Danger Kid

Chapter 23

I'm back on my apartment, no other place to go after Smith's devastating revelation. Tonight, I have planned out the perfect pity party. I'm situated in front of the TV, which I currently have playing, what else, an old cheesy action movie. The TV's glow illuminates the otherwise dark and empty apartment. That's the first part of my party.

My body has cast itself upon the couch, my legs spread eagle, one hanging over the back of the couch. My jaw hangs slackly open. That's part two of the party.

I am shirtless, and I have one arm wrapped possessively around a bag of marshmallow cereal. Between me and the couch is a coffee table. On top of it is a large salad bowl, and beside it is a garbage can. One by one I sort through the bag of cereal, throwing the gross crunchy bits into the trash. The marshmallows, however, I toss to the bowl. They are to be eaten later, part three of my party. The bowl is already two thirds full. My aim is good; I've only missed a few times.

Occasionally I moan loudly into my abandoned apartment. However, even my moans are half-hearted. I'm in a bad place, isn't it obvious.

Ugh... I'm thirsty. I get up, meandering to the fridge, scratching my butt. It's full of soda and juice. (The fridge, not buy butt... duh.) I choose the brownest, bubbliest looking beverage possible. I pop it open, chugging several liters down in a matter of moments. I finish, awaiting the burp. Eventually it comes, but it's dismal, hardly loud at all. Even my burps aren't turning out right. I sigh.

Going back to the TV, I begin to sort my cereal again.

My BEAD vibrates within my pocket. I realize it's been hours since Brayan and the rest left to bring in Tag. Could it be one of them, informing me that the mission is already over?

It buzzes again, and that in itself is weird. The second buzz shows that it is a phone call, not a message. Nobody I know ever calls, because that's totally lame. Unless, of course, the call is about something important. Or urgent.

My BEAD buzzes a third time, and I struggle to pull it out of my pocket. I try twisting my body out of its slumped position, but eventually stand, the only position in which I can access my pocket comfortably.

The projector from the eye shows that the call is from Brayan.

"Speaker." I command, and the bead connects me to the call.

"Help, we need..." says Brayan's voice. His voice is panty and desperate. I've never heard him have this tone before. I listen attentively to hear if there is more to the message.

"Brayan?" I demand, "Brayan!"

No answer, except for a static burst and silence. My BEAD hangs up, informing me the other line has gone inactive.

Even without a life time of movie watching experience, I'd know this is a very bad sign. Screw my state of self-pity, and screw Gauntlet. Brayan, and more importantly, probably Amber, need my help.

I search the kitchen, and finally, on a high shelf, find a set of keys. I don't know which of Brayan's various vehicles it goes to, but I quickly find myself in the apartment complex's garage, searching. I try the key in sports vehicles and small jeeps. No luck. Finally I come upon the two motorcycles. Why the heck would anyone need two motorcycles?

It fits the sleek black one. Hopping on board, I hope suddenly that a motorcycle isn't too much different than a car to steer. With a twist of the ignition, the motorcycle rumbles to life, and I'm off.

---

It takes me a little over an hour to arrive. I consider how foolish it was of Tag to build his illegal laboratory/plant/hidey hole so close to Gauntlet headquarters. Maybe he was abiding to that ridiculous old movie trope that the last place your enemy would look was in his own home. Or maybe he could only find one place that suited his manufacturing needs. Anyways, the short travel distance will be to my advantage.