Chapter 3: Chapter III - J.E.X.
His appearance was plain, his demeanor unassuming, and his hair and clothes only barely put together at best. He may have quit the job because of his unhappiness, but his appearance had suffered from lack of care since. Jareth Eckhart Xex sighed and rubbed his eyes as he stared at what the two hosting this interview had unveiled. The 'items' that had been spoken of a few minutes ago were primarily weapons. A nice variety perhaps, and his muscle memory from when he was a service agent would help him wield any of them readily. Still, he hadn't been happy to see it.
Only two items didn't make sense to him. One was a pulsing automatic dog whistle, from Mr. Caleb's description. The other was a pair of gloves that helped create an echo. What the hell good were those items? Definitely not banking, he was starting to feel that this was another job involving battle and bloodshed. He considered throwing in the towel here, but two things stopped him. His best friend was to his right, and he wasn't leaving his buddies' potential corpse behind knowingly. The other was his desperate need for funds.
Having been a trained service agent had given him an edge, but also distanced him from all but his friend who helped him discover this odd job from a flyer posted about the nearby mall. Both had thought it sounded like easy enough money, and since his friend had some skill with money, they both applied and began to exchange lessons to help them get farther. Now here they both were on the same day, at the same time, looking at a loaded serving platter full of weaponry and noise makers. The .45 and the Glock both pulled his attention, his eyes ignoring the scimitar, sawed-off semi-automatic shotgun, and after a moment, the high-powered grenade launcher. The hell was this sociopath thinking?!
He sighed then reached out to pick up the .45, deciding it best to leave the slightly less powerful glock for his buddy who had zero military or security background. The most he'd done was try out J.E.X.'s handgun for some self-defense practice at home. If they realistically needed to use the weapons, it would be best if he helped cover his friend and maybe the female if she was struggling with whatever was coming their way. No civilians would be killed while he was present, even if he now qualified as a civilian.
His fingers drummed out an unsteady rhythm as he slid his other hand to the array of weapons. Touching each gently, he considered which would suit him and the other two best. He frowned, then nodded as he looked at the options then at his two current cohorts in this madness. The lady should probably use the Glock, seeing as the other options were likely going to be to confusing or powerful for her. As for Brady, he'd have to suggest the Scimitar.
He reached out and hesitated above the .45, then relented and picked up the sawed-off. At least he'd know that the less experienced compatriots here would have stable options. Best to provide coverage with options and feelings of security than by simply doing all the work. He looked over at Caleb's face, then at his sister's before asking the required question. Or so he thought. "Are we in league with an underground operation?"
Lenore smiled, then laughed brightly at the question with surprise and delight in her eyes. "Wow, that's a fun idea! Still, I have to nip that one and let you know that that's not right. We're not the Mafia, Yakuza, gun runners, or Black Market, Mr. Xex. What we do is completely legal, if not a little more complicated than those operations. Alright brother, let's bring out the jar!"
Jareth froze, swallowing softly as he felt sweat breaking out on his forehead. What the devil did they need weapons for that was contained in a jar?! He eyed the siblings as they each picked up an item off if the tray...and neither was a weapon. Lenore took the automated dog whistle, while her brother took the gloves. He...THEY had made a dangerous error.
Whatever it was didn't like noise. Guns would create noise, but it would be in short sharp bursts. Caleb's and Lenore's were more long-term sounds. He also knew that on a field of battle, you only got one chance to pick. After that, you had to scramble for discarded or lost items. This was about to get very ugly.
As Caleb lifted a velvet covered jar that was about a foot tall, he arched an eyebrow. Then he felt his stomach lock up as the velvet was removed. Brady started before leaning forward to study the jar through his glasses, and the girl shivered gently. It looked like it contained spiders, but there was just something wrong with them. They didn't move properly. A limb even rose up from the mass of creatures to press against the lid, before returning to the churning of limbs and inky blackness.
He was clueless, but he understood one thing. These things could NOT be allowed to get close to them. No matter what, these things had to die here and now. His mind was screaming this at him as Caleb reached for the steel screw-cap. "You might want to back up and get ready. ...This is test number three. Good luck, kittens."
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