OPUS Mag

Far from timid • Caveat Lector

Fiction Series: Chuckle - Part 3

Fiction Series: Chuckle - Part 3

I sit in the interrogation room, looking at my watch. My stomach starts grumbling and now I regret sharing my egg rolls. I hear the voices of the director and Bailey approaching the room, talking with the detective. "22 years," the detective says, "and I've never seen a guy drop four people and wait for the police to arrive while eating Chinese food. Excellent shooting, by the way." I nod and finish my water.

"Need anything else?" I ask, getting up.

"Nope, the detective says. "I think that's everything. Seems pretty open and shut, between the scene and the witnesses. Of course, you know, we're gonna have to keep your gun."

"Yeah sure," I say. "No charge." We leave the building and I see the car out front. I get in the front seat and doze off a bit.

"So how did that happen?" Bailey asks, driving too slowly.

"I went out for Chinese food," I say. "I Ran into some people who didn't take too kindly to my presence. They pulled guns and I responded. Pretty simple."

"It's never simple with you," the director says. "Like the time you shot those nuns."

"Those weren't nuns," I say sternly. "They were dressed like nuns."

"But did you know that?" The director asked.

"I knew enough," I say. "If you saw fake nuns with assault rifles, you'd shoot them too." Bailey continues to drive too slowly.

"You are definitely shoot-first, ask rarely," Bailey says. "I've never seen someone use as much ammo as you."

"I use my weapons as needed," I say.

"We were on a coffee run," Bailey says.

"Could you drive faster?" The director asks. "You drive like a bitch."

"Yeah, this is some Driving Miss Daisy shit here," I say. "We don't need the scenic route."

"Anxious, are we?" Bailey asks while speeding up a little.

"I'm hungry," I say. "I shared my Chinese food."

"You shared food?" Bailey asks.

"I was feeling charitable," I say. I lean over in my seat and stomp on Bailey's right foot. The car accelerates sharply.

"What are you doing?" Bailey exclaims, trying to move his foot. I relent.

"That is an appropriate speed," I say.

"I have a meeting," the director says.

"If I had a gun right now..." I trail off. We bicker amongst ourselves for what had to be an hour, until we pull into the underground parking. "Finally." I get out of the car as it slows to a stop and start walking.

"You could've waited literally two more seconds," Bailey said as he and the director get out. I'm already 40 feet ahead.

"I left food," I say, walking briskly towards the disguised entrance.

I make a beeline towards the Armory. Andrea intercepts me. "What the hell happened last night?" She asks.

"They started, I finished," I say. "No big deal." I resume walking to the Armory. Andrea joins me.

"I'm finding myself increasingly concerned..."

"What, you like me or something? Let's relax here." I feel a twinge of adrenaline coursing through me. We stop when I see the armorer. The armorer is an old guy, with sturdy hands and hair almost finished turning white.

"How are you guys today?" He asks in a hushed, but excited voice. Andrea makes a neutral face.

"I'm good," I say. "Unarmed though."

"Oh, can't have that," He says, stepping inside the Armory. "Come on in!" Andrea and I step inside and look around. She looks at submachine guns while I head towards the .40 caliber pistols.

"I do like a nice .40," I say.

"We just got some new stuff the other day," he says. "Including those H&Ks you were talking about."

"With the stainless?" I ask.

"Yep," he says. I pick up a USP compact in my left hand. It feels light, but authoritative. I play with the slide, peer down the sights, drop the empty magazine into my right hand and play with reloading it. "You shoot lefty?"

"I do," I say. "I prefer left but I'm just as devastating with the right." He gestures for the pistol and I hand it to him.

"I'll have this modified for your left in just a minute!" He takes the pistol and walks quickly off towards his work table. I look around, finding another in black. For my right hand. I search for appropriate holsters.

"Where are the.." I start to ask.

"Locker, middle right for you," he says without looking up. "Almost finished." I tuck the second pistol into my back pocket and open the door. I look around for a bit before finding a nice leather holster that I would almost never use, with a matching set of magazine cases. I attach the gear to my jeans as Andrea approaches me with a carbine.

"I still don't get the lo mein thing," she says.

"All finished!" The armorer says, presenting me with the pistol in both hands. I take it and slide it into the holster. "Perfect fit."

"Oh, there's a meeting," Andrea says, walking out with the carbine. I grab a few boxes of ammunition and some magazines.

"Thanks," I tell the armorer.

"Enjoy!" He says. We make our way to the conference room, where the director is already speaking. Andrea walks in first. I follow and head straight to an empty chair. I set the magazines, the ammo, and the second pistol on the table and take a seat, not looking up.

"...so our objective is not to interfere with this device, but to copy its contents so we know what's on there," he says. I pull the pistol from my holster and begin loading its empty magazine. "I'm thinking a team of four or five total, three going in and two running..."

"You're not taking notes?" Bailey asks. I'm mostly not paying attention.

"Well, as a highly-trained intelligence operative, one of my specialties is processing, analyzing, and retaining large amounts of information on the fly," I say quietly. "This absolves me from doing things like taking notes on black operations, which are, by definition, illegal." I continue pushing hollow-points into the magazine as Bailey drops his pen.

"Uh," Bailey utters. I finish the first magazine and start on the next.

"To help us out with this particular operation, we have an agent on loan from British SIS," the director continues. I load a fourth round into the magazine. "MI5, or 6, or something like that."

"This'll be fun," I mutter. I briefly look up while continuing to work. The director walks over to the door and pushes it open. Someone walks in.

"This is Charlie- um, what's your last name again?" the director asks the person. I look up again and fumble with the next round, dropping it.

Fiction Series: Heaven's Dew - Part 6

Fiction Series: Heaven's Dew - Part 6

Fiction Series: 4th Quarter Love - Chapter 4

Fiction Series: 4th Quarter Love - Chapter 4