All Characters belong to Sega/Archie except my OCs.

Chapter 1

Emotions are overrated.

Seriously, they are man's worst enemy. Emotions force people to do things they don't want to do, feel things they don't want to feel, maybe even drive them to do things they never knew they were capable of… I like my way of dealing with those little feelings better than the old fashioned way. I only allow two emotions to run through my body – or at least I only carry two emotions. Anger and content. Those were the only ones I needed to pull off my act. The act of being normal – something of which is also overrated. Even now as I stared down at my tied up victim, who happened to be a buff drug lord, crying and begging for mercy I couldn't help but to be reminded of how being normal was pathetic. Normal meant that you had fear and fear was what makes people weak. I could never afford to let that demon emotion reach my heart. I refused to be any less than the strong man I have become.

I raised my knife which caused my victim to scream and writhe against the chains even more. I simply tilted my head at him. Sometimes I actually enjoyed their struggle. Sounds heartless, yes, but I don't have a heart. Or at least not mercy. Especially for people like him. Right now, I only felt annoyance rise as I watched this big, cold man whimper like a puppy. He had killed tons of people, ran his own gang, and ran an illegal drug business. It's so stupid that he would be scared of a tiny knife. Only in their dying days do people really show their true side and at the moment, this dude was showing how much of a coward he was. Usually, I liked to kill my prey slowly. Almost like a predator, I stalk them and then after I catch them I get to enjoy my prize. But not today. Instead I simply gave him a couple of painful stabs before slitting his neck to shut him up.

I hated to admit it but I was starting to get bored of the jobs assigned to me. Each task just got easier and easier. Get close to the enemy, get them alone, kill them and then make sure I cover up my tracks afterwards. I was starting to long for something more – a challenge or a distraction if that's the words I'm looking for. Anything to make the job more interesting.

"This is Agent Sonic reporting that Case 8972 has been carried out," I talked into my pre-programmed phone. After every completed task – or murder to be more blunt – I had to call in and let headquarters know what I had done. They only had me do this shit because no one else had the courage to do it. As I said before: normal is absolutely pathetic.

"Roger that," some other officer replied. "You are free to go, agent. Forensics will be there shortly to pick the body up."

"Alright." I looked down to the bagged body and shook my head. I remember the first time I completed a mission. I was 18 and had just been recruited into this assassin job for the government. I remember just beating the guy to a pulp. Then I may have stabbed him a couple times. Hell, I used any weapon I could find to inflict pain on this one corrupt politician. The only thing I didn't do was kill him quickly. No, I made sure that he died a slow and painful death. In my head, I thought I was doing it to avenge all the people that he had killed but instead my mentors had told me that it was the cause of everything I had built inside me. I was a monster. Most people would be ashamed of that but instead I embrace it. I wasn't going to run from who I was. I had done it enough when I was younger and I was too old to be doing it now.

After finishing up the cleaning at my little crime scene, I took a walk down through the Big Apple to get back to my apartment. The only good thing about working with the government as a secret assassin man was the fact that I got to explore the world. In the past four years, I had been basically everywhere in the United States. From Los Angeles, California to Orlando, Florida to Little Rock, Arkansas. I was good at adapting so that made things a hell of a lot easier when I moved from place to place.

I walked into my apartment to be greeted by my pug, Spike. The little dog jumped up from the couch and ran to me. I smiled down at him as I bent down to scratch him behind the ears. "Hey buddy," I told him. Spike had been my dog for as long as I could remember. He had to be one of the only things I was actually fond of. Since he was a dog, he loved me unconditionally and I eventually found that I liked his slobbery acts of affection. Usually, I hate being affectionate – especially to girls. Speaking of girls, I spotted a note on my kitchen counter from the girl I had hooked up with the night before. It said a basic Call Me with a smiley face next to it. I crushed the note up in the palm of my hand and threw it in the trash. Once again, I am a heartless bastard. But, it wasn't the fact that I was heartless in terms of wanting the affection of another human being but instead the idea of me liking my space. Girls got too clingy. When I was younger, I barely seriously dated a girl. In my mind, they were always just for my pleasures and nothing more. The only good thing with that was that in this day and age, most girls feel the same way about dudes.

