Spy Cars And Indigo Lights

Their, Good, Their Bad, and We Don't Bother to Label Ourselves

We stare at each other, to cautious to creep our hands towards our pockets.

He continues to look at me and I look at him. "Well Johansen, your reward is well worth it, but I need to know what's in it for me." I said taking a chance and reaching into my blazer to grab the match book the resides at the bottom.

Johansen tenses up as he follows my hand into my coat, and seems to melt a little as if he were a wax figure that was put under extreme heat when he sees me pull out matches and not a gun.

" Well, if the plan works out you'll get a quarter of the pay, and then we'll go our separate ways." He says, the cherry on his cigar falling on the desk that rests in between us like a thick barrier guarding me from the intensity on the other side.

A quarter million. Still not enough. Leonard Johansen has never been good at deal making, at least for Middle Crusaders like me. but this time he's really slacking.

"Make it half a million and maybe we'll consider." I whistle through my teeth, lighting the cigarette dangling from my mouth.

He sighs and takes a moment to consider, and then comes to a decision. "Look, add another five thousand but that's all your getting if plan A75 works out. That's my final offer."

I think for a moment.

Transgressors have never been known for generosity, as well as keeping a man alive after a said and done deal, but we could use the money.

I watch Charlie suddenly stalk into the room, throwing dirty looks at me as she walks towards the desk.

"Lance is waiting in the next room dear, do you want me to send him in?" Charlie asks rudely.

" That won't be necessary, send him back he can wait until tomorrow." He replied plainly.

I always wonder why they tied the knot. Both needed the money I suppose. They do come off as quite the power couple when they both have the right motivation as well.

"Well I best be leaving. Don't want to keep the boss waiting." I sigh as I extinguish my cigarette in the small ashtray on the desk.

Johansen smiles grimly and throws a dismissive wave after me as I walk out the big exit in the over sized room.

I have to borrow the phone in the lobby of the large apartment building (consisting mainly of Transgressors and civilians who are oblivious to anything but the free world).

I see Lance moving next to me and looking extremely pissed off.

" What happened?" I ask him as I dial Gannon's office.

"He sent me out after all that time it took me to get here!" he hissed angrily.

"You wouldn't have gotten much any way, the most he's giving me is twenty five hundred thousand. Besides, it's basically a suicide mission so I would just let it go." I say as I listen to the phone buzz.

"I thought you would have gotten more Wilbur Hutchings." Lance says in a tone that almost sounds playful. I just glare at him as Gannon picks up the phone.

"I thought we were just robbing someone?" Lance snaps his mouth turning to a slit.

"We are if the most we'll be getting is twenty-five hundred thousand, but if the Greater Edge can give us more from finding that, killer laser beam or whatever then it's probably what we'll do, and it won't be a suicide mission. Most likely. You know how the Transgressors are, they'll shoot a man for the fun of it." I answer after placing my hand over the transmitter.

He nods to show he understands and I peel my palm off the bottom of the phone.

"Sorry for the wait sir, making the deal was harder than expected."

"That's quite alright. You did bargain with him?"

"Yes sir, he said he needs four agents and a couple kits."

"Well how much money is he willing to pay you for the job?"

"Only twenty five hundred thousand."

"That's still not enough. If he's gonna beg for help that much the least he could do is give us more than that. Okay here's what we'll do; See how much the Greater Edge is willing to give you, then we'll see which mission to take."

"Right sir."

I Hang up the phone.

" He wants us to talk to the Greater Edge." I say after a pause.

Lance's face goes from sour to raged in a millisecond.

"I don't want to! I was hoping to avoid that!" he hissed.

"And you think I want to, it's no fun for anyone." I reply.

He continues to glare at me, and I couldn't tell if he was attempting to threaten me or if he was just pissed.

"Their just so noble and calm it makes me uncomfortable. Not to mention it's boring" Says Lance flushing a little more.

I look at him and consider his words for a second.

" You aren't exactly the definition of fun either." I tease, stepping away from the phone.

"Yes, but I'm not exactly Mr Goody Two Shoes either. And I don't want to here that coming from you!" he says following close behind me.

We exit the spin doors and cross the street after several cars pass. For some reason, the Transgressors decided to move there hideout in the empty plot across the street of the Greater Edge, using the apartment building as a cover. Probably to spy on them or something. Whatever. Why should I care, I mean the Greater Edges ignorance is their own fault and more or less their problem, not mine.

We push through the metal doors with their plexiglass windows. As soon as we step through the first set of doors, Lance grabs my arm and tugs me harshly, shoving me into the corner.

"What th-" I start to shout before he cuffs his hand over my mouth, leans in towards my ear and then hisses the following;

" The Greater Edge must not know we are Middle Crusaders. If they knew they'd do everything in their power to keep us alive, and I don't like the idea of being under their constant surveillance."

Of course. That's all Lance cares about. Not being stuck with debts. Not the fact that one wrong move will make our lives hang by a single thread, just his freedom and his ambitions.

But I say nothing for I'm guilty of the same greedy notions.

"Geeze I got it! How long do you think I've been doing this. Do you really feel the need to remind me every time we come here" I hiss.

I let him drag me from the corner, scan my fingerprints, and put in the code.

Fifteen years we've been keeping that secret from them, and in fifteen years, they haven't found out, or even seemed suspicious.

Guess we're good actors.

Whatever.

I open the door again and glance at Lance's face, in which he had forced into a wide smile, the bright lights glistening against his dark hair.

I realize I should probably groom myself and fix my face.

"Wait right here. Actually, you go ahead, I'll be right over." I tell him and then I stalk off to the bathroom.

I slunk over to the large chain of sinks and long mirror. I peer at my disastrous reflection.

"Yup. Definitely good I came in here." I think to myself.
My already fair skin looks paler than usual and my orange hair sticks out at strange angles. Overall, I look unkempt, something that doesn't go unnoticed by the Greater Edge.

I wet my hands and brush out my hair in an attempt to make it look neater. I slap my cheeks to add a little bit of color to my ghostly skin.

When I look up to examine my work I do admit I look more presentable, except for the fact that my light brown eyes are full of sleep, which I can't do much about at the moment.

I spend the next minute or two trying to force my face to shape its self into a convincing smile. Once I feel a little more satisfied, I trot out of the bathroom.