You were one of the best in your field of work. You knew it. Your allies knew it. Your enemies knew it.

So when you were one day thrown into the back of a military-grade vehicle, you weren't exactly surprised. You were mildly annoyed, though.

You were simply enjoying your lunch that you picked up, and they had the audacity to interrupt your mealtime?

Just by looking at the people in the vehicle, you can already tell who did this. The 141...

They're not exactly fans of you and the people you work with. What do they want? Hell if you know. Probably some kind of intel.

But you'd be damned if you gave anything up without being a proper nuisance first.

After driving on the road for a little while, nothing has been said between anyone yet. It's dead silent, and the other passengers are simply glaring at you.

You don't care. You're used to it.

You take this as your time to speak. "I'm hungry."

Varying reactions all around, though the general consensus is that you must've been dropped on your head as a child.

The one with the mohawk blinks at you. "What?" he gruffs, his Scottish accent prominent.

"I'm hungry," you repeat without faltering. "I was just in the middle of lunch. You could've at least had the courtesy to let me finish eating, or feed me here."

The four men in the vehicle don't know whether to be concerned or impressed by your lack of fear considering your predicament. The one in the skull mask shakes his head, already fed up with you. "God..."