I started a fire in my fireplace, the orange flames lighting up from the room. After settling down with a glass of scotch and Spike at my feet, I watched the flames as they danced across the wooden logs. I had always enjoyed watching fires. They were such a destructive force but a beautiful one. Sometimes it reminded me of myself. I destroyed people but yet I had the face of angel. What with my light green eyes, curly blue hair, long eyelashes, and tall, lean, muscular build, I could fool anyone into believing that I was a perfect man. But once they saw how empty I was inside then they would see the true demon that I was. That's a big part of why I enjoyed being alone. Without anyone around, I could be who I was and not be judged for it.

Suddenly, there was a light knock on my door. I sighed as I got up from my seat. I really hoped that it wasn't that stupid blonde who lived across the hall from me. She hadn't stopped trying to get into my pants since I moved in. Although I had thought about actually accepting her offer, her obsessive infatuation with me was annoying. To my relief, instead of the chatty blonde, I saw my main mentor Dexter Rodriguez. He had taken me in after my parents had died. Hell, he practically raised me since I was only about 4 or 5 when they died. He was also the only one who knew about my lack of emotions and helped me cope with it. When I was a child and just starting to realize my difference from other kids, he explained my condition as something that was rare and usually came from a traumatic experience. Apparently, since my parents were murdered in front of me, my mind repressed the memory and left me without any type of compassion. Dexter helped with it though by taking me out hunting and practicing at the shooting range. He knew I had to release my anger somehow so he made due. I owed my life to the guy not only because he threw away most of his young life for me but because if it weren't for him then I don't know what would have happened to me. Dexter wasn't exactly the kind of guy you would have expected to raise someone like me though. He was a short, jubilant Hispanic man who's overly happy and stupid jokes annoyed the hell out of me when I was younger. As I young adult now, I can to appreciate Dexter's humor and light aura. It was a good change from my always dark mood.

"Hey there son," Dexter said, giving me a hug. His voice was sort of high pitched and reminded me of how Santa Claus would sound if he were real. I always made fun of it as a child but Dexter only used it as inspiration to annoy me even more.

"Hola Dexter. How are you tonight," I asked him as I moved aside to let him in. He walked inside and bent down to play with Spike who had run to him.

"I am good. Very good, thank you. And how are you? I heard about your completed mission."

"Yes. It wasn't a very hard task. The dude cried like a baby." Dexter laughed and shook his head as he stood up.

"It's always the big ones who fall the hardest. Isn't that what they say?"

"Yup. Are you looking to stay for dinner? You can pick whatever take out you want. I just got home so I'm starving."

"Hmm, I think I'm in the mood for some Chinese food. You, you like Chinese food right? I can't remember the last time you ate something like that – or ate at all for that matter." I rolled my eyes at my father figure before walking into the kitchen to grab my house phone. I watched as Dexter made his way into the living room and turn on the basketball game as I called in for the food. Once I was done with that, I walked back out and sat down on the couch.

"So, do you have any information for me," I asked him. We both worked for the government but Dexter was always one step ahead of me and let me know what I was doing next.

"Yes, actually. You have a new job to do already." I raised an eyebrow as he took a small folder out of his coat pocket. He handed it to me in which I wasted no time in opening it. "It's a gang case. It should be simple for you but I will be assisting you."

"What's the story," I asked although I had already started reading the files in the folder.

"Manuel Castillo, a sectional leader of the Latino Cartel down in Mexico, has been getting out of control. Much more drug activity, murders and recruits going on down there. The people in the big house wants the section put down. They believe it's the first step in an attempt to take the entire Cartel down – which may or may not be possible in my opinion. The FBI also wants you to secretly stop their drug connections as well – before or after Castillo is dead. They don't care as long as it gets down." I nodded along with what Dexter said. The whole thing sounded pretty easy. I had taken on similar tasks concerning gang leaders and drug lords – the one I just completed as a prime example. None of them ever know what hit them.

"When do we leave," I asked.

"I already booked a flight for the morning." I nodded before hearing a knock at the door. Even though I knew who it was, I still made sure to have my hand on one of the weapons in my pocket. Working in the government means that you can't trust anyone – then again you can't really trust anyone at all. I paid the delivery man before walking back into the living room.

