⚔︎Leader Of Evils⚔︎
Pushing out a breath he fell back onto one of the chairs outside of the office. After he sat he actually felt just how tired he was, also a couple of stings ran through him. He did get a lot of hits back, and now he was starting to feel them. Still having all of his field gear on, he looked down to his hands as they were battered up and his knuckles were sore.
Conner knew that this was it, going against even one of your fellow agents was bad, but he did a /lot/. There was no way he was going to stay in the CIA any longer. They had to have seen the whole thing, and he probably got told on. Which used to happen a lot. The others loved getting him in trouble because the CIA kissed his ass. They wanted him punished but they were never really satisfied.
Exhaling out a breath, everything came tumbling down on him. This time he really screwed up. Going up against and fighting his own, and losing Damian the day before all of that. Leaving a hollowness in his chest and having his rage get the better of him. Countless times did he let that happen, but this time was the worst.
His temper made him lose someone he not only cared for and needed there but fell in love with. Now he was gone and Conner didn't blame him. He went off on a blind rage and didn't stop or want to stop until he was the last one standing.
Now he was to get thrown out of the CIA for good. He didn't blame /them/ either. If he could, Conner would run away from himself and his temper as well. Just like the others.
Rolling his eyes he leaned forward and dropped his head. But only to raise it back up again as he heard to door open. He slowly stood up and walked into the office, still having heaviness in his footsteps. He didn't glance around or anything and when asked to sit he simply shook his head and refused. Stepping back he kept his arms to the side and hands where they could be seen. Not wanting to look like he could pose any threat. By that time he was just ready to get out of there once and for all.
"Conner Link McAlister, with the behalf of the Executives of the New York Central Intelligence Agency. We hereby promote you to Director."
Blinking rapidly, Conner had never been more thrown off in his life. He wasn't sure what he just had heard. It made no sense, he couldn't wrap his head around it. This wasn't real life that was happening before him right then.
He had got done going on a blind rage, attacking not only the enemy but his own colleagues. And he didn't want to quit for a second. He had shot people down from both sides, probably some were even fatal. That was a serious offense, it should be unforgivable. He should be literally tossed out of the door. That made the least bit of sense, not to be promoted, not to Director.
"What?! A-are you sure you have the right person? Did ya not see what I just did?!"
Conner belted out finally. Completely confused and uncertain about, /everything/ now. Nothing added up. Getting set back a little as the woman behind the desk spoke back out.
"Oh, we saw the entire thing. We're highly impressed by the performance of someone so young. None of us have seen that much skillset in someone your age."
"Impressed?! Are ya all fuckin' insane?! I went against my own! I know for a fact that it ain't allowed at all!"
They were unbelievable, Conner went against his own and they still were worshiping the ground he walked on. He literally could do anything and they would love him for it. All of it was extremely frustrating, he still wasn't seen as a person. Now it was if he were some kind of 'chosen one' which was only that much worse.
Others have gotten punished even some kicked out for going against their own. Never praised or promoted. Conner figured those days ended when Jones was sent away. But, the higher-ups were just as bad as she was. Right there they continued to prove his point. Conner was no Director at all, he didn't even want to call himself an agent anymore.
"We know what you've done and the offense of it all. However, we've decided to look past that. You're just what we need to build this base back up again."
Conner only rolled his eyes in response before the Executive continued.
"Not just your skillset on the field. You are a person who places others before himself. With that alongside your force, you could be an excellent Director. The one we've been looking for."
That last sentence drove Conner up the wall. This was pretty much the same speech Jones had told him for him to be recruited. He wasn't anything they've been looking for, he was just a person. A thing no one there saw from him.
Shaking his head he looked down and then back up again.
"Look, no it ain't gonna be a thing. Just do what ya gotta do and lemme go. Erase my memory of the last five years if ya gotta I don't care."
Of course, he cared if they've done that. He wasn't even sure why he actually let that out of his mouth. It was the last thing he wanted really. Yet at the same time, he still didn't want to be promoted.
"The other base does that, not this one. It is inhumane."
Conner scoffed at the nerve of her saying that. They didn't know what humane meant as much as the other base. Sure they didn't do the erasing thing, but they weren't any better. Conner was the living proof of that.
Stopping for a moment he thought things through. They weren't letting him go but an idea did pop up in his mind. If he were to be Director, he was free to leave at any given time. They had the freedom to do that. Agents had to risk becoming rogue and the possibility of the base going after them to take them down or bring them back.
Yet as a Director that was hardly the case. They decide who they recruited, who came and who went.
Conner remembered seeing Jones do that all the time. She refused to bring in anyone after Conner, but she let go of a lot all on her own terms. In that circumstance, it seemed that was Conner's only real way out. Stepping back again he crossed his arms, playing along and having her think it was what she said that drove him to it.
"Fine. I'll be the new Director."
He couldn't really believe the words coming out of his own mouth, but there they were. Clear as day in the air. No turning back now, or that was what he wanted them all to think. In all honesty, he could also humor himself. Conner wasn't in the right headspace right then. After losing Damian, he felt as if he couldn't think for himself anymore.
Damian was the voice of reason, the calm one, the one with the knowledge and experience to not let the CIA get to them.
Once it was finalized they sent Conner down to the ground floor. He was to spend a couple of days in the Executive building as the base was getting cleared out. There was no one there anymore. Conner was going to have to rebuild everything from scratch and that was, of course, terrifying him.
