Shannon is an Agent of the Immortal Search Division. Her mission is to verify that Ben is War, one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, and convince him to give up his recently adopted pacifist ways and take up the mantle of his office again. She...
Nodding was all Shannon could manage as her heart pounded. Ben loomed over her. She was frozen by his glare as if she were a rabbit and he, a wolf.
His face reddened. "You know, don't you? Who I am?"
She hesitated a fraction of a second before nodding again.
"And this lunch? It was to try and recruit me?"
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. It took two tries before she croaked, "It started that way."
"And now?"
"I want to get to know you for you. But... I also can't abandon my mission."
He stared for a couple of heartbeats more before turning on his heel and heading for the door.
She scrambled to go after him, "Ben! Wait!" She grabbed her purse and coat, thrusting her arms into the sleeves as she hurried to catch up.
The crowd outside seemed to part for him, and he strode through unhindered. The people closed behind him, and she struggled against the flow after him. At last, she was free of the throng and running. He turned a corner ahead, and she barreled around it only to find he had disappeared.
"Ben!" she called. "Please! Hear me out!" she shouted, catching the attention of people on the street, but not the person she wanted.
She collapsed against the wall, defeated. Tonya came trotting down the sidewalk.
"I saw what happened," her friend said. "He knows, doesn't he?"
"Yeah." Shannon stifled a sob. "What am I going to do?"
"Well, first, you're going to calm down, then we'll sit and talk about options." She gestured, asking Shannon to follow. "Come on back to the deli. We have people to question, and you two didn't pay your bill."
Shannon sniffled and dug in her purse for a tissue packet, which she finally found at the bottom, of course. "Okay, yeah, having something to do would be good."
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"Do you want to explain what happened yesterday, Agent?" the Director said. She'd been dreading the dressing down since the previous afternoon. She felt weary; she had tossed and turned all night, and her morning coffee wasn't taking up the slack.
He hadn't indicated Shannon should sit, and so she didn't. Instead, she stood in front of his desk, trying to avoid his eyes. She took a breath and told him in as few words as possible.
"When the altercation happened, I automatically called dispatch, identifying myself. Ben overheard and then deduced I knew he was War."
The Director leaned back in his chair in his evil villain pose, quiet. It was clear she was in trouble when he sat still longer than expected; he wasn't the kind of person to rant and rave. Instead, he was much more likely to stare at her in judgemental disappointment. It was unnerving and only fueled her anxiety. Her pulse raced and she resisted the impulse to wipe her clammy palms on her pants. Half a dozen things to say to fill the silence, none of which would ultimately help her case. In the end, she swallowed, shifted her weight, and did the only thing she could: she waited.
