AGENT | 115: SEASON ONE

A DANIEL DUONG NOVEL

AN ELITE PRODUCTIONS

A Daniel Duong Novel...

Elite Productions....

We Present....

October 3rd, 2024

Elite City, Virginia

2333 hours

“Daniel Duong”

“AN EXPLOSION HAS OCCURED somewhere in Elite City, we are getting reports now.”

“This marks the 5th violent terrorism attack in a month-”

“Local police and fire rescue are arriving on scene!”

“This city is supposed to be safe! The police aren’t helping!”

“We are getting word that there are fatalities-”

“Elite University professor has been identified as one of the fatalities-”

“What the hell is going on?!”

“Help us!

AGENT | 115

The fire had spread to the next apartment building. Firefighters held their ground on the street, deploying their hose against the raging fire. Police officers cordoned off the scene from the civilian populace, hundreds of them running rampant trying to escape. Metal replicants that were 8 feet tall were forming a blockade with the first responders. Authorities were shouting at the civilians and their teammates. Surrounding the area were tall skyscrapers and apartment buildings. The fires lit up the night sky with a bright orange-red. The entrance led to nothing but black and orange smoke.

The officers and firefighters didn’t dare to push towards the abyss, but over the towering skyscraper, a Blackhawk hovered just over the rooftop. Ropes were thrown down to the ground and what appeared from the ground were four figures being engulfed in smoke, feet first into hell. Long and short barrel carbines were raised and they stacked on one side of the rooftop access door. The leader tapped his helmet, cuing the third operator to bring out a crowbar. He wedged it inside the locks and pried it open with ease. They each had protective masks on with a PAPR system on their backs.

“Move quick! This fire is going to take down the upper-half of the building,” shouted the leader, with a helmet patch stitched with ‘115’. Their rifle lights came on, illuminating the smoke-covered stairs as they moved down to the 40th floor.

“No one could have survived that blast, and they’re taking hostages?!” shouted Agent 086.

“They clearly want something,” 099 replied as he stacked up on the entrance to the 40th floor.

“Or someone,” Agent 084 added as he held 099’s shoulder behind him, rifle in the ready-high position. 115 kept his short carbine trained on the door and gave his teammates the signal to make entry.

The cement floor crumbled and cracked as if their next step was going to be their last. The ceilings were blazing with orange and red. In pairs, the Agents moved through the hallway hugging the walls, keeping their guns trained forward and eyes scanning for any open doors and surprises. A dozen casualties were reported, with an unknown number of hostages and shooters. The Agents approached an intersection and the main event came in with bullets sizzling right down the center of the hall.

“Contact!” The Agents came to a stop and took cover behind the adjacent walls. Whoever was shooting at the end of the hallway, was only spraying and praying. The Agents held their fire so they wouldn’t hurt anyone on accident. The smoke wasn’t going to clear anytime soon, but the Agents had a second pair of eyes they had on them. Their AR mask lens lit up, giving them a blue glow on their eyes like NVGs giving off a blue light. It was like the smoke wasn’t there for them, and the shooters were in for a rude awakening. It’ll be a surprise, albeit less than the bomb they had clacked off killing civilians before they knew what had happened. The Agents carefully sighted in their targets and fired off a single shot from their weapons, taking down three suspects at the end of the hall.

The floor rumbled beneath them, steel twisting and melting onto each other as the walls crumbled around them. It would be a miracle to even see the hostages alive, or anyone alive for that matter.

“Almost there!” 099 shouted. The Agents staged just outside the door into the apartment suite. The neon blue and red mixed the blazing orange and black haze as the Agents trained their sights at a shooter pointing their weapon at a man already on the floor.

“On me!” 115 commanded. They filed through the door like water through a drain, methodically taking control of one half of the suite. Guns trained at the enemy.

“Police!”

“Drop it or die!”

12 hours earlier

October 3rd, 2023

Elite University, Elite City, Virginia

1130 hours

“Daniel Duong”

Four pages later, a total of six hours worked on an assignment that should have been easy, and yet, Daniel didn’t want to turn it in because of how sensitive it was. Professor Wells was still going on about the essay and how it should be straight to the point about the topics the students wanted to write about. It wasn’t an essay one could write in an hour, or even six. Six hours of writing only for it to come up with four pages wasn’t enough to explain why the government needed a domestic counter-terrorism organization whose sole purpose was to protect the American people. Daniel stared at his essay. All of it was typed; had he written it with a mere pencil, it would have taken him double the hours to finish it. Technology made things easier, though Daniel missed writing the old-fashioned way: College ruled paper and a pencil.

The desks were organized row by row like a grid. The students surrounding Daniel were either writing down notes of Wells’ expectations or half-asleep. He finally closed out his remarks, and the students immediately stood up and packed up their things. From Wells’ point of view, Daniel was lost in the center of the crowd, but Wells knew where he was. Daniel turned to the windows, but his view of the tall trees and blue sky was blocked by students conglomerating in front of him, already eager to get to their next class or get out of school.

