The first Leiney's of the weekend had only just been cracked when someone started banging on the front door.
"Goddammit," he mumbled to himself. The national anthems were just starting and the game was going to start any minute. He'd been waiting all week for this game. The U.S. and Guatemala were playing a friendly before the Gold Cup started next week, and he had wanted to see who the gaffer was going to trot out to play. Whoever was going to start tonight would probably be first choice in the lineup when the tournament started.
Getting up from his new, custom made leather recliner, Axel Christensen crossed the living room and answered the door.
"You're kidding, right?"
Standing grimly before him were two individuals, one male and one female. They both wore dark gray suits and darkly shaded sunglasses, arms folded across their chests. He sighed. He knew he wasn't going to be seeing the game tonight.
"Okay, well you're obviously not the Men in Black," he continued, drily. "So what are you then, CIA, FBI, Homeland Security?"
The woman reached inside her suit coat and produced credentials for his inspection.
"Agent Maria Hill, Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. Dr. Christensen?"
"I suppose so. What can I do for you this evening, Agent Hill, and agent . . . ?"
"Agent Grant Ward, sir, Strategi--"
"Right, right, S.H.I.E.L.D.," he said, cutting off the second agent. "Nice name. Very re-assuring. What is it exactly you people need this evening? The game is starting here in a minute."
The woman considered his question. She had difficulty picturing Dr. Axel Christensen as either a distinguished scientist, nor obviously, as a seven foot tall beast-man. He seemed more like a . . . parking lot attendant . . . no matter. These super types were always a challenge to deal with at first, she mused to herself. In her growing experience, it was usually best to just remain professional and get down to business as quickly as possible.
What still surprised her to this day, though, was how nonplussed they always were when secret agents just showed up at their doors at night without any warning, and always with some bit of troublesome business . . .
"Dr. Christensen, a very knowledgable individual told us that a man of your unique scientific and occult background might be of some assistance with a matter of great national security."
"Who on earth pointed you people here, to this reservation, on a Friday night?"
"Dr. Ethan Brand, sir. He passed word to the director, who sent me here to find you, sir."
Goddammit, he thought to himself.
"You do realize you're wearing sunglasses at night, don't you Agent Hill?"
"Yes, sir. May we come in?"
"Oh, of course, come right on in," he replied and stepped back to let them through. As the agents walked through the door, he added "Either of you want a Leinenkugel's?"
(published July 3, 2013)
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