Octagon Project 3: Zachary McHall

~-27-~

As Zack returned to the house, he found it empty and rushed to take a shower to clean himself of the blood and black char that covered his body. Letting the hot water run over his body, he sat down in the tub with the pair of tweezers he had taken from his room and began to remove the bullets one by one. Not even bothering to count, Zack removed the last one that he could reach and stood up again. Rinsing himself of the shampoo still in his hair and turning off the water, he stepped out and began to dry himself off. After drying his hair - leaving it in a spiky, fluffy mess - he wrapped the deep blue towel around his waist and walked back into his room to get dressed. Digging to the bottom of his lowest drawer, Zack grabbed out the narrow box and cut the tape with haste. It had been years since he last wore what McHall called the "battle suit." Only he and his old Division mates had them as a test-run for special uniforms before they were considered unpractical due to having not-so-dangerous missions considering the training provided by the Octagon. Once he got the others out, Zack scrapped theirs but always felt the need to keep his- modifying it a bit more to his liking; and he was glad he did. After the last encounter with Lium Foltson, Zack knew this mission was one that called for it.

After slipping on a fresh pair of socks, Zack pulled on the snug blackish-grey legging-like pants that had small hexagonal patterns which were a more rubbery type of material. Pulling on his black long sleeve, Zack snatched the short sleeve vest out of the box that was the same material as the pants aside from its pitch-black hood and pockets on the front. Zipping it up, he yanked on his dark, worn-out combat boots and slipped on the finger gloves. They were dark grey, thin enough that his hands could breathe, and the palms also had the rubbery hexagon patterns for grip. He knew that some of the others had come home once hearing the front door open and close, but he paid his housemates no mind upon silently stalking out into the living room to rummage the weapons closet.

"That's an interesting get-up," Dean commented darkly from where he stood in the kitchen. Zack didn't respond as he reached deep into the back of the closet behind all the guns and pulled out a sheathed knife about ten inches long. The handle of the blade looked to be black leather and the sheath itself was a dark matte grey. Finding the stone in the closet used to sharpen their blades, he sat down on the couch and slowly drew the knife. It was the first blade McHall gave him after he succeeded his first S-class mission with nothing but a switchblade. Over the years, when it came to top-class missions, this had become his favorite weapon to use. Holding the blade out, pointing away from him, Zack's thumb hit the button on the handle and the blade extended another eight inches; now looking like a full-fledged sword.

Dean watched on in silence. He had been with Rex following Roy in case of backup as he followed Mel. They watched her go into a salon and exit with her hood on some time later. Roy lost her for a short distance before finding their second, "backup" motorcycle crashed in an alleyway and Mel laying several feet away close to death. Her wounds weren't from an accident so he took her to the infirmary and called Dean shortly after telling him to get everyone away from the house before Zack gets home and to not be alone with him. Something petrified Roy who had been known to being fairly immovable against anything he faced and it made Dean curious. He watched Zack sharpen the sword before holding it up to observe the blade. Retracting the blade to its shorter version, Zack stood up and sheathed the weapon again before strapping the sheath around his left thigh for easy grabs. Walking back to the closet, he returned the stone and grabbed a Glock. Filling its magazine, he grabbed a holster and placed it at the small of his back before putting a spare magazine in the pocket at the front of his vest. Grabbing two smaller sheathed daggers, Zack placed them in the outer inside of his boots. After shutting the white closet door, he disappeared back down the hallway.

"What are you doing out here by yourself?" Amber asked once leaving her room from hearing footsteps. "You heard what Roy said."

"I'm just observing." Dean responded, crossing his arms over his broad chest.