Desmond strolled leisurely down a well-lit road, his long strides perfectly in rhythm with his humming.
Zoom!!
A red SUV sped by, narrowly missing him.
"Are you out of your mind?! Get the fuck out of the road, you dimwit!!" the driver shouted, swerving angrily.
Desmond barely flinched. "Hmm… I feel like I'm forgetting something."
He tapped a finger to his lips thoughtfully. "Jack?"
Then it hit him. "Jack!!" he exclaimed, amused. A grin spread across his face as he tapped the comms device in his ear.
Beep.
"You mother-fucking asshole! Why the fuck did you put me on hold?!" Jack roared the moment the connection returned.
"Hm? When was that?" Desmond asked casually, pausing as though thinking. Then his grin widened. "Oh—Kenny boy."
Jack sighed. "Who the fuck is Kenny boy? You know what, forget that. Did you trace the documents?"
"Oh, those? They're currently with the DVH," Desmond replied, nonchalant.
Jack's voice tightened. "Which district?"
"New Metro District," Desmond answered, smiling to himself as he acknowledged Jack's patience and his own failed attempt to provoke a tantrum.
"Okay then, your mission's changed from locate to retrieve. Get the documents and report back to HQ," Jack ordered, awaiting confirmation.
Desmond paused. The wind whistled softly through the comms. "Yeah, that's quite the hassle. I'll need a full rundown. But first…"
He stopped in front of the red SUV that had nearly hit him.
"…I need to handle a situation here."
Honk! Honk! Honk!!
The SUV's horn blared.
"Who the hell are you?!" the driver shouted as Desmond slowly approached.
"Hey, don't come any closer! Stop—stop right there!"
The man's voice slurred; he'd clearly been drinking.
Desmond reached the driver's side, his hand gripping the door handle.
"I do hope you have insurance," he said cheerfully, his smile darkening.
The metal creaked under his grip as his fingers bored into the door frame through the mangled handle. Then, with terrifying ease, he ripped the entire door clean off its hinges.
It clattered across the road, throwing up sparks and letting out a long, metallic screech.
The man wet himself. Beer cans spilled out of the vehicle. Panicking, he stumbled out, fell to his knees, and flattened himself against the pavement.
"Please, let—" he began to beg.
Squash!!
Desmond's foot came down with brutal finality.
"Ugh. So dirty," he muttered, lifting his now blood-splattered sneaker. His devilish grin vanished, replaced by disgust. He shook off some of the brain matter as the SUV's security system blared in the background. Even the crickets went silent.
Desmond walked to the back of the car and picked something up.
"Sick freak," Jack said through the comms.
"Oh, you heard that?" Desmond replied playfully. "He made it easy—kneeling like that. I forget how fragile they are sometimes."
He resumed walking, hands in his pockets, leaving behind a trail of bloody footprints.
"So! About that mission rundown—hit me," he said, his grin returning.
Jack cleared his throat, shaken. "Right. The DVH—Justin Kindle—owns a mansion in New Metro Estate. Building number 541. He lives there with a family of three: Justin, Mary, and Ken Kindle. Security is—"
"Ken?"
Desmond suddenly halted, dropping into a runner's stance. His smile stretched unnaturally wide.
"Er… yes. Why?" Jack asked, confused. But Desmond didn't respond.
"Catch you later, Jack."
"Don't you dare end that—"
Beep.
Jack's protest was cut off.
"Two Kens in one day, huh?" Desmond whispered to himself. "Beautiful coincidence."
The air around him grew heavy. A dark aura surged. Then, with a thunderous boom, he vanished—nothing more than a blur to the naked eye.