Daniel closed up his notebook, putting his essay underneath it, discreetly putting his things inside his backpack as students were placing their essays on Wells’ desk. Daniel got up from his seat and slung his backpack over his shoulder. Wells already took notice of Daniel, whom of which he self-proclaimed as his young protégé. Daniel touched the brim of his AR glasses as they reset his heads-up display, bringing up his heart rate and compass on the top corners. His glasses had slim frames, with rectangular lenses. It wasn’t anything nerdy that made his eyes pop.

“Daniel,” he called out. Daniel looked up at his professor, standing as tall as he could, but being 5”5 could only do so much. Professor Wells, an English Professor at Elite University for 5 years, and one of Daniel’s mentors.

“Yes, sir?”

“Where’s your essay?”

Daniel should have been the first to leave to avoid interrogation, but his dad taught him to be patient and never rush. Daniel scratched the top of his black hair.

“I’m still working on it, sir,” Daniel replied. Wells’ eyes blew up like he had heard the most atrocious thing. He nearly scoffed.

“My best student? The best journalist? About to be late on a paper?” Wells leaned on the window sill, laying his hand out.

“Come on, give it to me,” he ordered. Even though he wasn’t exactly his superior officer, he felt compelled to comply, only because Wells was someone he respected on a professional level, in addition to years of conditioning and training on discipline. Daniel reached into his backpack, handing him the essay. Wells flipped to the first page, skipping the not-so-subtle title: Creative Counter Terrorism.

“The use of civilians to be embedded within society as law enforcement, with the authority and capability, will contribute to the success of stability and ensure It’s a goddamn wonder why the Talon fired you over that article you wrote. You should have fought for that.”

“Well, like the justice system, the school is a bureaucracy with slow-moving parts.”

Wells set the essay down on his desk. “You did a good thing. Everyone knows that. What’s tragic is the school spewing out hate on you about that article. It was the truth.”

“It was a long time ago,” Daniel said.

“Past has a way of catching up with the present.”

“You’re damn right it does!”

Daniel’s heart spiked, and his rate went over 110, which was abnormal for a safe environment. A young man was leaning on the door frame with an annoying smile. He was dressed poorly, with a beat-up jacket and loose pants.

“Mr. Stiltdriver. Did anyone ever tell you it’s polite to knock first?” Wells asked him. Cassus Stiltdriver shrugged and walked in as if he owned the place when in reality, he was someone who didn’t own anything at all. He shuffled over to Wells’ desk and immediately spotted Daniel’s essay. By instinct, Daniel had nearly reached for his hip but instead confronted Cassus. He backed away, keeping the essay high in the air.

“Creative counter-terrorism? Jesus Christ, Daniel, what are you writing? More useless papers?”

Wells cleared his throat, “Put it down, Cassus. Now.” Wells had more conviction than Daniel did on a midnight SOS call. Cassus turned to Wells, who looked like he was ready to grab more than just the essay himself. He finally ceded, and tossed the paper on the desk.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said with sarcasm. Daniel laid off on Cassus, giving him space to breathe, but a small person like Daniel wasn’t enough to even make him sweat. Still, he tried. Being short had its shortcomings.

“Anything I can help you with?” Wells asked.

“Oh no. Not at this time, sir. Just wanted to say, but looks like we got a party crasher, don’t we?” he asked looking at Daniel. Wells stepped in front of Daniel.

“In that case, you can go. I’ll see you next class, Mr. Stiltdriver.” Cassus nodded, and waved at Daniel as he left the classroom. Daniel’s heart rate went back down after a couple of minutes. Wells sat down, letting out an egregious sigh.

“I’m not sure how even you deal with a jackass like him.”

“Sir,” Daniel said with disappointment. Wells flicked his own head, “Yeah, you’re right. I shouldn’t say that. Go on now. I’m sure the Red Angel is worried sick about you.” Daniel nodded and took his leave, but before even going down in a hallway, he made sure Cassus was out of sight. Instead, he was met with a bustling hall of students going from one way to another and back. The halls were optimistic, with bright ceiling lights and decorations for the month’s events and festivities. It seemed like hope had risen again amidst nearly four years of abuse and dictatorship from the administration. Down on the first floor, it was a different story.

The ceilings had draped banners of a logo with an eagle and the American flag pointing down, and text was arced above. True Eagles. The inventions of Brawns Industries were helping staffers take the flags down while they were getting pummeled with balls of paper and sprayed with paint. Teachers and professors were holding their students back, keeping them away from the replicants that continued their programming as if nothing was trying to interrupt them. The students were roaring for the replicants to be removed, cursing them and shouting True Eagles.

The conflict was ripe for journalists to write about and photograph, but Daniel kept moving. At the end of the hall was an adjacent staircase to which Daniel planned on going but there was even a bigger commotion just outside the glass doors leading to the vast University Park. There was a mix of students from different classes gathered around a female speaker, standing high and fierce among them. They were at the center of the park, just by the fountain. Daniel spotted an odd one out, a football player. Davis Washer, the varsity football team’s top linebacker. He shot Daniel a short look, but immediately shifted his attention to the woman of the hour. Her voice projected beyond the courtyard wall.

