Shambles counters with two rapid jabs to Mark Smith’s abdomen, and a roundhouse kick to his jaw. Mark staggers backward. Shambles kicks again, but he ducks. His foot breaks apart several bricks from the wall behind Mark. Mark picks up one of the bricks, and wails it at Shambles. He punches it out of the air, shattering it into dust. Shambles kicks Mark in the face, knocking him onto his back. Shambles McScrambled pins Mark with his knees and repeatedly punches him in the face.
“The Alliance has been watching you Mark Smith. Your term is finished.”
Shambles wraps his blistered hands around Mark’s neck. Mark grabs his watch and pulls out a small pin, then punctures Shambles’ hand. He releases Mark, collapses to the ground, and convulses as white froth oozes from his mouth. Mark gets up, brushes off chunks of dirt from his suit, and twists a knob on his watch. The C4 detonates, flinging dust and glass shards. Mark’s phone rings as he steps through the open doorway.
Mark places the phone to his ear. “The blue fox went vegetarian after a discussion with a wombat scientist,” said the distorted deep voice.
Mark’s eyes widen, and he smashes the glass case in front of him. He removes a white rectangular cardboard box, and exits the building. He hears sirens approaching, as Mark steps over the still body of Shambles McScrambled. Mark clicks a button on his key fob, his black Impala explodes, while he steps into an alley to locate his gray Jeep Cherokee. Mark speeds away.
Less than five minutes later, Mark coasts up a driveway situated in the rear of a used furniture store, and flashes the high beams. The garage door opens. He pulls his Jeep inside, parks, and gets out of the vehicle. Two men approach wearing black trench coats, white shirts, gray ties, silver aviator sunglasses, and black slip-on loafers. They even share the same black hair color and style. The agents would look identical, except Number-1 stands two inches taller than Number-3.
“Right on time, as usual.” Number-1 states as he holds out his hand. “I will take the package now.”
Mark hands over the rectangular box. Number-1 opens it and gasps, “Perfect! There’s even a Bear Claw in here.”
Number-3 looks inside the box, “Ah, you got my favorite – jelly filled.” He pulls out a giant donut dripping red jelly and shedding powdered sugar. He bites off almost half of the treat, “Thishh ish delishishh.” Jelly and powdered sugar attach to his chin.
“These are for me. Don’t touch. That’s the last one you’re getting,” Number-1 asserts.
After clearing his mouth, “Remember whose resource this is,” Number-3 counters as he points at Mark. “Who brought him in? Who trained him? Who instituted the encoded words? Me.”
“Well, all I have to say is…” Number-1 pauses then shouts, “The baritone went deaf after watching The Smurfs.”
Mark’s eyes widen then he pulls out both pistols and fires round after round into Number-3.
“Yes!” Number-1 points at Mark Smith. “That’s why I love you – you are the best. This morning gets better and better, and the work day hasn’t even started yet. Now I can get that window seat in the office I always wanted.”
Mark stares straight ahead without blinking.
“Well, maybe I should share some food. You must have burnt a lot of calories. Would you like a cream filled, or jelly with sprinkles, or should I feed this decadent desert to the stupid squeaky mice in the ceiling?”
Mark’s eyes widen. He pulls out both pistols, and aims them at Number-1.