Origins- Protectors

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Crashing Down

The most dangerous man in the room is the man who holds the most knowledge. Nighthawk did not like it when anyone held more knowledge than him. The SCD agent that had been investigating the terrorist group's activities over the months had been held in chains, strung from the ceiling of a torture cell. Nighthawk strode into the cell. In cases of torture, he preferred to handle things himself,

"I'm not a spy, honest!" the agent shrieked in her English accent,

"No, you are not honest," Nighthawk said calmly, pulling a serrated switchblade from his belt, "and liars do not belong here,"

He slashed at her abdomen, drawing a line of blood as she screamed in pain,

"Tell me the weakness of your boss, Zavant, and I will let you go free,"

"He has no weakness!" the spy shouted, then she switched up tactics, "and he's going to rain hellfire down on you if you hurt me,"

"Thank you for so kindly informing me that you are a spy," Nighthawk said, rolling his shoulders back and tilting his neck so that it cracked, "you slipped up,"

The man stepped out into the fleeting light, leaving the body of the spy in his wake, and walked towards an outside table. There was already a woman at the table, but she did not look up,

"High Priestess," Nighthawk greeted, stooping into a low bow, hands clasped over his head,

"It is interesting that you know our ceremonial greeting, American," She drawled back, looking at the man, "come, sit,"

Nighthawk sat, pouring himself some tea from the stainless steel kettle that sat in the centre of the table,

"You will not enjoy that tea, American. It is laced with cyanide, as is our way,"

Nighthawk poured a mug,

"People who follow the BlackHeart religious section drink this to build immunity, correct?"

"Yes, but we have drank it for years before we reach the kind of dosage that you are drinking,"

Nighthawk drank it in one gulp, pouring himself another mug,

"I have been poisoned many times before, sometimes by my own people. A little cyanide, I can handle,"

The High Priestess glanced down at her own mug before talking to the American again,

"You have gone to great lengths to know our ways,"

"Of course, to ask this service of you would require a little courtesy,"

"We may be a cult, Mr Hawk, but we do not throw away our lives for false gods like the other religions do,"

"I am not asking your people to throw away their lives, merely to assist our cause,"

The High Priestess rose, extending a hand,

"Your offer is too kind, I will have to accept,"

Nighthawk took it, shaking professionally,

"Then our business is concluded. Do not forget to show up for the game,"

New Years Eve 2025 was crazy. The Protectors had been scouting out Optus Stadium all week, as amateur games had been played, hoping to catch a glimpse of the black and brown armour that Nighthawk wore The more that they dug into the scenario, the more sinister it became. The SCD had acquitted Christian Carter, who was officially dead, as some CCTV footage had leaked that showed Kinetic speaking to Nighthawk, the real mole. Jones had also confirmed that investigation was underway in the SCD, hoping to find the real mole, who had stolen the super-virus, the sound wave gun, and the strange blood alterer. Jones had also sent some unmarked police to the Stadium, hoping to catch the terrorist,