The Agency: Night Owl
Part 1 of 6
Luther sat there, listening to the crackling of the fire, swishing his shot of whiskey back and forth, his other hand resting on his forehead, his fingertips spread out indenting against his skull. His thoughts dwelled on the upcoming vote, spiraling towards his deepest regrets, he chugged his glass to flush away the guilt. The low glow of the fire illuminated his shame, the sound of his foot tapping nervously filled the room, as if trying to escape the situation he found himself in. He poured himself another glass with a slight tremble rattling his hand,
Luther:
“Fuck”
he muttered under his breath.
Stranger:
“Hello Luther.”
Luther heard from behind him, he instantly shot up, whipping around to face the unknown voice, nearly choking on his spit as he did so.
Luther:
“Who the fuck? G—get the hell out—“
The intruder delivered a single swift strike to his throat. He stumbled back, reaching for anything he could to maintain his balance, collapsing to the floor and knocking over his chair and whiskey in the process. His mouth dried out as he pondered the possibility these could be his final breaths. He looked up at the shadowy figure just standing there, making no further effort to approach him. The stranger was shrouded in a cloak, his head engulfed in a hood, he could see the faint outline of a strange type of device somewhat resembling glasses on his face.
“I’ll—I’m going to call—the police!”
He spoke between coughs, but the intruder ignored him.
Stranger:
“You’re going to pass the release of those files senator. You’re the final vote—“
Luther’s eyes darted between the stranger to his phone still sitting on the table, Luther lunged for it, but a claw extended from atop of some sort of glove and smashed the phone to pieces before Luther could reach it. Luther jerked backwards, scrambling back on all fours while letting out a pathetic yelp, terrified of what may happen next. The intruder’s hood now rested around his neck, coming undone in his surge of aggression. His eyes were covered in a contraption of lenses, with a pair even perched behind his head. The intruder continued,
Stranger:
“I’ve seen those files, the experiments a government funded agency have been conducting…they’re—“ He struggled to continue for a moment, “You will vote to declassify those files tomorrow.”
Luther:
“Who—who are you?”
he asked desperate for some semblance of understanding, he had never seen a superhero like this stranger.
“Typically, your type tries not to break the laws such as assaulting someone in my—.”
he said almost as an insult before he was cut off.
Stranger:
“Night Owl…and I’m no hero.”
Luther:
“Night Owl..?”
He whispered back to himself. Night Owl took a step forward, brandishing his claw, the three blades each half a foot in length.
Night Owl:
“You’re going to pass the release, right senator? The president will follow suit, he campaigned on transparency and there’s too much pressure currently on him to delay any further.”
Luther’s demeanor somehow became even more panicked, sweat beading down his face.
Luther:
“You—you don’t understand, these people—The D.O.G.E.C.—“
He gulped.
“The people behind this, they—they can’t be—“
Night Owl:
“It’s going to pass, right senator?”
He interrupts him, taking another step closer, his hand twitching, the claw catches the light of the flames as it happens.
Luther:
“Y—yes, yes of course, I’ll pass it I swear, please…please, I’ll—I’ll do it just don’t kill me.”
He finally gave in, even if it was an empty promise, his will and voice equally shaken. “But..they’ll—they’ll come after me you know, they won’t like this..” He trailed off, considering the consequences of his choices.
Night Owl:
“They’re next.”
He rebutted, he turned to leave at a brisk pace, rounding the corner almost instantly as the blades on his wrist retracted along his arm.
Luther:
“W—what?”
He gathered himself, rushing to his feet to follow behind him, but he made sure to keep his distance. As he stalked behind him, he noticed how silent Night Owl was, completely imperceptible in motion.
Night Owl:
“You better keep your word or I will find you, understood?”
Luther:
“Yeah—yeah.”
He quietly reached for an umbrella leaned against the hallway, the first thing he saw that he could use as a weapon, he kept his eyes on Night Owl’s back the entire time. Without warning, the lenses attached to Night Owl’s head reconfigured,
Night Owl:
“I wouldn’t.”
He spoke in an angered tone, Luther froze temporarily before pulling back his hand and decided he shouldn’t test his luck any further. Just before reaching the door, he stopped suddenly, shifting his head to listen more intently.
Luther:
“W—what is it?”
He asked.
Night Owl:
“Were you expecting any company?”
Luther:
“N—No.”
He answered confused.
Night Owl:
“Get down!”
He pounced on Luther, his arms extended, ensuring his cloak covered Luther completely.
Luther:
“Aggh”
He yelped in surprise as they both landed on the floor. In an instant, the front door was blown to smithereens, a man dressed in a leather jacket and washed jeans stepped over the remaining piece of wood still attached to the hinges, holding a sawed-off double-barrel shotgun with a devilish grin. Night Owl stood up quickly, facing the new intruder in a defensive stance, both claws now extended and at the ready.