“Alex Rupert is a criminal! He has taken so much from his, and we will continue to fight him until he gives up his powers and authority in the name of justice!” Her audience sounded off in agreement, all while Daniel stood there, he looked at who was giving the speech. She had tight fists and a strong stance, which was uncharacteristic of Maggie Sudduth, at least to Daniel’s knowledge. His AR glasses pulled a profile of the girl. 21 years old majoring in Political Science and used to be in the photography class. Quite the career change.

“The True Eagles will bring this school back to its former glory, and with it, a new administration and a new future!” she cried out, raising her fist in the air. The students roared for her, but Daniel silently remained in the background.

The True Eagles had finally become a fully-fledged group with one singular focus. Though, Daniel didn’t pay too much mind to them. Daniel walked past the small crowd and went back into the halls of the school. The second floor wasn’t all-encompassing, it didn’t seem smart for the architects to require the students to go down to the first floor just to go to the other side of the school to get on the other half of the second floor. The University, as modern as it was, ironically had the most illogical architectural design. It was in a U-shape, with a small courtyard in the middle with smaller structures branching off the ends that housed the more hands-on and less critical courses.

There was a banner that hung just over the entrance to the hallways of the second floor. Daniel passed by, already knowing what it said: Medical Wing. There were two infirmaries. One on the second and the first floor in case an incident had happened on either one. Both of which were manned by a certified nurse, and a medical resident under that nurse, but the resident was just as capable, if not better. The Medical Wing was white, with shiny walls and a waxed floor. There were no lockers, just glass cases of medical equipment, new and old, cases of awards and decorations. Daniel stopped in front of a tall glass shelf, at eye level was a newspaper cover from the school’s newspaper.

The Red Angel saves officer! It was a candid photo of a young girl, who was merely 16 in the photo, with piercing red eyes and beautifully long blonde hair, sporting a red patterned skirt and a bloodied, ash-covered white dress shirt. Daniel eyed her collar closely. The girl had a red bow, with two ends dangling. Daniel’s cheeks turned to a shade of pink, and his smile grew big enough that it couldn’t be stopped. He tried to ignore his AR glasses reacting to his heart rate. Daniel minded his surroundings and forced himself to remain disciplined. 22 years old and a veteran of what she does, which was unusual to start a career at such a young age. Daniel couldn’t judge. He too was in a line of work that was more than unconventional. Daniel walked inside the infirmary, catching the eyes of some students but they quickly returned to Reina Hunter as she was tending to a flesh wound on a student.

“Try not to run into the halls again,” she said to the male student who was getting his arm bandaged. He didn’t seem to notice what she was doing, nor was he listening. His eyes were entranced by the glow of Reina’s skin.

Daniel leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, and listened in to the monologue she was given to the rest of the students, who were just as lost in beauty as the male student being taken care of. Her voice was smooth, light, and projecting confidence. Her hair gracefully flowed with every twist of her slender body. She dressed much like a country ranch girl, with a similar red flannel shirt and tight jeans. Her brown belt perfectly fitted her waist. Her fingers carefully lifted the student’s arm and hand as she inspected it for any gaps in the bandage she applied. Her red bow flared in the air, following the flow of her hair.

“All done.” She was followed by a short cheer.

“You’re amazing, Red Angel!”

“She’s so pretty.”

“Is it true that if she touches you, you’ll get good luck?”

“Thank you, Red Angel!”

Reina nodded with a smile and waved to the students as they left the infirmary. Daniel’s fingers twitched; her cheek bones were more than just squeezable.

“Reina,” Daniel said. Reina came in, throwing her arms around Daniel’s shoulders, and giving him a passionate kiss, which made the professor look away for a moment. Daniel almost stretched his legs as he slowly kissed her. She pulled back, keeping Daniel locked in with her red eyes.

“What happened to that guy?” Daniel asked her as she let go.

“Oh, he tripped running his way to class and scraped his arm,” Reina groaned, palming her face. “I swear they only do stupid things just to see me.”

“Sounds a lot like what you tell me after a mission,” Daniel said.

“Well, that’s different, love,” Reina said. Reina packed up her things and slung her backpack which was used mostly as a med kit, around her shoulder. She adjusted the red ribbon on her hair, letting it flow with her hair. She had that as long as Daniel knew her. Like Daniel’s glasses, she couldn’t leave home without them. There was a history behind that, but if anyone had problems with alcohol abuse, they could make an inference.

Daniel held Reina’s hand and walked out of the infirmary. Daniel couldn’t count on his hand how many times Reina was a godsend post-mission. She swears he and the others used up a quarter of the Unit’s medical supplies after a firefight that resulted in the building getting blown to pieces. Of course, each of the Agents sustained injuries but nothing life-threatening. The school was lucky just to see the collected, and tender Reina. Meanwhile, the Agents had to be slapped in the face if they did something stupid; if the Agents weren’t going to die from bullets or shrapnel, it was going to be from the wrath of the Red Angel.

The two reached the dominated halls of the True Eagles on the first floor, which Reina paid careful attention to. She didn’t seem to be too bothered by their mere presence. The replicants finally balled the banners and tossed them in a trash bag. The staff proudly watch the replicants mindlessly take the flags down.

