Chapter Text
Jon woke up at 6:30 the next day with a terrible headache. The past night’s conversation along with how late he had fallen asleep left him irritable and in pain. He chugged a soda and checked his phone. He had one new message from who else but Wren with coordinates and a time, 12:00 pm sharp . Cloaked sighed and got ready for the day the caffeine from the soda gave him a slight energy boost but didn’t fix his headache like he’d hoped. He packed what items he had and left his apartment giving the landlord his final payment before leaving his Arizona base for the good. Jonathan drove his motorcycle to the coordinates. Arriving at 8:45 it was an airfield but whatever transport Halcyon planned hadn’t arrived yet so Cloak drove around killing time. Having a proper breakfast and trying to take his mind off of the situation he was in.
Time nearly slipped away from him playing at an arcade, but luckily he got back at exactly 12pm. By that time there was a private jet in front of it was a man with sunglasses and a suit on. He had light brown hair and was quite a few inches taller than Cloak.
“Good you made it.” The man’s voice was curt and emotionless Cloak realized that this was Wren in front of him. “Sorry to make you come on such short notice,” Wren said, clearly making fun of the height difference. Cloak forced himself to ignore the comment.
“Not like I had much of a choice.” Cloak retorted.
“No you didn’t.” Wren stated. Cloak stepped up with his bag into the jet Wren followed close behind.
“Our pilot will be Falcon, he’s another operative, so you can talk openly.” Wren informed. Cloak didn’t care to respond, he simply placed his bag in the overhead and sat down. The Arizona skyline disappeared behind the clouds. After a few minutes it dawned on Cloak that he had no idea where the jet was going. Cloak decided to take a chance and ask where they were going.
“So mind telling me where we’re going? Or are ya gonna pull the ‘I'm too cool for answers’ thing crooks like you like to do?”
“I suppose it poses no threat to tell you. We're bound for Canada, where Halcyon’s main base is located.” Wren said.
“Gotcha,” Cloak responded. “One more question.”
“Ask away,”
“How did you find me?” Cloak was still miffed that they’d been able to.
“There aren’t that many 15 year olds who know how to code such sophisticated security systems, and even less who graduated from Columbia University in the last year,”
Of course, I should've scrubbed that article, stupid pride.
“We actually wouldn’t have caught wind of you until that bank heist, not very wise to show your face to a bank manager for hours before knocking him out. Nor is it smart to grab only one specific deposit box’s contents,”
I actually had a plan for that you stupid bird, but my dumb brain got in the way.
He sat in silence for the rest of the ride. Watching the window as the plane made its way from the sunny skies of Arizona to the cold and cloudy skies of Canada. They landed in a small airfield that had rows of similar jets and helicopters. Very well funded. Cloak thought as Wren, Falcon, and he stepped off the jet. They moved towards an imposing building that looked like a large military complex surrounded by a dense forest of pine trees.
The three of them entered and Cloak was grateful to be out of the cold; he had only packed his favorite green hoodie for the trip as it was the only thing he needed in Arizona. As they moved Wren began talking about how the building functioned, but Cloak mostly focused on the possible exits and memorizing the path they walked.
“Are you even listening?” Wren asked, abruptly stopping and Cloak nearly crashed into him. Wren then turned to glare at him. He pointed toward the sign that read “briefing room.”
“There are two other new recruits past this door. You are all here to receive the rundown of our operations and to learn just what it means to be a Halcyon agent. Think of this as an orientation.” Wren then pushed the door open to reveal a small circular room with a table in the middle and three people sitting in the chairs. The one at the head of the table was clearly important. An old man with white well kept hair and a trimmed beard as well as a suit and tie. The one on the right side of the table wore attire similar to Cloak’s with a gray and black hoodie and messy black hair, he looked to be in his twenties.
Finally the man on the left side of the table was someone he recognized. Upon seeing the man Cloak immediately wanted to run in the opposite direction of this room and get lost in the massive complex. It was Vincent Stone more commonly known as Death with his neat combed black hair, bomber jacket and button up shirt. As Cloak stood there petrified, Wren with all the tact of a bulldozer told him to get in the room and sit down. Cloak did as he was told and decided that if he was to make out of this orientation alive he would have to sit quietly and not say a word.
So a near impossibility. Cloak sat down and the man in the suit stood up and began to address the three recruits.
