Reload

The porch was covered in dust. Ramon Cortez sat in an old wooden chair looking out over the highway that stretched on endlessly a mile away from his house. In the cool of the night, he could see the vehicles easily.
     The phone inside his shack rang.
     His bony, leathery hands gripped the ends of the armrests as he foisted himself out of the chair and stepped inside. His raggedy old clothes rustled slightly as he stepped through the threadbare living room and picked up his cellphone.
     His voice was scratchy, rough, and had a thick Hispanic accent.
     "Yes? Who's calling?"
     "Your superior." Replied a very British voice.
     Ramon clicked his tongue in disappointment, then took a seat at his table.
     "Hi Percy."
     "I've told you to cease referring to me by that name."
     "Whatever; where's the target this time?" Ramon asked as he leaned back in his seat and yawned.
     "Tokyo, Japan."
     Ramon sat up in his chair.
     "Percy, I live in Texas."
     "I'm aware of that fact; however, your assignment to this case is non-negotiable. You are the only rank one Twisthunter available at the moment."
     Ramon groaned and ran his free hand through his stringy black hair.
     "What happened to Mark?"
     "He's occupied in the city of New York."
     "What about Ameline?" Ramon countered.
     "She's undercover in Brazil; there have been rumors about multiple Twisters hiding out under the protection of a cartel."
     Ramon snorted. He knew that Twisters were never under anyone's protection; not really. 
     "How urgent is this job, really? Couldn't you send a couple rank twos and be done with it? Tokyo is pretty freaking far man."
     Ramon heard an exasperated sigh come from his cellphone.
     "This job is extremely urgent; already there have been several casualties as a result of this Twister abusing her powers. We need to neutralize her quickly and effectively before the UN decides to cease funding us."
     Ramon stood up from his chair and walked towards his bedroom slowly.
     "Cut our funding? That's never happened, and you know that it's never gonna. Twisthunters are too valuable to stop paying." He held the phone to his shoulder with his head.
     "Ramon, there have been serious talks about dissolving the T.T.F. in the last year. Several countries like Spain, Russia, and the United States have been pushing the agenda that we're no longer needed."
     Ramon entered his bedroom. His bed was raggedy and old, and there wasn't a door separating it from the bathroom. He walked over to and opened the wooden trunk that held his hunting supplies. 
     "You know those countries are trying to legalize and weaponize Twisters, right?"
     There was silence on the other end of the phone.
     Ramon pulled out his revolver, silver-lined poncho and sombrero, his spiked boots, and several other miscellaneous supplies.
     "I'm not at liberty to discuss such theories with you."
     "I know." Ramon adjusted his poncho over his shoulders, before sitting on his bed and tugging his boots on. "It bothers me that people never learn."
     "That fact is bothersome to me as well."
     Ramon sat on his bed, fully dressed in his hunting gear, then sighed and rubbed the back of his head. There was a bald patch there, with only a few wisps of thin black hair growing over it. He winced slightly when he touched it, despite not feeling any pain.
     "Percy, if I do this job right, do you really think it'll prove that Twisthunters are a necessary thing?" Ramon mumbled. "I'll do it even if you say no, but I wanna know; if this goes well, will the UN keep us around?"
     There was another brief silence. Ramon could hear someone sighing and tapping on a desk.
     "Yes. If you can prove that Twisters are a threat that cannot be ignored, then I believe that will be sufficient to dissuade any further arguments to 'legalize Twisters,' at least for a few years."
     "That's good enough for me." Ramon stood up, shook himself off, and walked out of his bedroom into his kitchen. 
     He grabbed a small metal flask, then reached beneath his old sink and pulled out a small whiskey bottle to fill it with. Once the flask was full, he took a swig from the glass bottle and put it back under the sink. 
     "I can still hear you, Ramon." Came the voice from the cellphone.
     "I know." Ramon checked his satchel briefly, then nodded, satisfied with his hunting supplies. "You said 'her' earlier; is that a confirmed fact or standard procedure?"
     "Standard procedure; the identity of the Twister is not known to us at the moment."
     Ramon was quiet as he walked out of his shack and towards his slightly-rusted pickup truck.
     "If it's another girl, I won't be at my best." He tossed the cellphone into the passenger seat.
     The cellphone made no noise as Ramon hopped into his truck and started it; only once he was driving towards the highway did he hear Percy's voice again.
     "It's probably going to be a woman; you know the statistics. Approximately eighty five percent of Twisters are adult women aged-"
     "Aged eighteen to twenty five." Ramon finished, his voice weary. 
     His pickup truck made it onto the highway and he began driving towards Houston.
     "Perhaps I could delegate the job to some of our rank twos; you did just finish your vacation, after all." Percy said calmly. "It might require some string-pulling, but it wouldn't be impossible."
     Ramon sighed.
     "No, I can do this." His grip on the steering wheel tightened. "People never learn." He muttered. "The surgery is free in most countries, dang it." He snarled.
     "People can commit the most illogical actions, as you're well-aware."
     Ramon stomped the gas pedal to the floor as he sped West towards Houston.
     "Stupid parents. Stupid kids. Stupid governments."
     "Yes Ramon, I'm well aware of how stupid everyone is; however, before you go off on another one of your tirades, might I provide some more details about the job first?"
     Ramon looked out the windshield of his truck. The moon was a crescent, and it hung low over the horizon before him.
     "Fire away, Percy."