They finally walked outside the University and met the afternoon wind and the falling sun. The University was surrounded by a wall of oakwood trees and in the distance were the city skyscrapers, which were still intimidating from afar as they were up close. The parking lot was emptying slowly, there were still groups of students on the grounds, each doing their own desired profession; band, public speaking, study groups. But there was a mass of students gathered nearby in a field, their heads looking up at the wall of windows, and there was a single figure watching them from his office, like a king over pawns.

“I’ll say, the True Eagles are persistent, despite action from the administration,” Daniel said, watching the crowd as he walked to his car. He was still looking at the unruly mass of students gathered, shouting at the college principal’s office.

“Just like the Palestinian protests a couple of months ago. These kids don’t know what it is that they’re fighting for,” Reina said.

“You think so? Fighting an administration that’s got their students in a chokehold seems like a decent fight to me,” Daniel countered.

“Except that you and I are kind of given an exemption because of our status. Me as the school nurse, you as a former journalist.” Daniel simply nodded and got in his car, of nearly five years. A white Nissan Altima.

“You should let me drive this time, Daniel,” Reina said, playfully bumping into Daniel’s side.

Daniel let off a light chuckle, “You drove yesterday, sweetheart. I think it’s my turn.” Daniel took a moment to get himself ready, and meanwhile, Reina watched her busy boyfriend with a sneaky smile. Daniel pushed on the brake and pressed the start button. He turned to Reina, who was still giving him a mischievous smile.

“Oh no... Do not...Do not give me that smile. Reina Hunter. Do not...Ughh!” Daniel couldn’t help but smile in embarrassment, but he mustered his composure and turned to Reina. He leaned in, “I’ll let you drive after work.” Reina immediately jumped back and opened the door, “Sweet. Get out.”

She rushed around the car and went to Daniel’s driver’s side, who was at a loss for words. Reina stood there, authorial, patiently waiting as if he was her chauffeur. Daniel reluctantly got out as Reina snickered, giving him a small peck on the cheek.

Reina got in, and seated herself, adjusting the seat backward so she would have more legroom.

“You’re so short,” she said.

“What?! Excuse me? I am not short, Miss.”

“You are. Now get in.” Reina buckled in. Daniel got to the passenger side and sat down. He looked at Reina, who was putting on her round blacked-out sunglasses.

“Wow.” Daniel sat still, looking forward. Reina pulled out of the driveway, driving to the main road.

“You just don’t like my driving.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Nope. Not letting you hit a curb again,” Reina said sternly. She was driving to the speed limit and carefully turning corners with ease.

“It was a rock!” Daniel laughed it off, making Reina smile. Their hands interlaced together. The drive from Elite City to Manassas was almost an hour, across a big stretch of highway on the I-95. Elite City sprawled north of Centreville, past IAD, and then to the Potomac near to the east close to DC.

Daniel stared out the window, seeing a faint reflection of Reina driving, but past her was the humble city of Manassas. The sprawl of commercial shops was approaching on both sides of the road; some of them were closed and some were not. Compared to Elite City, Manassas still held onto the cultures of old. The modest buildings were complemented with pot-hole-ridden roads and no replicants.

“Remember when this area would be busy all the time? Especially Kline’s Ice Freeze? I miss their strawberry funnel cakes,” a solemn Reina looked at the small shop that was by itself in the middle of a parking lot as it passed by.

“Well, Old Ben’s Coffee Shop is the new thing now. Has been for a year. I’m surprised Old Ben decided to move his shop to Elite City.”

“I’m surprised people would go there at all. My friend in Elite City’s Fire Rescue says they’re trying to request additional support from the outlying counties because they’re overworking themselves,” Reina said. Reina came to a stop at a busy intersection. The heart of Manassas was as busy as it could be. High school students were crossing the intersection, and Daniel spotted two MCPD patrol units at the corner in their vehicles, watching the kids over. The presence of police in the heart of Manassas has been more apparent in recent months. Elite City had several shootings and criminal activities, most of them being felonies. The latter was common during the night, however. Old Town Manassas eventually came to. It was like going back in time, with purely brick buildings and small shops like taverns and cafes. A train came to a stop at the station, picking up passengers to take to Elite City. The station was in service for more than 100 years, and it’ll probably be phased out soon when Elite City takes over Manassas. It was only a matter of time.

“Here we are.” Reina pulled into a parking lot with unmarked vehicles with blacked-out windows and government plates. The surrounding area was a wall of trees and old brick buildings, but right across from the lot was a large, L-shaped building. Like the rest of Old Town, the building was made up of brick, with subtle additions of large plexiglass doors underneath the overhang where it had large blocks of text indicating what the building was: The Prince William County General District Court.

Daniel immediately got out of the car and moved to his trunk. He lifted it open and got out his inside-the-waistband concealment holster. He also grabbed a compact MOLLE backpack and brought out his handgun, an FN545 compact, chambered in .45 ACP Hollowpoint. Daniel loaded a magazine and racked it, performing a pressure check to ensure a round was chambered. He clipped his holster stowed his handgun and closed the trunk, concealing his firearm underneath his flannel. Reina was still inside, looking at the mirror while adjusting her red bow on her collar. She finally tied her hair into a ponytail with her red ribbon and got out of the car. She spun around, looking for Daniel, but he was already on the way to the building.

