All For Luz - [The Owl House x MHA]

S1 - Ep 3: The Not-So-Dull Summer Camp - pt 2 [Revised]

Sitting across from him was another man dressed in a two-piece black business suit and a bright red tie, with a white shirt peeking out from underneath the suit. In one hand, the man held onto a lighter whilst he puffed a cigar, leaning into his chair with one leg crossed over the other. Meanwhile, his free hand was stroking his beard, as a toothy, predatory smile gleamed just behind it. His piercing blue eyes shot metaphorical daggers into the other man's soul, who tried his damnedest to not look intimidated.

Next to the man, on either side of him, were two members of the FBI, signified by their badges on their breast pockets. They too were dressed in black business suits and red ties with wiretap devices attached to their ears, sunglasses obscuring their eyes. All three of the men looked about ready to pounce at any given moment.

"Come now, Counsellor. I'll give you however much money you want in return for this! Think of it! You could give your family whatever it is they want. Just name the price, and I'll pay for it out of my pocket. Just, try to be realistic, yeah?" the man said, as the two FBI agents bristled as if waiting for orders to attack the counsellor.

Unfortunately for the man across the table, the counsellor was not interested. He would stand his ground, if not for himself, then those who he had promised that their children would return home safe and sound. "I don't care what you offer me. I will not hand over those children or this camp to you! Forget it!"

The man across the table frowned, as if disappointed. He took the cigar out of his mouth, before tapping it once, allowing the ash to fall to the ground. He sat up straight, tilting his head down ever so slightly, his eyes hardening like steel, glaring directly at the counsellor.

"With all due respect, Counsellor Johnson, this is for the safety of the people of Connecticut. I'm sure you understand, don't you? You wouldn't want any accidents happening and have it blamed on you, right? For all we know, those "children" could be Chinese super soldiers here to kill the innocent children of America. You wouldn't want that, would you?" The man in the business suit asked as Johnson rocketed up from his chair, slamming his hands onto the desk with enough force to shake it.

For a second, one of the FBI agents went to lunge toward Johnson, only stopped by the man in the suit, raising his hand, as if to tell them that it was alright. The FBI agent reeled back, getting back into posture with both of his arms crossed in front of his chest. "Maybe it would be best for you to not do that again? I don't know if I can hold him back after this."

It was a small taunt, but a taunt nonetheless. It made the counsellor bristle with rage. His blood boiled with fury. To think that this man... that he represented the people of Connecticut. It was a complete and total shame. He had always hated the Governor for political reasons. But now? Now he had a personal reason to hate him.

"With all due respect, Governor, that's a load of bullshit! You know that I know that they are born and bred American children. It says as much on their birth certificates. We do background checks, so we get to see that type of thing. And besides, that doesn't give you the right to walk in here and say that you're going to do something without my knowledge! You didn't talk to me about it! I run this camp! No one else, and I for one am not stupid enough to fall for that kind of nonsense! What do you take me for, a retard?!" Johnson spat as The Governer frowned, sighing.

"You know, Counsellor, you're right. I apologize. I shouldn't have worded it that way," The Governor said, his frown turning into a scowl. "I don't need to talk to you about it. This is an order." As he spoke, he snapped his fingers as one of the men beside him threw down a folder in front of Johnson, who faltered for a moment.

The folder was labelled TOP SECRET in bright bold, red letters. Underneath it was a title. Project "Protect America" underneath it in cursive writing. Johnson stared at the folder, before looking back at the group of men in front of him, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face as he swallowed back a lump of fear.