Intruder:
“You ain’t that fuckin’ senator, you kill him already?”
He asked, but after closer inspection could see Luther peeking from behind Night Owl’s cloak.
“You his bodyguard or somethin’? You know this piece of shit is the last vote they need to pass the release of those damned files and he ain’t gonna do it? Yeah, so I thought I’d watch his head explode and then let my little friend here eat his corpse.”
A tongue emerged from in between the barrel and two ethereal red eyes glimmered momentarily above it before dissipating.
Luther:
“I’LL PASS THE FUCKING RELEASE THROUGH!”
He screamed from behind Night Owl.
Night Owl:
“I got him to agree to releasing them.”
He added.
Intruder:
“Oh.”
He paused for a moment before continuing,
“Well, shit I coulda done that!”
He chuckled,
“You hear that boy? No dinner tonight.”
He declared to his shotgun, its grin morphing into a frown as it whimpered.
Shotgun:
“Me hungry!”
It exclaimed dissatisfied.
Night Owl:
“So…you won’t kill him?”
He loosened up his posture.
Intruder:
“Nah the fucker gets to live another day.”
He winked at Luther, as Luther shuddered in return.
Night Owl:
“Not the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.”
He said while passing by the stranger.
Intruder:
“Sorry about your door bud! You’re still a piece of shit though so you kinda deserved it and if you don’t pass that vote I will come back and kill you, really badly, like, super turbo violent shit okay?”
He holstered his shotgun,
“I’m The Zombie by the way”
He introduced himself to Night Owl as he exited through the open door.
Night Owl:
“I don’t care.”
He replied.
“My business here is done.”
The Zombie:
“Well that’s fucking rude!”
He ran after him.
Night Owl:
“That’s a stupid name anyway.”
He said as he continued along his way.
The Zombie:
“Hey, I’m not the one dressed like I’m going to Comic-Con you fucking dork. You owe Sparky a meal now.”
Night Owl:
“Who?”
The Zombie:
“Sparky! My shotgun, well not really my shotgun, there’s a demon trapped inside of it.”
Night Owl:
“Please get away from me.”
Their banter steadily got softer and more muffled as they got further away.
Luther:
“Fucking hell.”
He dusted himself off as he rose back to his feet, trying to come to terms with what just happened. The realization of what was yet to come settled in. The next day, the vote to declassify the documents regarding illegal experimentation performed by The D.O.G.E.C. was narrowly passed by one deciding vote.
Two nights later:
The director of the D.O.G.E.C. was pacing his office on the twelfth floor, his 6’6” frame towered over his assistant. His stature alone could command a room, but his confident demeanor and his powerful voice complimented it well.
The Director:
“Sydney.”
Sydney:
“Yes director?”
She straightened her frame, her eyes fixed forward maintaining eye contact, arms glued to her sides.
The Director:
“Have Sabre bring me Luther; I want to know who flipped him.”
He stopped his pacing.
“We’ll use our ‘ghosts’ to handle this little problem.”
Sydney:
“Yes—yes sir.”
Her eyes widened at the mention of Operation: Ghost. She left hastily, smoothing down her long pencil skirt as she exited. The director took a seat back at his desk, the chair creaked wildly as he leaned back, brooding for a moment, unsure of where to look.
Delilah:
“Daddy?”
A small girl called from afar, stiffly swinging her legs in her chair.
The Director:
“Yes Delilah?”
His eyes shifted immediately, focusing on her, his booming voice temporarily softened.
Delilah:
“Do I get to play yet? I really want to.”
The Director:
“That’s not necessary sweetie, it’s just a bug that needs to be squashed, nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”
He assured her.
“I won’t let anyone get in my way.”
He slammed his fist the size of a sledgehammer head onto his desk.
“ANYONE!”
Delilah:
“No fair! I never get to play!”
Delilah pouted, briefly slumping her small chin into her hands. She then crossed her arms, jumping up and stomping in a tantrum, the room vibrated from the force of her outburst.
Elsewhere:
Sylvia:
“Make it quick, the whole Agency is on high alert right now.”
A tall slender woman leaned against the door crossing her arms, a concussion rifle dangled on her back, half concealed from her long black hair. The wind from the high altitude of the rooftop accentuated her curls.
Night Owl:
“I just wanted to thank you Sylvia, the horrible things the D.O.G.E.C. has done will soon come to the light.”
Sylvia:
“Yeah, I hope it was worth getting yourself killed. You won’t survive on your own.”
She said bluntly, but there was a twinge of concern in her voice.
