles… he always was a little anal like that. Mark pulled his grey balaclava mask over his face and winked at the Kid. Pierre sat down, folded his legs and began meditating. Soon his glowing, blue-hewed astral projection floated quietly above him and spoke directly to our minds, “Are you ready, Agent? This is going to get nasty quick, if the chatter floating around the Astral Plane is any indication of facts in this world.”

Nodding, I pulled my lower facemask over my nose and chin, pulling my red leather hood over the top of my head. Seeing this, Mark and Pierre floated over to the roof across the street, with Dante leaping the forty-foot gap between the buildings to join them. I still find it impressive what these guys are capable of from time to time. Avi patted me three times on the top of my head; a reference to the action he saw as a Bazooka operator in WW II, letting me know that it was time.

Avi used his red laser pointer, blinking it three times to let the others that we’d be jumping in three seconds. Avi and me walked to the edge of the roof, slowly counting out loud, “Three… Two… One!”

With that, we sailed over the edge headfirst. At the last second, we flipped, landing feet first. The concrete buckled as we landed, leaving six-inch deep craters five feet across. Mark and Pierre floated up through the sewer systems, settling on the street behind Jimani as Dante crawled rapidly down the Tenement building’s brick walls to join them.

Mark tapped Jimani on the back of his right shoulder, “What’s up, Jimani? Not enough shit to keep yourself occupied, or what? I know us infidels are really important targets to you, and that we have a Jewish immortal on our team, but why all the name calling?”

Jimani swung his massive arm around, attempting to connect with Mark, but instead he passed through his body. I guess there are advantages to being an intangible ghost after all. Mark just laughed. Jimani grabbed the closest cop car, swinging it over his head, slamming it over Mark’s head in frustration. As before, the car connected only with air as Mark slid through the pavement below, to give Jimani the sense that he had accomplished something.

As the Persian roared with laughter, Mark floated up behind him and just stood there.

“Hey, DICKHEAD!” Mark shouted with his arms crossed, “If you didn’t fuckin’ get it yet, my name is ‘Ghost’ for a reason. I don’t care if your wife is sick of your two-inch penis, and I know that a muscle-bound dipshit like yourself doesn’t pick up on the obvious, but for fuck’s sake, you’re endangering the lives of hundreds of innocent people because you’re chemically unbalanced! Is any of this shit sinking in?!” Jimani, all the while, continued to swing and miss Mark, screaming, “Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!”

Dante went on the offensive, leaping onto Jimani’s eight-foot tall back, viciously clawing at him in an attempt to slow him down until Jimani quickly reached over his back and grabbed him by the head, slinging his body into an over tipped Police car twenty feet away. Avi and I jumped at him next, with Jimani responding with fire-breath, coating Avi in a Napalm-like jelly that had him writhing in agony as I pounded his face with all my strength.

I’ve always hated it when the energy-projectors attacked Avi with extreme heat, since the smell of cooking flesh and skin always makes me want to wretch. Sure, we all know that he’d survive, but the idea of all that pain tends to turn one’s stomach, you know?

Jimani backhanded me into the same car that Dante laid limp against. The impact felt like I broke every rib I had, but I knew that I didn’t. I dragged Dante’s body quickly around the hood to the unexposed side to protect him until he recovered from his injuries. Private Zayas, a Puerto Rican Officer from my old beat, asked if he was alright, and I told him, “Don’t worry about it, Private… we’re all over it. Just make sure that nobody else gets hit, alright?” Zayas promised that he’d keep an eye open for me. It was at that moment that I saw Mark fly over the hood behind me and land in a pile of trash twenty feet away, rendered unconscious.

Looking at Zayas, I responded with, “Ah, fuck…”

Peeking around the bumper, I caught a glimpse of Avi’s flaming body leaping on Jimani’s back and delivering devastating blows to Jimani’s right cheek and jaw, causing him to stumble backwards. Seeing an opening, I slapped Zayas on the leg, bounding over the hood, aiming for the giant Iranian’s chest.

Running at full speed, I caught Jimani’s eye, and for the first time in my many encounters with him, I saw fear… I was moving faster that I thought I was capable of, as my arms all the way up to my biceps ended up embedded in his stomach and lower chest… all the way in. I was trapped, and as Jimani screamed and fell backwards, his massive frame caused the street to buckle as he fell backwards through the street, with both of us falling into the sewers beneath. The impact was tooth-rattling… but luckily I ended up on top as we hit the floor ten feet below.

In the dim light I saw the glint of his eyes as he looked up at me, shaking and shocked, blood pouring out of his mouth. “Agent…” he coughed, “finish it… I’ve always wanted to die by a true soldier’s hand… and I’ve finally found you…” He grabbed my hands and put them on his neck, “This is the end for me, my friend… you remember Islamabad, don’t you? You granted my brother the honor of a warrior’s death… do me the same courtesy.”

Looking into his eyes, I saw his brother, an inexperienced mujihadeen, lacking any powers… riddled with shrapnel from his own suicide bomb, choking on his own blood, as I snapped his neck. Kneeling next to his broken body, covered in my opponents blood, I pulled back my hood and yanked my face mask down as my eyes stung with tears… it had been years since I’d taken a life, even a life as detestable as Jimani’s, but it never gets easier.

From the hole in the street, Avi, still half engulfed in flames, shouted, “Hey, Agent! What’s Jimani’s status?!” As I looked up, he saw my face and simply said, “Oh…” as he jumped down and splashed the sewer water to put out the fires on his body and put his hand on my shoulder.
“He was a monster, Erin… look at all the damage that he did. You saved hundreds of people this night…” I smacked his hand away in anger, screaming, “He was a fucking human being, Avi! Look at him! He has organs, blood and a past!” Staggering down the tunnel, I shouted, “I’m done, Avi! I’m fucking done! I’ve had enough of death!”


Avi called after me from the shadows, but I kept walking… I didn’t care.