Jaene I:

30 year old Jaene spun the pen in her hands as she stared at the paper below her. The sounds of computers beeping and the swirling of liquids from the test tubes filled the silence. All she focused on were the bold red letters.

“Test Failed.”

Simple words yet they held weight. It meant more tireless nights in this lab. More second guessing and her least favorite part. More human interaction. The other researchers here were incompetent. Not because of their work but their insistence on personal connection. They couldn’t do the tough work without getting squeamish. Yet her adoptive father insisted she was to work with them.

“Even the talented need help.” His words echoed in her head.

As if summoned, the door slid open revealing the man. He seemed tired, but he did an excellent job hiding it. “You’re already up.” He stated, placing a cup of coffee beside her. She couldn’t tell if it was disapproval in his tone or concern.

“The work is incomplete. It cannot be left this way.” Jaene replied defensively, tucking a dark lock behind her ear as she took a sip of the coffee. The hot liquid served to sober her, wiping away the human limitations of exhaustion.

“We have more than enough people for that. This is not your sole responsibility.” He responded curtly, cutting through her objection. Jaene lowered her head, she nodded in begrudged agreement.

He sat down beside her, his hand lifted her chin and making her look him in the eye.

“You’re determined. I respect that. Your talent with bioengineering is admirable”.

Jaene felt pride in his word, almost beaming at the praise.

“But you are also impatient, and incredibly green. You expect results quickly and you expect to deliver them alone. That isn’t acceptable.”

He continued, her small smile fell at his criticism. Still he held her gaze.

“Our employers require fine work, and we will deliver with haste. Do you understand?” His eyebrow raises, expecting only one answer.

“I understand.” Jaene replied, her eyes averted to the paper covered desk. The damn thing got taller no matter how much she worked. Her father looked as well, a sigh escaping his lips.

“I’ll send three people to handle the work in here. I have a new job for you.” He doesn’t leave room for objection, he stood from the chair and leaving the lab not bothering to look behind him. She followed quickly, the white walls and blue lights disorienting compared to her dimly lit lab.

The pair walked through the facility, her father giving orders as he strolled past researched and security. “You’re going to advertise a deal of sorts. Down in Price City. Sell what we have and get our customers interested in the upcoming product.”

Jaene nodded slowly taking in his words. It wasn’t uncommon for him to give a job like this. As the lead bioengineer, she often joined the selling process. The deals were usually quick with the simplistic things, but as of late they’ve required her to actually pitch the sale.

“You’ll leave within the hour. Get ready, and ride out as scheduled. When you return we will speak some more.” He dismissed her, already walking away.

Jaene stood there for a few moments, before turning heel and walking to her room. She had her orders and wouldn’t fail to complete them.

Getting ready was the quick. She only discarded the lab coat, opting for more civilian like clothing to blend in. Opening her drawer, she took the handgun and tucked into her bag. A precaution. Dealers were shady people and would do anything to get an advantage. As Jaene turned to leave a hushed whisper called out behind her.

“Liar.”

Whirling around to meet the voice, she found nothing. The room was empty save herself. Clutching the bag tightly, Jaene left her quarters, her pace rushed to get to the rooftop. Today wasn’t the day for this.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The soldiers robotically moved to side to make way for her, a direct path to the helicopter. Just being surrounded like this and the noise from the chopper was overstimulating enough to make her want to turn around. But she steeled her nerves. She had orders.

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Chris I:

The loud whirring of helicopters were cutting through all conversation around Chris. He stood like a sentry waiting for the blades to stop. Finally they did, and the sounds of the men marching in the yard, training or conversing were audible. There was little protection from the onslaught of the sun. He already began to sweat just standing there for a few minutes.

Soldiers and a man in a suit stepped off the helicopter. The man approached him, his pace hurried. Chris still with arms behind his back and his head held high, spoke formerly.

“Director Chaplin.”

“Captain Moore.” The man replied, adjusting his tie.

The two wasted no time, Chris stepped to the side allowing the man to pass. He followed behind, waiting for the dam of complains to leave the directors mouth.

“I’ve got the board halfway up my ass about the attacks. Warehouses cleaned out, good men killed! Tell me is there any action your people are going to take or can we expect nothing!” There it was, the guys discretion lost as he shouted.

Chris sighed, keeping his composure.

“We’re currently pursuing a lead. An arms deal out in Price City. My team is currently preparing to head out as we speak.”

The director calmed just a bit but his voice was still raised three levels too high.

“You best succeed. The government is funding this operation, we need results! What good is the P.A.L if it doesn’t do the job in the fucking name!?”

“I understand that sir, and we’re grateful for your help.” Chris spoke, his teeth grinding as the man tested his patience. He speaks as if it’s a failed project, does he not realize people’s lives are in danger? It’s more than the money lost in the job. The lives were so much more important. Sadly Chris couldn’t admonish the man for his ignorance, simply letting him continue on into the board room.

Chris sighed for what felt like the hundredth time today, his tension easing a bit when he felt someone familiar approach.

“Tell me how close were you to knocking his teeth out?” Ada teased, her gear already on and a rifle strapped to her back.

Chris let himself laugh a bit, he showed two fingers and small gap between them.

“This much. But I remember it’s not worth the charges.”

“Attaboy.“ She pat his shoulder, walking ahead to the base’s armory. It was dimly lit, lockers open and empty. Most of their soldiers had left already. His civilian clothes useless now, he began to change. Ada turned, fiddling with her pocket knife as she waited.

“Everyone ready?” Chris asked, opening his locker to strap his gear on.

Ada leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

“Yeah we’re fueling the chopper. After that it’s a short flight to the city.”

Chris nodded approvingly, strapping a handgun to his belt. His personal favorite, a Beretta 92fs.

Strapping the assault rifle to his back he turned to Ada. Despite her best efforts, he saw the overzealous anticipation in her eyes.

“Do I need to worry about you?” He said, arms crossed.

Her eyes snapped to him.

“No. I’ll be fine.” Her tone left no room for further inquisition, she stepped off the wall and made way for the yard. Chris followed, adjusting his vest. There was a bit of tension between them now, but ultimately they prevailed. The doors to the yard opened, revealing many of the soldiers that were just there had left. Only his team remained.

Besides himself and Ada, were the other three members of his team. On the bench cleaning his shotgun was Benjamin Burton. He was aged fourth five, though you could barely tell. Aside from the growing wrinkles, he was tall and in good shape. About an inch shorter than Chris himself. His cap and red tinted glasses hid the excitement in his eyes and face, but Chris knew the man well enough to know he was more than ready to head out.

On the chopper reading an unidentifiable book was Emma Stone. She was the youngest of the team, only twenty four. She served as their combat medic, patching Chris up more times than he bothered to count. Her brown hair was cut short, and she too wore the usual grey gear P.AL soldiers wore.

Fueling the chopper was twenty nine year old John Young. The guy accompanied Chris on infiltration missions often. His experience breaking into facilities were taken advantage of by the organization he now worked for. His dark blonde hair was brighter today due to the unforgiving flash of the sun. He set the fuel tank down, turning to Chris and Ada’s approaching forms.

He saluted to them. “Captain. Lieutenant.”

Chris nodded, speaking out to his team.

“Alright everyone. We’re heading out. Our Orders are to incapacitate. We need to bring in the dealer. Otherwise we’re gonna be just as lost as before. Understood?”

A collective “yes sir” sounded around him.

“Then let’s go.” He said, boarding the helicopter.