ALTERED SAGA: Sam's Origin Story

SAM

Exits at the east and west walls. Bar to the right. Most likely an exit through the back. At least a dozen windows. Two bartenders. Four servers.

Satisfied that he had all his bases covered, Sam started through the club. Music vibrated through the old pine floor, dislodging old memories of him in a chair, electricity running through his body. His teeth gritted automatically.

Focus, he thought in a growl, and tried to shake the feeling away.  

He spotted the guy he was here for—a short, twitchy man—in a booth along the north wall, sitting alongside one of the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the harbor. Green dock lights glowed on the other side of the glass.

The DJ called out a song through the speaker system and the crowd shifted closer to the stage, shouting their approval. The music switched to an alternative rock song and Sam relaxed.  

As he navigated through the crowd, people banged against him, shoving his gun and the holster into his ribs.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry!” a tiny blonde said, after ramming him in the stomach with an elbow. She tilted her head back to look Sam in the eyes and a pleased smile crept across her lips. “Hey there, good looking. Let me buy you a drink to apologize.”

“No thanks.”

She arched her back, causing her already tight tank top to strain even more against her chest. “How about a dance then?”

Sam moved past her without answering.

“Asshole,” she muttered behind him.

Across the room, the twitchy guy glanced over a shoulder and caught sight of Sam stalking through the crowd.

Sam cursed, and hurried his pace.

The twitchy guy leapt to his feet as Sam armed aside a heavy college kid and arrived at the booth in two quick strides. “Don’t run, Rick,” he said.

Rick stiffened. “They sent you?” He blinked excessively and licked his lips. “If I die, the story will be leaked and—”

“Sit.” Sam nodded at the booth. “We need to talk.”

Rick shook his head. “This isn’t the way this was supposed to go.”

Sam grabbed Rick by the shoulder and shoved him into the booth. “The Branch didn’t send me and if you can stop pissing yourself long enough to listen, I’ll tell you why I’m here.”

Reluctantly, Rick settled into his seat, but kept himself close to the edge, as if he meant to bolt at the first sign of trouble.

Sam only knew Rick vaguely. He’d worked as a lab tech at Headquarters and apparently stole something from the Branch that the Branch wanted back regardless of who got killed in the process. They’d been plotting damage control for the last two days.

Rick swallowed, his Adam’s apple sinking in his throat. “I’m listening.”

“I want whatever you took from the lab.”

Rick snorted and his glasses drooped down the bridge of his nose. “And you think I’ll just hand it over?”

Sam kept his shooting hand close to his side in case he had to pull the gun. He needed to be prepared for anything. “I think you’re in an incredibly dangerous position and you don’t have the ability to get yourself out of it.”

“I have all the necessary precautions in place—”

“But you thought little of your defense.”