“I’m glad you all have made it safely to our headquarters. I'm sure you’re all excited to know what you will be doing as operatives of our great organization.” The man said a heavy British accent lacing his words. “I am the Director and shall be referred to only as such. I’m the brains behind this operation. Though I doubt you want to hear what I have to say, you want to know just how much money you’re getting for your services and what kinds of jobs you’ll be partaking in,” The Director said.
“Well you paid quite a lot for that little job at the police department.” The man in the gray hoodie said. “I imagine the earnings will be similar right?”
“Quite. You will all receive five-thousand per successful mission and whatever you manage to… appropriate for yourselves. There is also a bonus should you manage not to draw attention to us through killing someone.” The Director droned. Cloak noticed that Death seemed somewhat annoyed at that fact and Cloak knew why. Death from what he knew of him was always one who preferred the heavy handed strategy compared to a stealthy approach.
“Now that you know how much you will be paid, why don’t you three introduce yourselves as you may have to work together throughout your careers.” The Director said. Cloak’s heart skipped a few beats as heard that. Death certainly would hold a vendetta against him and he didn’t feel like being ground to dust by the goliath of a man sitting to his left. Luckily he was somewhat saved by the man he feared the most.
“Hold on before we go on,” Death said. “Well first off, name’s Death not that matters at the moment. What does matter to me is why there’s just some kid sitting next to me,” Death looked at the young man to the right of him, who by his estimates couldn’t be older than 17 “Like come on does he even know how to hold a gun?” The Director looked at Vincent with a wry smile.
“I was wondering if any of you would bring that up, do not let his age fool you, he’s quite adept. We found him after he broke into one of our warehouses, but I’m sure he can tell you about that himself,” The Director said, gesturing to Cloak. Internally Cloak was panicking. His plan to keep quiet and not have Death kill him was about to be ruined.
“Namescloak,” He said way too fast to sound normal or relaxed which was heavily juxtaposed with his outward poster. Death, shot a look at The Director. Yeah real cunning old man, kid’s so scared can’t even say his code name right.
“Sorry didn’t quite get that,” Death said, being patient with the youth. Cloak was shocked at the civility in Death’s words. Maybe he won’t try to kill me . He thought as he took a deep breath.
“Call me Cloak,” He said. In an instant all the patience and civility left Vincent’s face at the sound of Cloak’s name. What rested on his face now was a contusion of pure distilled hatred. Slowly and deliberately Death rose to his feet. In a moment Cloak felt himself rise into the air, the collar of his jacket in a, well in a death-grip as Death brought him to his eye level.
An infinitesimally small part Death recognized that the man he was holding in a vice grip was in fact a child and didn’t want to see the kid hurt. Luckily that part was outweighed by the immense feeling of hatred? No hatred didn’t describe it well enough. Complete and utter abhorrence was what he felt looking upon the man who ruined him.
“So you’re the scum that ruined me eh?” Death asked, his voice sounding like magma-tic rock being ground together. “I’d heard you got hired by some big organization. Must be my lucky day that we were hired by the same one, so I can have the pleasure of tearing you limb from limb!” Death shouted the words in the young man’s face as he wound up a punch, while Cloak squirmed and tried to pull away. Suddenly, a shot was fired between the two criminals. Cloak was thrown back into his chair as Death glared at the man who fired at the two of them. Wren stood completely still, smoking gun in hand.
“What the heck man you coulda shot me!” Cloak shouted indignantly. Wren simply handed the gun to The Director and went back to guarding the door.
“I don’t believe that was the biggest concern for you Cloak.” The Director said. “However I’m glad two of our recruits already know each other, because you two will be working together on the mission I have planned for you,” The Director said with a small smile on his face. Cloak and Death looked at each other and for the first time in their few meetings together agreed on one thing.
“You’re kidding right?” They said in unison, as they both shot up to yell at the old man sitting at the head of the table, a voice called out.
“I’m Finch by the way,” Said the man in the gray hoodie.
It had been a few weeks after the first meeting when the Director called the three new recruits back to the meeting room. Cloak in the past weeks had familiarized himself with the different amenities such as the cafeteria, shooting range, and lounge; he was surprised how many recreational rooms were in the base including an agility course that Cloak made liberal use of. He also did his best to avoid Death, but he knew that whatever harebrained scheme these Halcyon lunatics had cooked up would bring them to inevitable confrontation.
