Samuel Hawthorne was not in a good mood today.
It wasn't anything new–to be honest, the events of the past few days, (or weeks, or months, he had no idea what multiversal time was) hadn't exactly made him the happiest man in the Tower. In fact, he was honestly considering taking his chances and leaving if it meant escaping the man right in front of him.
Blackwater was out cold on the mattress, snoring loudly as drool leaked from his mouth. The stench coming from him made Hawthorne wrinkle his nose as he got a whiff. How long had it been since he'd last showered? Did he even try to stay clean on his last run out? Whatever the case, it was clear that his room wasn't much better, with cleaning equipment and bottles littered about, as if he'd been called away while he was doing something.
Still, that's no excuse for this state. Hawthorne sneered. Seriously, he may have just come back from a job, but from what I've seen, when you're ordered to do something, you freshen up and do it. Not sleep in for a few hours.
He took out a deck of cards from his coat. They were nothing fancy to look at, just a used set of cards, but Hawthorne had been using them for a long time, and as he shuffled, he took care not to bend any. As he took out a card from the deck, he grinned. Two of hearts. It wasn't as good as he was hoping for, but still, this was going to be fun.
He tossed it up into the air, and instead of falling back to the ground, it remained there. He chuckled. He doubted he was allowed to do this under normal circumstances, but still, he was going to enjoy what came next.
The card burst into a bright red light, and Hawthorne covered his ears as a loud BOOM filled the air. He bit back the urge to laugh as he saw Miles shoot to his feet instantly, gun in his hand as he looked around wildly, until finally settling on him. "You son of a bitch."
"Me?" Hawthorne scoffed. "You were the one who decided to sleep in instead of freshening up. They just sent me to wake you up."
"I see," Miles returned as he looked Hawthorne up and down. "Then tell me, does that have anything to do with your stupid getup?"
"No." Sam snapped defensively. He was wearing the clothing of a magician, a red frock, white gloves, complete with a top hat. "It's because they placed me under you, smartass."
"Unfortunately," The gunslinger muttered. He turned to the bathroom. "Let me freshen up then. I doubt that he'll want me stinking up his office."
"In that case, I'll wait for you," Hawthorne replied with a light grin. "Just to make sure you don't fall asleep again."
Miles stared at him incredulously for a moment, before finally stalking off. "Asshole."
"It's not being an asshole when you have a job to do!" Hawthorne called out after him, then chuckled as the other man groaned. Even if Miles was in charge, damn if he wasn't going to enjoy messing with him. It wasn't like the magician couldn't get out of trouble easily.
It took a few minutes, but eventually Miles finished showering, exiting the bathroom freshly dressed. He didn't spare Hawthorne a glance as he threw on his duster, then slid his revolvers into their holsters. "Let's go."
"Finally," Sam muttered as they walked out of the room. He let Blackwater lead the way as they made their way to the office. It may have been a month, but these hallways were still peculiar to him. Better to let the senior lead.
After a quick ride up using the elevator, the two found themselves in the office area. It was fairly unassuming, a white hall with black doors leading into each office. A glass panel bearing the names of the owners was embedded into each door, and eventually, they stopped in front of one particular plaque, reading T.S Miller.
They opened the door, and were greeted by the sight of a red-headed man doing some paperwork, only to look up at their entrance. He appeared unassuming, like what you'd expect from a donut-eating cop, but Hawthorne knew as a magician that appearances weren't everything.
"You," Miller said, an annoyed look on his face as he gestured to the two seats in front of him. "Sit down."
Once the two were seated, he laced his fingers together. "You want to explain why I had to send for you before we begin?"
"Look, I was tired–" Miles was cut off as Miller raised his hand.
"Fatigue means nothing when you can reverse time," he snapped. "You could've come to my office after you freshened up."
The gunslinger gritted his teeth. "How many times do I have to tell you, that reversing time takes a toll on my stamina? I've been doing it for the past two weeks to keep up, so if I did what you said, then I would've barely been able to function."
Miller waved his hand. "Then you could've used any number of things to give you some adrenaline. It's not that hard, Blackwater."
"Fine," The other man snapped. "I'll make sure to do that next time if it gets you off my ass. Now, you wanted my report?"
A winning grin breached Miller's lips, and he nodded. "Yes. It was in Fallout, correct?"
"Unfortunately," Miles muttered. He hated the Mojave. "Bastard took two weeks to track down."
