Loki & Dutch

Gunslinger

Loki Ayson sat in a cold steel chair that never felt comfortable no matter how much he shifted in his seat. One single glaring light hung in the center of the room that had burned his eyes at first but he had slightly adjusted over the hour he had been sitting there. The room itself was a small gray room with one single large mirror in front of him. He knew better though, that was one way glass. The people on the other side could see him easily enough. That’s how it always worked, either like this or through messengers. No council member would ever dare show their face to anyone else, and when they did, it was through a mask and a very powerful voice changer.

Loki drummed his fingers on his lap and looked around, trying his hardest to look anywhere except for the mirror, he always felt uneasy in these types of meetings. He had only ever been in two before this one. Once for his entrance exam and once for his promotion assignment, which he had faced with no problem at all. He raised a hand to his collar, which seemed to be choking him no matter how loose he made it, he loosened it just a bit. He still needed to look good, even if it was to be prosecuted for the manslaughter of another NAA agent. It was an accident of course but the other team who was with him had spoken out against him so it was two against one, bullshit, but that’s how it works sometimes. Contrary to popular belief, being a NAA agent is not all action and glory. It’s about a quarter action, and the rest is either training for the next action or stupid politics.

Those same politics worked in the ranking system of the NAA. The NAA needs lower and higher ranked people to keep the systems balanced. The only way to get promoted is if someone moves up in the world or if someone dies, or gets fired. Sometimes they got literally fired, by a flamethrower. Poor guy could be heard screaming through the whole damn facility. Thank god they don’t do it as much as they used to. The other team, Slicer and Jackson had testified against him to help secure their position, Loki’s position.

“We have come to an agreement Mr. Ayson.” A deep scratchy voice rang from a speaker in the room that Loki couldn’t see. That voice, like Loki suspected it would be, was heavily altered with voice effects.

Loki didn’t reply, instead he just nodded. It was a gesture born out a combination of fear and respect. Those two things went hand in hand most of the time.

“You will be brought back down to a single star rank, you will be asked to return all of your weaponry that is suited to a two star agent back down to the armoury. You will also be under a two week suspension.” The voice said in finality. “Dismissed.”

Loki got up without a word, his legs had fallen asleep and he felt pins and needles as he walked towards the door that was opposite of the large mirror. He closed the door behind him quickly and leaned his back against it. He let out a heavy sigh and ran a single, long fingered hand through his long hair.

“Got off easy huh?” He said to himself sadly.

It had taken Loki around two years to get his license upgraded to two stars, when he finally did it he was allowed to take a lot of new weaponry from the armoury and he was given better missions. Now he was right back to square one, with nothing but his sidearm and a little bit of Kevlar armour. Loki thrust one hand into his back pocket and produced his brown leather wallet. He flipped it open and looked at the plastic area where a driver’s licence would normally go, instead he had his NAA card. This card would be revoked and he would have to go get his new one from Jarvis, he hated going to Jarvis. Jarvis was a condescending retired assassin who would always brag about the ‘good old days when killers used their hands, not guns.’ Loki hated the way that Jarvis would eye the gun on Loki’s belt with disapproval.

‘Guns are for men who can’t throw a punch.’ He would always say.

Loki let out another sigh and put away his wallet without the card in it, and instead he put the card into his front shirt pocket and made sure it was secure. He had a bad habit of losing his licence thanks to lost shirts, if a mission went in a certain direction, he didn’t even bother trying to clean the shirt. He would just throw it out, it was easier than trying to explain to the drycleaners why there was always bloody shirts being sent in.