"Any other information you got for me?" Dexter leaned forward, his jovial face turning serious.

"Keep in mind that this gang is more elite than they're though out to be. We have to be very careful on this mission. And always remember what you're there to do. Never forget your task. That will always get you killed."

X

The next morning, I got up early and took a quick shower. After saying goodbye to Spike, I rushed down to the airport to meet Dexter and catch our flight down to Mexico. Of course, Dexter slept the whole time while I flirted casually with the girl next to me. Usual plane routine for the two of us. But something felt off when we arrived in Mexico. Although I couldn't feel much, I did feel something at the thought of this place. I mean, I knew that I did have a Hispanic background but I never knew the exact origin. Dexter made sure I was limited in finding information about my parents as a child. When my parents first died and I couldn't remember them, I had a lot of questions about who they were and why they had left me. But then I got older, lost interest and just left the whole situation alone. Of course, that was when Dexter was ready to tell me everything about them because he felt I was at an age that I would understand. I didn't want to know right then though. I promised myself that I would find out the truth eventually – and maybe on my own – and find out how it connected with my emotional condition at a later time. I had too much to focus on at the moment.

"Remember to be careful," Dexter reminded me as we were driving down the highway in our new Jeep. "This mission is very dangerous."

"I will be careful, Dexter. Don't worry so much. You'll give yourself wrinkles." Sometimes, I liked when Dexter got all strict and fatherly on me but other times I felt a bit bad. I could ever return the loved feeling and Dexter knows that – he understood what I was dealing with. But that didn't make me feel any better. Sure, I say feelings are overrated and that I enjoy not being subject to them but if I could just at least show Dexter that I love him in a familial way then I think I would be fine with that.

We pulled up to a giant beach house that laid right on the sand with a deck coming around the side and the back. Other large beach houses neighbored house, making the house – and our presence – more normal. I briefly explored the big house, just trying to get a feel for where we were going to be for a while. The only thing I could say to sum it all down was that it was the definition of a bachelor pad. The latest games stations and flat screen TVs and cool lights and a bar and everything else a dude could need was in this house. It was pretty cool. After my little tour around the house, I unpacked and changed out of my worn clothes. "Where are you going," Dexter asked as I passed him. He was sitting in the kitchen drinking some rum.

"I'm gonna go take a quick walk on the beach. I'll be back in a half hour, maybe an hour at the most." Dexter raised an eyebrow at me, his dark green eyes suspicious but he nodded his head and waved his hand. I took that as him giving me permission and headed out. It was sunset now, a soft breeze blowing lightly. It was going to be a beautiful night.

I, personally, had always enjoyed beaches and warm weather. Even when I was an irritable child, I always found comfort in the setting. I remember Dexter used to love taking me on vacations to various beaches every summer. Even after I turned 16 and began training with the FBI to become an agent two years later, he still found time to pull me away and let me have some fun. But when I actually started working, Dexter lost time to really do family things like that. Not because I was getting pulled away but because they piled work on him as well. They sent him on his own missions since I was 18 and legally able to take care of myself. But he made me go to college in between my tasks. So, I got a degree in Criminal Justice with a minor in Psychology. I also passed with a 4.0 GPA average. I guess you could say that I was a nerd back then.

I watched the sapphire waves as they rocked back and forth on the sand, silently reminiscing a time way before college. Back when I had no worries. Even though I had no emotions, I still lived on as if I did. I had friends, worked my ass off in school to do well, went to dances, and even did a couple stupid stuff to remind myself that I could be a normal teenager. My emotionless inside didn't change the way I could portray myself – it only helped how I do my job. The job I was on now seemed as if it would take some time. That meant that no attachment to anyway except Dexter whom I was already pretty attached to. Sounded easy – hell, it was easy. I had done it so many times before so why should this time be any different? I guess I didn't know it yet but this mission was going to take more out of me than I thought.

So, this is my other Sonamy piece. But take note: THIS IS NOT A REMAKE OF AMY'S MISSION. I do have to finish up TGW but I'll get that up soon so that I can continue this and my other story but first:

To Continue or To Delete?