"What was he doing there?" Miller pressed.
"He was helping the Legion along with their plans." Miles grimaced. "He burned down a town."
"But you reversed its condition, correct?" Miller frowned, and at Miles' nod, he motioned. "Continue."
"When I'd found him, he'd hit a Ranger Station." Miles' gaze sharpened. "Whole place was burned down. Inhabitants weren't much better."
"Unfortunate, but that's how it's supposed to be," Miller said gravely. "I take it you killed him?"
"Correct." The gunslinger nodded. "De-aged him and blew his head off."
"Good," Miller replied, stroking his chin. "You'll get your reward later."
"Am I free to leave then?" Miles said hopefully, but Miller shook his head.
"No, I have a job for you." He replied, and Miles folded his arms.
"What is it?" He frowned.
"It's the rookie," At that, the two looked at Hawthorne, and the man shifted in his seat awkwardly. "How long has he been here?"
"A month, but I left him here for half of that." Miles replied uncomfortably.
"You should've taken him with you," Miller chided. "Has he been on any missions with you?"
"A couple," Miles replied hesitantly. "Why are you–
"There's a reason why I had him bring you to me." Miller said, expression not changing. "How much does he know?"
"Not enough." Blackwater replied honestly. "Mainly just got him his weapon and shit."
"As for his ability? Did you train that?" The redhead pushed.
"A little, but–" Miles was cut off again as Miller clapped his hands together.
"Alright. This mission will be his first actual lesson then." The officer declared. "We've found quite the disturbance in Resident Evil lately, and we want you to deal with it. Further details are in this file." He slid a large yellow envelope across the table and Miles picked it up, before throwing his boss a concerned look.
"You sure you want me to take him for this?" He asked, frowning. "We could go with something smaller-scale."
"No," Miller replied firmly. "You have the right ability to save him if things go wrong, and he needs experience. This is your chance."
"Alright then." The gunslinger slid the file under his arm, before rising to his feet with Hawthorne. "You'll get the results when we're done. Just don't wake me up like that again."
"I won't if you do your job." The officer chuckled. "Now go. You ought to have some fun on this one."
"I hope so," Miles muttered as he turned to leave. Once they were outside, he turned to the magician. "Let's go."
"We're not going back to your room?" Hawthorne asked, and the gunslinger shook his head, tapping his ear.
"I can have what I need brought by the time we get there." He said, then tuned in. "Hey, can someone drop off the Hound from my room? You know the one. "
"Going out on another mission already, Blackwater?" A voice crackled in from the other side of the mic.
"Yep," Miles chuckled. "Get the feeling that I'm gonna be needing some firepower for this one. Just leave it at the pickup area for transport."
"Right." The voice replied. "It'll be there. Good luck."
"Thanks," Miles grinned, then turned to Hawthorne once again. "See what I mean? Come on."
With that, they began to make their way over to the transportation room, Miles checking the notes as they did so. It was an interesting case, to say the least. Some jumped-up Crusader was out to stop Wesker at Arklay Mansion before he could betray them. The gunslinger tutted. That certainly wouldn't do at all.
He stored the folder into the folds of his duster as he checked in, then immediately made his way over to pickup, a grin forming on his face as he found his delivery. A heavily modified black shotgun lay on the counter, a few handfuls of of shells lying on the side. It was extremely technological, with a glowing blue core positioned above the trigger, and its ammo was no different, ranging from a handful of small dark spheres to a group of red, extremely volatile shells.
"What the hell is that thing?" Hawthorne asked incredulously. "It's unlike anything I've seen before."
"That's because its one of a kind." Miles smirked as he strapped it onto his back. "I made it myself."
"Of course you did," The dandy groaned. "Let's go."
"Right." With that, the two made their way over to the usual gate, plugging in Resident Evil as their location. Before they entered, Miles looked at Sam one last time.
"Are you really ready?" He asked inquisitively.
"Not really," Hawthorne admitted. "What I've seen hasn't really given me much faith in your teaching abilities."
Miles grunted. "I suppose that's understandable. Been forever since I last took a partner."
"They leave because you're an asshole?" Hawthorne muttered, and Blackwater shook his head.
"No, but that's not important right now." He replied pensively, then forced a grin. "But for now, let's see if I can change your mind on my teaching skills. Let's go." And with that, the two took the plunge into the multiverse.