" Wassup Mr. R" says the the shirtless man sitting on the table whilst blowing out a puff of smoke and flicking a cigarette to the ground.
"Insolent worm, I told you and your pitiful band of misfits to converge on the extremist base of operations!" Yells the commander, obviously still enraged with the incompetence of his men and the cocky man on his table who just flicked a lit cigarette onto his linoleum floor was not helping either.
"Don't getcha' panties in a twist, Rourke, the rest of the DS-OPS are away working a job." Explains the man on the counter. "but don't worry I stayed because your too much of a wimp to get stuff done yourself."
"now you listen here maggot! I am the leader of this operation and I will not take that from anyo-"
"Whoa now, tone it down sour-puss, you may have the power here, but you seem to forget the one with power-power he cracks his wrist and a blaze of fire envelops his clenching fist, "now you remember our deal, right?" Rourke gulps while nodding his head. "Good boy, now you better follow through on your part, unless you want to end up like that." He cooed while pointing at the mangled yet still breathing body of a soldier. Rourke nods again. "Good, now I'll be on my way to get these big scary deviant terrorists you seem to be so afraid of.
"Th-Thank you Mr.Law." Stutterers Rourke.
"And your very welcome, oh, and just call me Blaine," he starts humming the James bond theme and looks back at Rourke, "Blaine Law." He winks at the commander and leaves the room in a orderly fashion
YOU ARE READING
Deviant
ActionWhen 16 year old, Caz wakes up in a crater in the ruined mass of steel that used to be New York, with the only trace of an identity lying on the dog-tags on his chest, he is thrust into a world of loss, death, courage and hidden talents. Can he over...