She hurried along, catching up to Daniel at the front doors. The two pushed through the plex-glass rotating doors and were met with an active lobby of young and adult employees. At first glance, everyone seemed to look the same, wearing slicks and roughs, but some of the workers were armed.

The outside of the court building was perfect for the wandering public. The official story was that the city had moved the court’s operations further north up to Elite City but inside, it wasn’t anything like the old court building at all. The floor was waxed and shiny, with the Unit’s logo, a Raven with blue and silver wings, painted in the shape of a circle in the center of the lobby. The building immediately came to a split, with the reception desk sitting in between two large hallways with offices to the left and right.

Daniel looked behind him, tracing the catwalk above the doors that lead to a single door with a plaque he couldn’t see the text of but knew what it said. Reina and Daniel went up to the reception desk and scanned their ID cards.

“Good afternoon, Chief. Agent 115. Nice to see you both,” said the reception lady. Daniel and Reina smiled, but Reina immediately went off to the left. The left wall was just glass panes, able to be blurred out for privacy. While most of the offices looked the same for the senior members of the Unit, Reina’s was a makeshift medical room. Daniel put away his ID card in his wallet. Just as he was about to leave, a translucent, blue holo-gram formed on the surface of the reception desk.

“Agent 115,” it said, taking form into Daniel, but his voice was in an English accent. “I know you have just arrived, but your presence is requested in the Director’s office,” he said.

“Of course... Haven’t even started yet. Alright, let him know I’m here,” Daniel groaned, walking up the catwalk stairs. Castor, dispersed into a thousand pixels, eventually fading away.

Daniel walked up to the door, reading the plaque: Saul Eckhart. Director. He knocked on the door, waiting for the response. “Enter,” called out a gruff, mature voice. Daniel went inside, and there were three young adults, standing around an older man who was in his leather chair, dressed in a clean pressed gray suit. Appearing on the Director’s desk was Castor, who took the form of the Director this time, instead of Daniel. The Director’s office was relatively small, with two windows behind Saul’s desk that had a view of the Catholic Church that Daniel used to go with his family. To the left was a shelf of Saul’s achievements and decorations, along with portrait photos of the Unit, including Raven Team.

“Ah, everyone is here. Splendid. Director?” Castor called out. Daniel looked at the small blue hologram.

“Hey, brother,” Henry Rake patted Daniel’s shoulder. Compared to Daniel, Rake 099 was a hulking mountain, his defined build almost stretched out his clothes. He had slick-backed blonde hair, which always attracted the college girls at his school. Daniel stood in between his teammates. The others, Quintus Mereel 084 and Davish Wayland 082 stared at their leader. Quintus bumped Davish’s arm, who quickly shot a confused eye at him, “You think Reina twisted Daniel’s arm to drive from school to work?” Quintus whispered into his ear.

“Don’t know. Don’t care,” Davish plainly said, backing away from him. “Can you focus up, 084?”

Quintus frowned, brushing his curly hair, and returned his attention to the Director. Davish cleared his throat and straightened out his dress shirt collar. Saul was looking at a folder and got up from his chair. The four Agents straightened their postures, reminiscent of standing at attention. The Director of the Manassas City Counter Terrorism, as the AR glasses read out to Daniel, a former DC Metro police officer who created the Unit from the ground up just over six years ago. He had a gray scruff, with gelled, parted hair. Saul Eckhart had more years of service in uniform than the Agents did combined.

“Needless to say, the training exercise the big bosses from DHS came out for, albeit at short notice, you guys did great,” Saul said. Henry lit up, grabbing Davish’s shoulders and tumbling him around in excitement. Davish smacked his hands off trying to calm him down.

“115,” Saul called out to Daniel, “Tell our girl she did good, too. Mass casualty coordination was effective and fast.”

“Yes, sir,” Daniel nodded.

“Teamwork makes the dream work, right?” Quintus exclaimed. The AI on the table was just as annoyed as Davish was. Saul grumbled, “I never understand where you kids get this much energy from even after such a mission.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I crashed as soon as we got back. Actually, I just slept upstairs in the dorms,” Henry said, with Quintus nodding in agreeance.

“Stella Steele must have been upset at you for that,” Davish added.

Henry scoffed, “Couldn’t be worse than Reina’s scolding.”

“It could be worse. She’s a control freak,” Quintus said. Castor almost chuckled, but Saul glared down at the AI, prompting him to retreat into a million pixels.

“You’re all dismissed,” Saul said with relief. The Agents stood at attention and finally left his office.

“Wanna get something to eat at the gas station?” Quintus asked Davish, hugging his shoulders. Davish shrugged him off, dusting off his shoulders, and made sure his gelled blonde hair was in shape before Quintus could ruin it.

