I stretch my legs out and place my feet up in Zero’s desk. He can’t kill me for it, he’s not here. I made sure of it.
I thumb through the stack of files I’d asked Ninety-one to get me. They’re a stack of personal profiles for four agents. Specifically, the four agents I’m being forced against my will to work with it. At least now (since Zero didn’t feel the need to share) I’ll know what I’m dealing with. That’s the first reason I’m in here, to read over the files in peace . . . and to piss Zero off.
I pick up the first folder in the stack and open it up, laying the file out across my lap as I start to read it.
Agent 22, Devin (No last-name is listed, though that isn’t really a surprise, a lot of agents didn’t like to list their last-names). Nineteen years of age. Looking at his pictures, he has curly golden blonde hair that could use a trim, deep blue eyes, and freckles dotting his cheeks. He’s just over six feet, suntanned, and is muscled and toned as all agents are. Devin’s listed as being the lowest ranking agent in terms of fighting on the team. That’s not to say he can’t fight. He most definitely can. It’s just that when it comes to the rest of the team he’s slightly behind in fighting skills. I think that’s odd considering he’s had more lessons on various fighting techniques than anyone else on the team. He also started training at a much younger age than most agents. There were pages and pages of complaints written by superior and fellow agents about Devin and his . . . hobbies, if you could even call them that. Apparently, he has an unnatural fascination, and talent, for making things explode and also happens to be a huge prankster. Those two combinations spelled disaster for pretty much everyone. I would know. I’d known someone who was ten times worse than him.
All in all though, he didn’t seem like a bad guy. Plus, I figure he’ll be entertaining, to say the least.
I put his file back down on the desk and pick up the next one. I pause as I hear chatter start up in the room belonging to Delta Team 2. I turn to Zero’s computer and crank up the volume so I can hear it better.
The second reason I’m currently camped out in Zero’s office. He’d bugged practically every room in the agency (like the paranoid freak he is. It’s like he can sense how close I am to plotting his murder) and the only access point to hear any of it, was in his office. So I’d gone through his computer and picked out the audio for the bugs planted in Delta 2’s room. This way I could hear just how happy they were with their current situation.
If the angry grumbling was any indication, they weren’t happy.
I decide to ignore them for the time being and go back to looking at the second file.
Agent 80, Chase Golding. Twenty-two years old. His pictures show him with short dirty blond hair, light blue-green hazel eyes, light skin, and stubble along his jawline. He is taller than the rest of the team, just as muscled but slimmer. More agile. Chase is listed as the leader of the team and that makes me groan out loud. I mean, I know that all teams have their leaders, but that doesn’t mean I like dealing with any of them. I’ve had enough dealings with team leaders to last a lifetime. All leaders are the same. Bossy, take charge and can sometimes-ok most of the time-act like an arrogant ass. Chase might be an exception. Emphasis on might. According to his file, he’s the kind of agent to always go by the book. To follow the rules. Chances of us working together and getting along are going down the drain the more I read into his file. I don’t follow the rules, and I don’t like being told what to do. I figure he’s sort of like the dad of the team. If there is such a thing. He keeps everyone else in line and looks out for them. He rarely loses his temper apparently (of course, after reading over Devin’s file, I wonder how he’s never blown a gasket yet) and he never questions his superior agents.
I hate him already.
I toss his file on top of Devin’s and pick up the next one. Vaguely I’m listening to Delta 2 go back and forth with each other, grumbling about working with another agent and speculating about who it could possibly be. I narrow my eyes at the computer when I hear one of the agents let out his opinions on the kind of agent they’re going to be working with. Listening to their conversation, I catch his name. Cody.
I let out a sigh and go back to reading the file in front of me.
Agent 65, Jason Smith. Twenty years old. Pictures show short black hair that seems to spike up slightly on top, dark chocolate brown eyes, slightly darker skin tone but that could just be a tan from being in the sun. Hard to tell. He isn’t as tall as Chase, but he’s close. There’s a scar that runs down a good length of his arm. From his shoulder to the center of his forearm. Supposedly there’s also another scar on his chest. According to his file, he’d been involved in a training exercise gone very wrong a few years ago, and he still has the scars to prove it. His file lists him as having almost the same temperament as Devin, just not as extreme. He is fairly easy going and mostly keeps to himself. He’s more cautious than the others and is also a master at getting in and out of places that were otherwise labeled as impossible to get in to. He’s also very, very good with a gun.
Something about him sets me on edge, but he seems perfectly fine, so I push those feelings aside and reach for the last folder.
Agent 9, Cody Torrens.
Ah, so here you are you judgmental ass.
Nineteen years of age. His pictures are pretty good. I’m surprised, I was expecting red skin and horns. Dark brown hair, grey eyes that appear to be black in some lighting, and a darker skin tone probably from some Hispanic genes somewhere in his ancestry. About the same height as Jason from what I can tell, but I’m not a hundred percent sure. If his file is anything to go by, I would’ve thought I’d be getting along with him the most. Problems with authority, constantly standing up to and questioning Zero, and then going on to get in trouble with Chase. Out of what I’ve read of the four of them, I’ve actually been starting to like him the best. Now, after hearing all the nice things he has to say about me, I was seriously considering driving a knife through his skull. Apparently, the problems with authority spreads to me too. Not like I want to be in this situation any more than he does. He’s overall a very good agent, and he’d probably be a lot better if he wasn’t constantly getting trouble. Stealth is listed as one of his strong suits, along with hand-to-hand combat.
The file should have mentioned that he also had an attitude problem as well as the problems with authority if the conversation I was listening in to is any indication. I can think of one word that describes him perfectly, and it isn’t very nice.
I glance at the time on Zero’s computer. Time to go. I close all the folders and stack them neatly at the edge of his desk. I log out of his computer and swing my feet back on the floor. I stoodand walked out of his office and continued on through the halls to get to the airfield.
Well boys, let’s get this show on the road.