This was absolutely not what James wanted to deal with tonight. It was quite frankly the completely opposite. Sure, it wasn't the worst situation that James had ever been in but this was quickly becoming one of his most memorable yet.

Over the past year he'd been tasked with coming up with intel and evidence against a growing Mafia- the Black Mafia. It was notorious for leaving a black cat sigil wherever they went, and yet never being caught.

James had been coming very close to what he believed was a cracked case. Maybe he should've been more attentive to his surroundings. All his training taught him that the enemy chose the prime time to stike to have the most effect that they could.

But James had been caught up in all his peers needing him the most. They needed this win, needed a reminder that even the most slippery of cases could be cracked. James had been, admittedly, loving the attention that he received because of it.

And now he was definitely paying the price of his sloppy attention and weak observation skills. It had been easy, suspiciously easy in retrospect, to sneak into one of the Black's suspected warehouses.

James was still wincing from the fight but there had been four guys buffer than even himself. Maybe he should've taken back up but he was riding high on the thought of doing this himself. He really needed to fix his hero complex.

Suddenly, after what had felt like hours of walking with a bag over his head, James was shoved onto his knees. He'd tries to memorise the layout but there had been far too many twists and turns to keep track of it all. James bit his lip to not let out a pained sound as a flair shot through his knees.

The bad that had previously been over his head was yanked off, almost taking his glasses off with it. James should probably stick to contacts but they could install a mic into the frames on cases.

Infront of him was a man, a man with all the power in the world without even knowing his name. But James did know his name. The ringleader of the Black Mafia. Regulus.