Anytime You Want

The walls are high, and the fluorescent light doesn’t quite illuminate the linoleum floor. I march and pass a younger man, who visibly straightens at the sight of me.
“Sargent.” The Corporal scurries away at my nod and I continue striding down the dark corridor, with its black metal walls and limitless security cameras. I catch a glance of myself in the black glass of the long windows that interrupt the reinforced metal doors. Sharp haircut, well defined jaw, immaculate uniform, bulled boots. I walk through one of the nameless black doors, and click my heels automatically. The control centre is a state of the art facility, controlling every secret camera and sensor the US has. Pulsing blue screens fill the walls, and at each, a man sits, each muttering into microphones strapped onto their heads. Those men who aren’t engrossed in work salute respectfully as I pass, before returning to piles of paper or to contributing to the low buzz of focussed noise. I reach a door at the other side of the room, and knock.
“Boaz?” The voice that calls is strong, but a little faded with age.
“Yes sir.”
“Come in.” I push open the door, and then shut it firmly behind me. The room has dark walls, and an American flag hangs behind the wrinkled man who sits at a large desk, typing on a sleek laptop. I nod respectfully at the aged commander.
“Iero and Way. Any leads so far?” He doesn’t look up as he speaks in his clipped tone. I take the leather seat, and face my Commander. Between us lies a mahogany desk, a stunning piece of furniture in the otherwise standard space.
“A motel owner had a pair of Jersey men in about two weeks ago. The taller of the two used her computer.”
“And the investigation results?”
“Should be ready any time now.” As if on cue, a knock disturbs the still air. The door opens without authorisation, and the woman who walks in hands me a short text on white paper. I scan it as she walks out without a word. My smile curls upwards. This is why I love the Service; you get to catch the fools red handed.
“Permission to perform code three seven one?” He looks at me.
“You have a location?”
“Oh I will, sir. I will.” He smiles too.
“Granted. Carry on, son.”
I burst out the door and walk more purposefully. I bark commands at a few of the guys, all much smaller than me. I sit in front of a monitor, and a technician triangulates a position.
“There” she breathes. There, on the hidden thermal imaging camera, are two people hidden in some sort of structure. I lean into the screen. The white figures are very close to each other. I frown; Iero was Way’s patient, the last I heard. I sigh, and rub my temple with my forefinger. The plans would have to be made, profiles researched, a tab kept on the fugitives.
“Mary?” A woman scurries up.
“Can you keep these two’s locations tracked please?”
“Of course.” She lowers her glasses and types quickly at the computer I just vacated, her immaculate hair in a sleek French twist shining. “Are you going to move in on these?”
“They’ll be expecting us. And these two don’t have the track record of playing it by the book, exactly.”
“Playing this one smart I see, Sir.”
“Yes.” I smile and she turns and grins at the momentary chink in the tough exterior I wear. As she turns around, my mind begins to whir.
Frank Iero is notoriously evil, and I know Gerard Way is incredibly smart. One thing is for sure: I have to work fast before they work it out.
~
The white figures separate, high up on an unwatched monitor. One goes outside the structure; his outline is clearer. He stretches, and then his head snaps to the side. It took hours before anyone noticed that the camera had been smashed and the figures were gone.

Notes