“I have some stuff in the team cage,” Davish replied. Quintus let out a loud groan and pouted. Davish quickly disappeared to the team cage on the other side of the headquarters, and Henry met up with his girlfriend who is also the Chief Intelligence Analyst, Stella Steele. Quintus was already socializing with the receptionist he’d been trying to get with for the past few months.

Daniel stayed on the catwalk, firmly holding the steel guard rail, watching over his people. It was the only place where he felt taller than his teammates, and most of the Unit.

The Unit had a complement of almost 200 personnel. Out of the 200, about 30-40 of them were Field Agents like Daniel and his team. The numbers fluctuated over the six years the Unit has been in service. Daniel came almost a year later, after Henry and Reina.

The Manassas City Counter Terrorism Unit was the creative counter-terrorism that the city needed. It was designed to do things other agencies couldn’t and wouldn’t. The Agents were infused with the federal law of the land, and very few knew of the Unit’s existence. Most of them are up at CTU's main headquarters at the DHS in DC and the local law enforcement entities that knew of the Unit’s existence were the department commanders.

To the uniforms, MCCTU was just a special branch of ECPD and MCPD, although obviously, the Agents wouldn’t identify themselves as MCCTU.

The MCCTU was anything but conventional. Saul took an unprecedented leap with his organization. Recruiting the Waves at such a young age. Agents were considered fully trained at the age of 18, able to conceal carry handguns thanks to a passing of a bill several years ago, and able to operate in ‘cold-status’ unless called to duty.

Like the others, Daniel was recruited at 15 years old as part of the Second Wave. Rumor has it the First Wave, the 25-30 candidates before him a year prior, are either dead or MIA and the handful that survived were Reina, Stella, Davish, and Henry. If the public knew about the MCCTU, they’d call out Saul for inhumane atrocities. But that wasn’t how the Agents saw it. They saw it as a necessity. The future. Agents trained through fire and hell.

The sun was shining through the glass just over Daniel’s head, he looked back, partly shielding his eyes. Bright orange and a shade of red were all too familiar. It felt like he was already surrounded by fire and a coat of intense heat. He was in it once, and he was in it again.

2340 hours

Elite City

“Drop it or die!” Even though the Agents’ voices were muffled behind their masks, their sheer presence quickly taking control of the room was enough to rattle the last shooter and the hostage. The fire was eating away at the floor and the walls. Gushes of wind came through blowing at the smoke and fire, making it clear for the Agents to see their target.

“Drop the gun! It’s over!”

“I’m not done with this animal!” Daniel hadn’t heard his voice, but he didn’t forget that small detail that only lasted for a mere second at the university: His face.

“Davis Washer?” Daniel called out. Davis pointed his Glock at the Agents, but the Agents kept their training in mind, hoping to diffuse the situation first before taking his life, which was going to be inevitable.

“How the hell do you know my name?! Who are you?” Davis kept his gun pointed at the Agents, which meant that his focus was now on them, and not the hostage; exactly what the Agents wanted.

“I know you. You’re the linebacker for Elite University, aren’t you? You were at the True Eagles protest earlier,” Daniel said. It was doubtful Davis would remember Daniel at all even if he took off his mask.

“What the hell is he talking about? Shoot him officers!” the hostage shouted.

“Shut up!” Davis waved his gun at him, but the Agents held their fire once more. The hostage seemed familiar, even covered in carbon and ash. It was a professor, from the University.

“Shoot him!” Professor Tay Hawthorne ordered the Agents; he almost threw up from the smoke.

“Look, Davis! The building is going to come down on all of us if you don’t put the gun down and surrender!” Henry shouted. Davis turned his gun on the Agents.

“No. He needs to die! And you can’t stop us!” Davis swung his gun back to the hostage, who shielded himself with his frail arms.

“Drop him,” Davish ordered. Several shots went off, and Davis collapsed to the ground. Parts of the ceiling came crashing down. Quintus and Henry rushed over to the hostage and wrapped his arms around their shoulders.

“We gotta go!” Davish shouted as he went to secure the hallway they came in from. Daniel stayed by the door, being the last person to go. Davis’ body was burned to ash. He didn’t know him, but he was a classmate nonetheless, and a terrorist. But Daniel didn’t fire his weapon. Henry, Davish, and Quintus took their shots as Daniel watched Davis fall to the ground.

“115! Let’s go!” Davish yelled at Daniel. Daniel ran with the others, leaving the burning body behind. Going back up to the roof was a no-go as the stairs going up were all but in flames. Over 50 flights of stairs, the Agents finally made it out to the ground level. First responders in masks came by to assist the Agents.

The wounded hostage was taken to an ambulance, and the Agents retreated to the other side of the road and crashed into a fence. They took their masks off, and a breeze of warm and cold air enveloped their faces.

Henry and Quintus were coughing and spitting.

“Jesus Christ,” Henry almost choked on his spit. Daniel sat against the fence, looking up as he took off his helmet. A swarm of drones armed with hoses flew up to the upper half of the skyscraper and fired high-pressure water at the blazes.

Daniel’s gloves were torn, with the open spaces leaving black smudges on his fingers. The Agents had a black outline around their faces where the mask seal was on their faces. Daniel wiped his sweat with his forearm.

