by James Hunt
Just before his final days as a field agent, Branston had heard the whispers coming from a few of the recruiting agents. They’d said they’d found a young woman, unlike anything any of them had seen before. He would have taken it as nothing more than talk, but he knew the recruiters intimately, and they had been in the business nearly as long as he had been alive at the time. So when they spoke, he listened.
The girl in question was currently at the training facility in the Midwest. And seeing as how he had been grounded from missions during his last three weeks with the agency, he had decided to go out and take a look for himself. And it was a moment that changed his life.
At first glance, the girl looked scrawny, much smaller than he had pictured. She’d had his back to him when he approached the observation glass, readying herself for the simulation. It was what the techs called a “hot run,” meaning that it was done with live ammunition on both sides of the aisle. It was the first of a series of tests to finalize an agent’s preparedness for the field.
He examined the way she chose the weapons for the run and was impressed that she went the minimalist route, a pair of .45-caliber Colt 1911s, spare magazines, explosives, and Kevlar pants, boots, and jacket. He remembered thinking that she was cocky, and he also remembered how much he liked it.
When the girl turned, he got a good look at her face. She was young, the fresh dew of spring still sprinkled on her face. But he’d be damned if she didn’t look like a woman who would slit your throat without remorse. There was anger there, deep and eternal. Her green eyes were focused, and when she moved, there wasn’t a motion that wasn’t purposeful. She was efficient.
The timer started, and he watched her go through the motions. She was fast, she was stronger than she looked, and she never missed a single shot. When it was all said and done, she’d broken every record. All of which were owned by him.
But that wasn’t what had drawn him to her. Branston knew it was only a matter of time before someone broke those records—in fact, he had been looking forward to the day. No, what had connected him to her was the smile on her face not when she was done, but during the fight. It was rare to find an individual that had equal pillars of skill and pleasure. She loved it. She bathed herself in it. And she couldn’t get enough.
And so Branston had kept tabs on her during her career. Meddling in her affairs when he could but for the most part keeping his distance. But the longer he stayed in retirement, the more he realized he didn’t want to quit the job he loved so much. He could still perform. He was still useful. The idea of nursing homes and golfing made him sick to his stomach. But causing a little mayhem? He enjoyed that idea immensely.
It had started small. Giving local law enforcement a challenge by knocking off a bank, vandalizing some type of public utility. Each time he didn’t get caught the next crime was a little bigger, and after a while he discovered what he had been missing all of his life. Control.
Most people didn’t enjoy control, and the ones that did, most weren’t good at it. But he enjoyed it, and he was very good at it. It made sense, though—he was the only field agent in the history of the GSF to hold both records in support and field agents at the same time. Which he also learned had been broken by Sarah’s former partner.
The more he watched her, the more he realized what an opportunity like the two of them being alive at the same time represented. Titans on earth, born from the earth and meant to rule it. And so Branston had engaged Sarah twice. The first was Global Power. The second was Black Box. Both of which she’d conquered, but both of which had weakened her. She no longer had the GSF. She no longer had the support of a family. All that was left was her. And that was exactly what Branston wanted.
Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story!
Writing has always been a passion of mine and it’s incredibly gratifying and rewarding whenever you give me an opportunity to let you escape from your everyday surroundings and entertain the world that is your imagination.
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Again, thank you so much for letting me into your world. I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I did writing it!
Take care,
James Hunt
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