“Ancient weapon?” I asked.

I hadn’t seen Agent Archer standing off to the side. “We watched when Stricken’s men responded to our dist—uhm…” Agent Stark was staring at him. “When that car blew up in the garage earlier. They had an old sword.”

“A sword? That’s it?” But then again, I’d already seen repeatedly that our forefathers had been very creative when it came to coming up with mystical ways to win this fight. Hell, I’d blown up an Old One with something originally conceived by Isaac Newton.

“A magic sword,” Archer corrected. “I identified it from our inventory roster. MCB’s been seizing mystical items since our founding. We’ve got a warehouse full of interesting things for study. STFU checked this one out and then locked down the rest of the collection. According to the write-up, this one was supposed to be able to banish otherworldly creatures. Too bad their plan didn’t work, probably since the monster wasn’t otherworldy enough when it was still attached to a human being.” Archer held up the broken hilt of what looked like an old Viking sword. “We found this still attached to the STFU man’s hand.”

Franks pointed at a long nylon case on the ground at his feet. “I stole more. Want one?”

“That’s it. Seize Agent Franks!” Stark ordered. All of the other MCB agents seemed really nervous, but none of them made a move. Having worked with Franks, I couldn’t blame them. I’d rather seize a rabid honey badger. “What are you waiting for? Place Agent Franks under arrest!”

Apparently Franks had finally had enough. He covered the distance in two big steps and grabbed Agent Stark by the throat. Stark reached for his pistol but Franks simply took it away and dropped it on the floor. The other agents were too shocked to do anything. Stark struggled, but Franks dragged him in and, almost gently, placed him in a choke hold.

While Stark struggled and gasped for air, Franks calmly began to give orders. “Archer, get comms up. Call air support. Pasztory, evacuate the locals. Jefferson, Liu, on heavy weapons. The rest of you find anyone who can fight. Meet out front in two minutes.” Stark was turning blue and flopping around from lack of air. Franks looked at his men, obviously displeased that they hadn’t snapped to.

“Uh…The director…You’re sorta…” Archer was trying to frame it as a question. “That’s not good…” He looked to the other agents for support, but they were all too aware of what Franks was capable of. “This is bad, isn’t it?”

Stark was finally unconscious. If Franks wanted to kill him he would’ve just snapped his neck. The big agent dumped his superior’s limp body on the ground. Stark lay there drooling down his cheek. “Move out.”