“I’ll send our sitrep to HQ, let them know we got the hostage,” Davish said coughing as he touched his plate carrier looking for his PTT. Henry threw up on the sidewalk. His white skin and blonde hair were smudged with ash and carbon.

“Now you know what it’s like to be me,” Quintus said heavily.

“Is that a skin color joke or a CBRN joke?”

“Both,” Quintus hacked. The fire was finally diminishing. It was the largest fire Daniel had been in so far. This marked the third time. Being buried under a burning building was bad enough, and being upside down in a car accident was the worst out of the three. Daniel’s eyes felt heavy. The upside-down vehicle was a Toyota 4Runner. In the middle of an intersection. It was hot, melting the clothes right off of Daniel and the people he was with that day.

Davish was on his PTT, “Casualties are unknown. Roads are blocked off; RA will need to approach on foot.” His voice was fading away.

“Four. We’re all fine.” Car crash. Fire. Oil leaked and then an explosion followed after everyone was evacuated. Rapid footsteps came by shortly after to care for Daniel and the wounded.

“Daniel. Daniel!” The rapid footsteps stopped where the Agents were, and Reina Hunter kneeled next to Daniel, taking a flashlight to his eyes.

“Sweetheart, wake up,” Mom said.

“Is he hit?”

“No. He needs water!”

It was like a jolt of electricity struck Daniel as he backed up into the fence.

“Agent, it’s us. You’re safe,” Dad said. The man with white hair and silver eyes poured water over Daniel’s head. He coughed and wiped the water away from his face.

“Where am I?”

“You’re here,” Reina said. Daniel looked up to see Reina and Saul looking down on him, hands on shoulders making sure he wasn’t going to freak out. A black plume of smoke was all that was left as the drones continued to spray water down on the building. Ash fell like snow down to the streets. The neon lights across the stretch of road illuminated the night sky and what was left of the building.

Reina brought Daniel up and helped him take off his kit and PAPR system hooked to his back plate. The other Agents seemed fine, rapidly recovering from escaping hell. Daniel tried to find his footing. His equipment and rifle were on the ground. He wanted to reach for it, but Reina held his hands, muddying her hands with carbon.

“Is everyone okay?” Daniel asked.

Henry came up to his team leader, “Yeah. We’re fine, dude. Are you?”

1 hour later

Manassas City Counter Terrorism Unit

“He’s fine,” Davish said. The members of Raven Team were next to Daniel on the hospital bed. He was in a black gown, practically naked.

“Stop moving, babe,” Reina demanded as she was wrapping a bandage around Daniel’s left arm. “He has a small burn, but he’ll be fine if he doesn’t go into another burning building.”

Henry snickered, “Seems to be impossible in our line of work, dear.” Bad timing came across Quintus as he let out a small smile, but Reina snapped to both of the Agents about to throw a knife at them. They came to and stood at attention while Davish had his arms crossed and scoffed.

Saul came into the med bay, prompting Daniel to try to get up from his bed but Reina stopped him.

“You alright, 115?” Daniel nodded, holding his forehead. He saw two of everyone, and a faint ringing was in his head.

“He was there,” Daniel muttered.

“Who was?” Reina asked.

“Tay Hawthorne. The hostage you rescued is being treated at Elite City General Hospital. We’ll get statements from him tomorrow, but me and Castor are going to visit the bombsite once HAZMAT and EOD clear the area,” Saul said.

“Any reason why a classmate of yours wanted to kill a professor?” Henry asked. Daniel brought his legs over the bed. His body felt like it was being suffocated by Reina’s big hugs or a piece of a ceiling came crashing down onto him. He winced as Reina helped him move.

“I’m not sure. But from what I heard; the professor wasn’t popular.” Tomorrow was going to be a busy day. Students would have a triumphant day, and the staff would oppress them even more if they found it was Davis Washer who committed the bombing.

“Go home, get some rest. You guys are gonna have a busy day at school,” Saul ordered.

“Yes, Dad,” Henry rolled his eyes and took his leave.

“Don’t beat him up too hard,” Davish nodded at Reina, patting Daniel’s shoulder. Reina gave off a small smile.

“Later, brother. See ya, Rei’,” Quintus waved at the couple. Daniel must have gripped his rifle too hard. His right hand had small imprints of the metal guard rail of his rifle. He shook off his left hand, straightening out his trigger finger.

“I must have hit something on the way down,” Daniel said.

“The rest of the Agents did too. It’s not just you. You’re also a small boy, with baby lungs,” Reina said, putting away her medical supplies. Daniel scoffed.

“I’m 21 years old,” Daniel stared at his short legs. Reina was only a couple of inches taller than Daniel, a little bit more with heels. Reina finished cleaning her med bay, taking off her hair tie, letting her lush blonde hair flow free down her shoulders.

“And you’re still a boy.”

“Says the 22-year-old,” Daniel scoffed.

“Still older than you, sweetie.” Daniel grabbed his clothes from the window sill, returning to his roughs. Reina adjusted her ribbon on her collar and rolled up her sleeves. Daniel couldn’t imagine her having the scars that Daniel had. A dozen or so marks like a small knife had cut him up.