“I told you this was the last favor I’d do for you. After this stunt, they’re bound to know there’s a mole. I took a huge risk giving you that file.”
Night Owl:
“You did what you should have done long ago…besides, I’m not alone.”
He said, unbothered by her worry.
Sylvia:
“Really? Someone likes you?”
She tilted her head seemingly surprised.
Night Owl:
“I met someone.”
He shrugged while rolling his eyes, mildly annoyed by her comment.
Roughly fifteen years ago:
The Zombie burst through the door, he heard rumors of a trafficking ring in the area.
The Zombie:
“Alright! Where are the girls?”
His hand clasped around the handle of his katana.
“I won’t ask aga—“
He was interrupted by a volley of bullets, his torso and limbs riddled with lead. A single bullet entered his eye socket and exited out of the back of his skull, splattering his blood on the walls. His body collapsed to the floor, the room began to settle again after a few seconds of shells hitting the floor and chatter amongst the men.
Thug:
“Who tha fuck was that?”
Yelled one of the thugs.
The Zombie:
“Well that fucking hurt!”
He sat up like the Undertaker, slugs left the fresh holes in his body, his wounds sealed themselves as he got back to his feet.
Night Owl (Present):
“He can’t die.”
He excitingly revealed to Sylvia.
Sylvia:
“I could see how that could be useful.”
She smirked.
The flashback continues:
The Zombie sprinted at them while some struggled to reload, slicing through them like paper mâché. As he stormed through the gunfire from one criminal to the next, chunks of flesh were blown from his body, but he was an unstoppable force. Blood, skin and bones dragged behind him, reattaching to him as he trekked on, driving his sword through every scumbag without discrimination. As he reached the back of the bar, one final combatant emerged from an ominous looking door with a bloodied dagger in his hand. The Zombie didn’t bother blocking as they clashed, he didn’t need to, both men stood there, their weapons impaled into one another.
The Zombie:
“Don’t worry, I’ll be the one to feel that in the morning.”
He said while slowly removing his katana from the man’s gut. He pulled the dagger from his own
“Hope I don’t get Aids.”
He headed through the door, down into the basement in four hurried leaps. He gasped, perplexed by what he saw when he reached the bottom of the stairs.
“What the—?”
Five half-naked, lifeless women lay amid a pentagon with a shotgun in the center.
Night Owl (Present):
“His shotgun has a demon inside of it too. Still don’t quite understand that one.”
He said, still unsure if he believed it himself.
Sylvia:
“Oh, is that right? Of course it does.”
She paused for a moment before snickering.
“You know how ridiculous that sounds right?”
Night Owl:
“Well, seeing as how his shotgun smiled at me it makes sense.”
His face twitched, slightly offended.
Sylvia:
“None of this makes any sense. What are we even—”
She scoffed while she opened the door to make her exit, stopping halfway, resting her hand in the doorframe.
“You really think you can do this don’t you? Stopping the D.O.G.E.C., even when the ones with powers haven’t been able to?”
Night Owl:
“No. I don’t, but if I didn’t give it my all, who would? The supes see a “big bad” destroying the city and risk their lives saving us, it’s commendable, it really is, but what about the ones behind the scenes? The ones that fly under the radar, pulling the strings and using taxpayer money to do it all? Shit, their main goal is to rid the world of genetically enhanced individuals, and they aren’t doing shit to stop it, why? Because it wouldn’t be politically correct?”
Sylvia:
“You know there hasn’t been any solid evidence released yet.”
She said in a half-hearted defense.
Night Owl:
“Yeah well, now they’ll be forced to, but we all knew it. That’s the problem with doing things by the book, sometimes the bad guys need a foot on their neck, someone that isn’t afraid to get their hands dirty and put some real god forsaken pressure on them. The shit you’ve shown me…it’s disgusting what they’ve done to advance their technology.”
Sylvia:
“We’ve only scratched the surface.”
She wrapped her arms around herself clutching her sides.
Night Owl:
“I know.”
He moved to the edge of the rooftop.
“I’m not sure we can actually do this, in fact I’m sure we’ll probably die trying, but we have to. It’s the right thing to do.”
She silently nodded.
Sylvia:
“I’ll contact you when I know their next move.”
Night Owl:
“I thought you were done with favors?”
He raised his eyebrow.
Sylvia:
“Last one, okay? Something about you…gives me hope.”
She laughed. Night Owl nodded, a small grin spread across his face, he dropped to the dark city below, stretching his arms to expand his cloak as he gently glided down into a dark alley way, blending into the ambiance of a broken city.
“Idiot.”
She shook her head as she descended down the staircase.
“Guess that makes me an idiot too then.”