He tried to but ended up not getting much sleep that night. All he could think about was what happened. His mind replayed Damian walking out on him, over and over vividly. The more he replayed it the more he hurt. He felt so lost, confused, and all alone. Now he was supposed to be in charge of the entire CIA base.
All by himself, he was still so young and had no idea what he was even doing. He couldn't ask for help, they would only tell him how great he was and how well he was doing. Just little puppets saying the same phrases again and again. The expectations were skyrocketed, the pressure was bearing down on him with intense pressure, all of it was eating him alive and he was alone.
With pretty much no sleep at all, Conner had been woken up to head to one of the offices. There he had to sit and sign countless papers to signify that he was to be the newest Director of the New York City base. Following that he had gotten himself cleaned up and they took him over to get fitted.
He was going to change his overall outside appearance. Directors were meant to be taken seriously, and their clothing and appearance had to reflect that. It was unsettling to Conner as he had hardly worn fancy clothing before. Maybe once or twice for a football dinner or a school dance. Other than that he was usually not caught dead in that type of clothing.
They had measured him, tailored everything, gotten his shoe size, and he even got to pick out cufflinks. He didn't know the Executives did all of that /for/ you. But then again he wasn't sure if they did that because he was the Director now, or because Conner was...Conner. The gifted gild, the 'chosen one' and all of that other bullshit. It didn't matter, all of it made him feel nauseous and only wanting to get it done quicker. The faster it was all done the faster he would be almost out of there.
The paperwork was finished, and so was all of the fittings. However, he was still just beginning. The Executives made him turn in his vest, boots, cargo pants, padding, utility belt, and holsters. As well as all of his weapons from his handguns down to his staff.
The Executives gave him all new polished weaponry and explained his suit jackets and sport-coats would have sewn-in holsters hidden inside. Throughout the duration of it all, Conner just nodded along absentmindedly.
None of it was him, or really what he wanted to do. It felt like a big waste of time and he was itching to get out of there. But he had to play along, and he did to the best of his ability. Still feeling hollow and numb, he acted like he was listening. Writing and signing his signature when he was told to, standing still when they measured him. Being obedient despite wanting to resist and run away. He was heartbroken and missed Damian, he was lost and confused. Most of all he regretted opening his mouth /again/.
A few days had passed by and they were finishing cleaning up the base, meaning Conner was sent back. Looking as if he were a completely different person. Wearing designer shoes, black suit pants, and matching jacket with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a white buttoned collared shirt underneath.
A silver Rolex watch on his wrist rounded eyeglasses, and his curls moussed and shaped.
Walking down the long hallway of the top floor of the base. He stopped in front of the office with the gold plaque that read 'Director'.
Heaving out a sigh he reached for the handle and pushed open the door. Inching inside he looked all around. It seemed larger than he remembered. It was all empty and cleaned up.
Turning all around, Conner did a three-sixty as he walked farther into the room. Going over to the large desk with wooden trim. Scanning it and finding a desktop plaque that read 'Director McAlister' across it. Instantly Conner caught himself in a whirlwind. Blinking slowly he felt himself become dizzy, pressed his palms on the desk.
Glancing over to the watch on his wrist, that was eight thousand dollars he was wearing on his wrist alone. None of it was Conner at all, he wasn't polished or wore designer clothing. He was still just a kid in some ways, now he had the weight of an entire base on his shoulders. There just was no way he could pull any of this off, nor did he even want to.
Shaking his head he huffed out another sigh and pushed himself back upright. Looking out the large windows behind the desk that touched the floor. Watching the city rush by, seeing people free and living their lives. Glancing up to the blue sky without a single cloud in sight. Seeing the neighboring buildings and people inside working and being normal.
Exhaling yet another long breath he turned back around.
Looking over to the small round mirror on the wall and scoffing at his reflection.
"Who the hell is that asshole?"
He asked himself before rolling his eyes and crossing the room to the door. Opening it and exiting the office altogether. Stopping mid-pace and watching all of the Executives, cleaners, and contractors still scatter all around the base.
Blinking Conner stepped back and allowed them to pass to and fro. Lightly furrowing his brows.
Looking left and right again and again. Then getting called over, still lost and confused Conner simply went over. It was one of the Executives, telling him there was some new paperwork that he needed to fill out. He didn't try to argue or get out of it, because he knew there was no one else to do it.
He nodded and took the vanilla folder and turned back to the office. Entering the office again he shut and locked the door behind him, setting the folder on the desk and then slowly fell into the chair. Going stiff and feeling right out of place as he sat there at the desk.
Pulling open a drawer and taking out a pen, setting it down beside the folder. Conner just stared at the items before him. Not opening the folder and feeling himself sink into the large chair. Removing his eyeglasses he set them aside as well, planting his elbows on the desktop and burying his face into his hands.
He wanted to yell but there were people right outside of the door. So he bottled it up and sat there in silence. Repeating to himself that he couldn't do any of this and that he needed to get out of there. But he didn't know how. He had eyes everywhere, but he was still being watched.
Sadly that made sense, he always had their eyes glued to him. They loved to watch him, as he was so magnificent and now they were so proud. All of which meant him leaving was going to become that much harder. He should have never said yes, he shouldn't have put up a fight. He should have left with Damian. Now he seemed lost, and now also stuck there with no way out.
Sliding his face down he crossed his forearms and rested his forehead on them on the desk.
He had no idea what he was doing.