Hades' Men Corp
Thorne POV
The headquarters of Hades’ Men Corp is located in downtown San Jose, occupying the top eight floors of a skyscraper that we remodeled to fit our needs. Many veterans struggle to readjust to civilian life, and we were no different. After being trained and molded to be protectors, to be the best, it was extremely challenging to consider working conventional jobs, so we decided to open a private security company.
Our former special operations unit was nicknamed Hades’ Men, and we lived up to the name. We were the knights of Hades, the God of Death, serving as his right hand. Our missions put us face-to-face with terrorist groups, and we followed orders to protect national security. My unit was called in when there were no other options. The things I was forced to do and see will stay with me forever. My Marine Corps file is practically all redacted. Confidential.
When it came time to name our corporation, it was easy. We leveraged the reputation we earned among various military divisions to establish ourselves as a respected company, ranking in the top 3 of the national private security industry. Our goal is to provide opportunities for men and women like us and continue using our skills to protect those in need.
“Good morning, Mr. Thorne,” Zach, the security guard, greets me as I pass my badge to unlock the turnstile in the spacious main hall.
“Good morning. How’s little Isabella?”
“Much better. The fever broke last night, and when I left this morning, she was driving her mother crazy.”
“That’s great to hear. If you need anything, you know how to reach me,” I say, parting ways and heading to the elevators.
“Have a good day, sir.”
I head straight to the top floor where the administrative area is located, which includes three offices, two conference rooms, and the human resources department.
As soon as I enter my office, the phone rings. I quickly move around the long dark wood desk to answer.
“Thorne.”
“Good morning, Sergeant Thorne.” I recognize the grave tone of Sergeant Artillery Jefferson, and I feel my shoulders automatically straighten. “I’ve sent over five profiles for review.”
“Yes, sir.” It’s impossible to change how I address one of my former superiors, even though I am no longer his subordinate. As they say, there’s no such thing as an ex-Marine; once you are one, you always will be. “When is the delivery arriving?”
“It should be within the next half hour. The candidates’ profiles are from Hades’ Men, and your active service time is nearing its end.” I nod, knowing he can’t see. We only hire veterans, but we check their backgrounds to ensure that only the best are under our command.
“Understood. Thank you, sir. Do you need anything else?”
“That you, Donahue, and Martinez get back to work.”
“We are working, sir,” I reply with a smile, knowing that if he were here, I would never risk it.
Hearing him sigh before replying, I can almost sense the smile in his voice.
"Insufferable. I don’t even know why I still want you back."
"We are the best, sir."
"The best at testing my patience. I expect a position on the candidates by tomorrow."
"Yes, sir. Have a good day, sir."
"See you tomorrow, Thorne."
As expected, the messenger arrived within the designated period, delivering the files and requiring my signature before leaving. I’m puzzled as to how I ended up handling all the administrative tasks for Hades’ Men Corp. Raffi only shows up for classes and training, and he only attends meetings after a lot of prodding. Seth is here every day, from early until late, but his focus is also on teaching. Of the three of us, he has the most diverse and numerous classes.
My eyes are already burning from reading when my phone vibrates with a message.
Sunshine: Hi, Ky! I need a favor.
I check the time and realize she should be at school. Did something happen? Without finishing the thought, I’m already dialing her number.
She answers laughing, and I smile in response, swiveling my chair to face the panoramic city view from my office while listening to her sweet voice.
"What do you need, Sunshine?" I ask, curious. Whenever I use the nickname, I remember the first time I called her that. I had just returned from my first tour, nine months on a ship, and Brooke was sitting on the steps in front of her house. The moment I got out of the cab, she ran toward me, hugging me with the brightest smile I had ever seen.
And it was like that every time I came back from a tour; she was there. No matter the day or the hour. Brooke Roberts was always waiting for me, sitting in the same spot, and as soon as I got out of the car, her arms would wrap around me, and everything was worth it. Everything I had done and seen. Because she was safe. Brooke was the ray of sunshine in my darkness. And I had sworn to protect her. The only time she wasn’t waiting for me was when I managed to come back early to surprise her, but as soon as she saw me, she ran into my arms.
She tells me she wants tickets to the Underworld, and I roll my eyes. She knows she doesn’t need to ask, or at least I thought she did. The club is one of the biggest in the city, created out of Hades’ Men Corp’s need for a discreet location to meet clients who required confidentiality. Some clients who hire our services prefer to keep their reasons for seeking protection private. Therefore, the club features a spacious dance floor, a mezzanine with a VIP area, and three private rooms for meetings.
“Oh, you know just my closest friends, about 37 people,” she jokes, and I immediately know who will be with her. Her best friend Liv and Patrick, her boyfriend. For some reason, I don’t like the guy. As far as I know, he’s never done anything to trigger the disdain I feel for his existence, but there’s something about the way he talks that makes me think of a snake slithering.
She says her goodbyes, and I smile again before returning to work. Talking to Brooke was like recharging my batteries, and I feel energized enough to tackle the rest of the reports.
"Kyle?” I look up from the documents of the last candidate on the list and see Seth, who should be heading to his office to shower after a martial arts class, judging by his clothes and the sweat on his face. “Are you busy, man?”
“Just reviewing the potential new recruits that Sergeant Jefferson recommended.”
“Do we have a new list?” he asks, walking into my office and pulling out one of the cream-colored folders. His blue eyes scan the document. “Interesting, she would be a great addition to the team,” he comments, returning the file of the Army recruit to the desk.
“How was the class?” I ask.
“It was good, no incidents, but remember those three guys who came in a few months ago? In today’s session, we had free training, and I fought with them. I noticed they have a lot of anger built up.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, frowning. It’s not uncommon for military personnel who have been in combat to have anger issues; it’s part of post-traumatic stress.
Seth lifts his shirt and already has a black bruise forming on his ribs.
“Are you okay?” I move around the desk to take a closer look.
“I’m fine.” He shrugs without even wincing. “One of them immobilized me and landed three punches in the same spot, expecting me to give up.” Seth’s mischievous smile indicated their mistake. “But I reversed the position and put him in a chokehold that made him tap out instantly. I think they need to see the psychologist team.”
“I’ll pass on your contacts to the team and ask them to do a preliminary assessment, but I don’t recall anything in their backgrounds that would indicate a need.”
“I might be wrong, Ky.”
“I trust your instincts, Seth. You’re the best among us at reading people,” I admit, blocking out the images of why and how he acquired that skill.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to your stuff. I’ve got a knife class in…” he pulls out his phone before continuing, “20 minutes and I’d rather not show up all sweaty. See you later.”
“Try not to use any students as targets; we have mannequins for that.”
“I make no promises.” He leaves laughing.
I return to the computer and open the files of the men Seth mentioned, rereading and trying to find something I might have missed earlier.