As he walked into the meeting room he felt better than he had when first starting this journey but still felt on edge. He saw the two new recruits once again on the left and right of the Director. The air of the room was much less jovial than it had been when they first met here. The Director had a stern look to his face and an air of foreboding permeated the walls.
“So I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve called you here. It’s for a very special mission now I know you’re recruits but as we are at the moment we are strapped for good operatives and you have all shown sufficient skill in your respective areas.
“Well gentlemen it’s time to put it to the test. We have an operative unlawfully detained in a government blacksite in Alaska known as Wargate. Your job is to get her safely out without being seen or drawing attention to ourselves. Though should anything go wrong we do have a plan B. For now our current plan is to ship you three off in a container as a Trojan Horse, a concept I’m sure you all are familiar with.
“Once in the base you will have no contact with us until you’re able to set some kind connection though we don’t know if that’s even possible. One thing we do know, is the easiest way to get our operative out will be to obtain an authorization code, and fake a prison transfer. However should anything go amiss, you will need to disarm the anti-aircraft turrets so our pilot can land. Do you all understand?” The Director said to them. The three operatives nodded.
“Good, the mission is scheduled for tomorrow the 19th, but we are shipping you out today to ensure we are on schedule. I will see you back here in two hours, and you had better have everything you need.” The Director said the last part like a threat so Cloak quickly scampered out of the room and started to pack for the trip.
Death was annoyed to say the least for the last three weeks he had been stewing in his own rage. He knew he was being irrational and a professional like him shouldn’t be irrational but something about that kid Cloak got under his skin. Death wasn’t surprised however as the kid was pretty much the opposite of himself, whereas he always preferred the straightforward approach the kid sitting next to him in a dark shipping crate wouldn’t even talk to or look at him as if he was incapable of head on confrontation. Death never did the like the quote-unquote silent operators even back in his old gang.
Something about them freaked him out, maybe it was just his military training, things you can’t hear or see aren’t usually passive. Uranium may be quiet but it will kill you if exposed long enough and that’s how he felt about the kid sitting next to him. Maybe he was overthinking things, who knows the kid might not be a ticking time-bomb waiting to kill him and the other guy sitting next to Death. Whatever it was he couldn’t let it get to him. You’re a professional Vincent so act like one. Kid said he’s never killed before, hopefully that’s the truth . Death sighed and leaned back against the wall as he felt the container being raised up by a crane and placed onto a truck heading for the Blacksite.
When Cloak heard Death begin to snore he felt his heart start beating again. Three weeks he successfully avoided him but now he was sitting next to him in a small container trying very hard not to draw attention to himself. He looked past the juggernaut of a man and at the younger man (though still older than Cloak) who was sitting patiently as if in the waiting room of a doctor’s office.
“So…” Cloak said in a whisper as to not wake the sleeping giant. “What’s your story?”
“My story?” Finch asked.
“Ya’know how you got into this life,” Cloak explained.
“That’s a bit of a personal thing to ask, don’t you think?” Finch said. Cloak punched himself mentally. Of course other criminals may not be comfortable sharing their past, this isn’t the mafia you aren’t a famiglia. You don’t know them beyond professional entanglement, and they aren’t your friends… Friends, man what a terrible show that was, c’mon Jon stay focused.
“Sorry, just trying to make small talk,” He said placatingly.
“It’s fine just, haven’t had to think about it in a while,” The operative said. “I suppose that a good story will help pass the time.”
“If you’re ok with it,” Cloak said.
“Heh, it’s fine, youth story time was always my favorite community service,” Finch said with a light chuckle.
“I’m not that young,” The 16 year old responded.
“Uh-huh,” The older operative gave a mock agreement. “Well it all started back in a run down warehouse in Arizona…” It was a few hours later when Finch finished his story.
“That was the day I became a freelancer,” He began. “It was my departure, the day I set out to find a better path. I know I lost twenty million, but I’d like to think I traded it for one last lesson, life is short .”
He was part of the crew, at the skyscraper! I’m in the presence of a legend. Insane,
As he finished the three of them felt the container begin to rise again this time accompanied by the sound of helicopter blades.
“Looks like we’re being flown in,” Death said, having woken up a few minutes ago. “You two get some rest, we don't need you wasting any more air, or energy on stories.” With that Finch and Cloak did as Death said and took the opportunity for the next few hours to rest while waiting to arrive to the mission site