Lightning Cloud

Specialis Necessitatibus

After what seemed like an eternity, Thiago finally got out of bed. It was very rarely that he felt this tired, but he had been unable to catch any sleep on the plane. He reached for the glass of water lying on his bedside and downed it in one gulp. Then he proceeded on to the bathroom. 

Half an hour later he was sitting on his table munching a croissant and sipping orange juice on his patio. There was a slight breeze blowing, and the weather was quite cool. He closed his eyes momentarily to enjoy the breeze... Then he shook himself awake. There would be time for relaxation later, but he had some business to deal with first. He finished his breakfast, washed his dishes, locked up the house and proceeded to the nearby market, on foot.

He checked the map on his phone. He did not use Google Maps to get around, which was a fine way of learning about your surroundings but unfortunately did not show the kind of shops he had in mind.  Rather, he had a specially programmed map, made for him by the agency he used to work for, which catered to his more, dangerous needs. He stepped into an innocent looking barber shop, made his way to the  woman at the counter and repeated the words that he had just memorized from the display of the map,"I am a man of specialis necessitatibus."

Without saying a word, the woman beckoned him to follow her and led him to a door at the back of the room. She opened it and took him inside a room with many boxes full of equipment. They went to the front left corner of the room, where she suddenly halted. Lifting up one of the boxes she revealed a small trap door built into the floor. She pointed to the door and said,"I'm sorry to hear about your specialis necessitatibus. Perhaps you can find help in there."

Satisfied, Thiago stepped inside. Had the woman changed a single word in her sentence, he would have walked away and never returned.

Closing the door behind him, he turned around and came face to face with the most ferocious looking face he had ever seen.

The man standing opposite him looked to be in his forties, with white blond hair and a fang earing dangling from his left ear. His face-what a face! Lit by the single bulb hanging, it was the kind of face that belonged on the head of an interrogator; it would instill fear into anyone who gazed upon it. He had bloodshot eyes that angrily took in his form, the eyes being completely black like dark pools that revealed nothing about the man who had them. Every single inch of him was muscle- huge, bulging, almost unreal muscles. He looked like he lifted ten ton weights for fun, and then crushed them with his bare hands. Even a man like Thiago, who had seen horrors most men couldn't even dream of, was unsettled by him. Yet, he did not let it show in his face. Business was at hand.

The muscle-clad man spoke first, growling,"What do you want in here?"

Thiago calmly replied,"I am here to purchase some nugas." 

The man stared intensely into his eyes, as if daring him to flinch. Thiago returned his gaze firmly, and after a few moments, the face of ferocity became a friendly face as he smiled and introduced himself," I'm Francis. Pleased to meet you then.' He put up a hand to shake.

Thiago felt the muscles in his stomach unclench as he breathed freely and replied, with a smile of his own," Thiago. The pleasure is mine."

"Yes...,"Francis turned on the light, illuminating a room with shelf upon shelf of the most delicious looking arsenal one could think of.

Thiago smiled. He was in his element for the first time since coming to the States, purchasing guns and equipment... He stepped forward and began to browse through them. He did not need anything large, simple home defence would do, but one could never be certain of anything. His old profession had taught him that.

An hour later, when he had made his selections, he turned to Francis and asked,"Why use that language as a code?"

Francis grinned, a fearsome upward twist of his lips, and answered, chortling,"Well, it's a dead language, ain't it? The irony of it, huh?"

Thiago felt a similar grin crease his face, then allowed himself a small laugh. Indeed, the irony if it.  He gave him half the amount, the rest to be given upon delivery, shook hands with the bullish man once more, and made his way out.

Upon returning home, he saw a small reception committee awaiting his arrival. Among them he could see Michelle, sulking slightly next to two people he assumed to be her parents, along with at least a dozen others.

Neighbours. Great. Thiago rolled his eyes slightly, then made his way forward. He had made a chioce, now it was his duty to live with the consequences just as much as the benefits.

He walked across the driveway and went up to meet them.

Michelle's father stepped up. He unlike his daughter had brown hair and grey eyes, though it was evident that Michelle had gotten her slightly upward nose and dimples from him. He was not bad looking, and even now he could see a few of the women eyeing him discreetly, muttering to themselves and giggling faintly.

Thiago smiled and stepped forward as well.

Michelle's father put up a hand and introduced himself," I'm Mark Adams. Michelle's father. She's told us a little bit about you."

He replied,"Yes, I know a little bit about you too, from her."

Mark exclaimed,"Well, it's too hot a day to be standing out here in the sun! Let's head up to my place and have lunch, and we'll get acquainted with our new neighbour there."

Muttering assent, everyone began to march in the direction of the Adams' house. Thiago went up to Michelle and growled," I knew I would have a welcoming party, but with this many people?"

Michelle laughed quietly and replied,"Well, that's what you get for picking this neighbourhood to live in, from all the other neighbourhoods in America!"

In the distance, a man watched the him through the lens of a high powered sniper rifle. Watching as he made his way to his neighbours, he smiled. He felt like God at that moment, having the power to end Thiago's life with just a flick of his index finger, but he knew that action would cause more trouble than it was worth, and in any case, if his  organisation's plan succeeded, he would end up dead anyways. His superiors had made it clear that his only job was to watch, not act. And he would do just that, to the best of his ability. He zoomed further and saw him speaking to a teenage girl, maybe sixteen years old, and thought,"Brilliant. A weakness I can exploit." Smiling, he put down his rifle and picked up his phone, prepared to give his daily report to his handler.

specialis necessitatibus(Latin, lit. special needs)

nugas(Latin, lit. toys)