Mithias slammed on the breaks and cut off the road. Throwing the machine in park, he placed his feet on the ground and turned off his engine. He knew it was the real Magnus. Nobody at SOLDIER would fuck with him like this, and he knew Rhyss's voice. Nonetheless, someone had sold out to Magnus' benefit, putting Mithias at risk. He was furious, and at the same time, curious.
"You're a sick animal, Magnus. What do you want?"
Route 40 flew by beneath his wheels as the ex-soldier agent rode a shiny black motorcycle westward toward Oklahoma City. Mithias loved the open road, and out here in the great plains of the Midwest was the best driving in the world. The air smelled so clean. So much land and sky around him seemed untouched by civilization. It was invigorating. The longer he rode, the farther back the war seemed, leaving his dead past behind him. He had left SOLDIER and relocated to another home, yet it wasn't his only one. A vampire with any experience knew the importance of obscurity, he had to be able to vanish from the watchful spies of human society. Even Mithais had his secrets.
The engine rumbled comfortably onward. Soon, once near the city, Mithias would enact his plan. With any luck, his performance would pay off. If not, then there would be no loss. This would work. He knew. He just felt it.
Somewhere, in the middle of nowhere, a tone sounded in his helmet. Who would be calling him? Mithias glanced at the blinking light on his dashboard for a long moment, and jsut as the call was about to be lost, he flipped the switch.
"Would this be a Mithias Varomere I am speaking to, one from the Elite branch of SOLIDER?" Magnus asked.
Mithias lagged on the accelerator and stared ahead as he tried to recall the owner of that voice. He couldn't. "...To whom am I speaking?"