by Justin Bell
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"Are you fucking kidding me?" Agent Grace hissed. He looked out his office window and saw a flying body hurtling from the third floor pane of glass, tumbling down to the hard ground below.
"Insanity."
Grace turned and Director McKie stood there, shaking his head. "This man is unstoppable, Agent Grace. I don't know whether to congratulate you or have you fired!"
Agent Grace worked hard to stifle a smile at his superior officer's frustration. "Director, there is plenty of blame to go around, and I assure you this man will not leave this building alive."
"That's all well and good, Agent. What are we supposed to do until then? What happens when some shmuck out there shoots smartphone video of a dude being tossed from a fucking window?"
"Director?" Agent Grace started to say, but didn't get a chance to finish.
"No, I'm done with this, Agent. This is your problem. You clean it up. I'm getting out of dodge."
Director McKie turned and walked out the door. Moments later, he was in the small NSA chartered helicopter on the roof of the building and was airborne.
McKie was gone, the enemy was at the gates, yet Richard Grace's face split into a broad, welcoming smile.