Reina sat beside Daniel, lifting his sleeve to inspect his small burn.

“At least this won’t turn into an ugly scar.”

“Heh, you love my scars,” Daniel said. Reina flicked Daniel’s temple.

“What are you gonna do tomorrow about Hawthorne? You’re not gonna see him, are you?”

“I do that, and then I would be defeating the purpose of being a secret Agent. Besides, he didn’t see my face, but if he’s smart, he’ll figure I’m someone from a school. But, as far as anyone is concerned, I’m just another cop,” Daniel said. Reina returned to Daniel, making sure he was okay for the umpteenth time.

“Everyone knows he’s not a good teacher.”

“Well, let’s just go home, okay?” Home. 10-minute drive. Home sounds nice.

1 hour later

“Reina Hunter”

Reina crashed onto her swivel chair, looking up at the ceiling light. Her bangs fell on her eyes, and she spluttered hoping it would fly out of the way. It didn’t work, and Reina had to settle for just moving it out of the way. Daniel was getting debriefed by the Director again on his performance at the bombing. Reina had dealt with a mass-casualty situation like this years ago. The Red Angel saves the officer. Little did she know she saved the man that would recruit her into the Unit. The air smelled like gasoline, the sky was covered in ash, and Reina’s hands were covered in vivid red and black.

Reina brought her bloodied hand up in the ceiling light, rotating her palm and watching the blood streak through her fingers. In a blink, it was gone. It was the Director’s blood that day. But earlier, it could have been Daniel’s. He’s dumb. But not as dumb as the students who purposely get themselves hurt just to get a look or two. Reina figured she shouldn’t say that about Daniel, but he’s proven to be recklessly courageous along with the rest of Raven Team. He had either nine lives or just had the greatest luck known to man.

October 4th, 2024

Post Bomb Site, Elite City

0700 hours

“Saul Eckhart”

Half of the commercial residential building was burned to ash. A chunk of the east side facing the street was gone. Drones with scaffolding material were working endlessly to ensure it was secure and that no more rubble could fall onto the ground. The street was blocked off for a quarter mile. ECPD’s crime scene investigation team was on the floor where Davis Washer was killed. Fortunately, he died by Raven Team, and not the fire. He still got burned anyway; at least he was dead for it.

Castor pixelated out of Saul’s watch and pulled up a preliminary assessment of the barren apartment suite.

“We aren’t at the center of the explosion. But I did assess that area. High levels of TATP were used in the bombing. A common explosive; made up of hydrogen peroxide. I don’t know how they managed to get the bomb in here in the first place.”

“The big question is, why detonate a bomb and stay here with hostages? Did you get a list of the deceased?” Saul asked. A tarp was put over where the windows used to be to prevent any wind from damaging the scene. There wasn’t much to document. Everything was charred to bits.

“12 dead. I have their names. I also did a lookup of Davis Washer. He was a student at Elite University Daniel said. Linebacker for the varsity football team. An average student, with only a handful of disciplinary actions on his student record. Verbal abuse. Disrupting class. Showing up late to class. It’s a wonder how he managed to stay on the football team,” Castor said as he was sliding through his holograms of documents.

A school shooting committed by a classmate was horrific enough. One would think that’s the limit a student could do. But a bombing committed by a student was unprecedented.

“What about our other shooters?”

“Died by Raven Team. Their remains burned in the fire so we can’t make out an ID,” Castor answered. Saul smacked his lips and held his beard. The target wasn’t the building itself. It was someone, not the 12 people that died, but someone. The hostage.

“Interesting,” Castor said. Saul looked down at his hand. It was a small portrait of an old man; his face was almost blurry but the AI was able to make it out clear as day.

“Any chance you can blow that up?” Saul asked.

“Oh. Right. Of course,” Castor spread his hands and blew up the picture in front of Saul.

“This is Mr. Tay Hawthorne. He was a resident here in this building on this…. floor… He lived here. And he’s dead,” Castor said.

“What?” Saul snapped his head to the AI, bringing him up to eye level. It was a simple statement, but it was illogical, one that Saul tried to dispute in his mind.

“He just died in the hospital.”

Manassas City Counter Terrorism Unit, Old Town Manassas

0730 hours

“Daniel Duong”

If Daniel’s parents had found out he’d been going to the Unit instead of school in the mornings, he’d been disowned. Reina would just scold her and take her to school. However, the 0730 SOS call wasn’t abnormal. He had to answer it a couple of times, but most of them were on the weekend anyway.

Daniel was sitting on the leather couch in Saul’s office, looking at the dusty portraits and awards of Saul’s past life. The AI was also bound to be somewhere in the walls or the ceilings.

“The Director is here,” Castor said as he pixelated onto Saul’s desk. Daniel got up and straightened out his flannel shirt and pants. The door opened and Saul came in, immediately closing the door.

“What do you know of the True Eagles?” he asked, catching Daniel off guard with such a random question.

“They’re a political group. I didn’t do a lot of writing on them, but their leader is Maggie Sudduth. Their whole objective is wanting Elite University to be free of ‘tyranny’.” Castor snapped his fingers and switched on the hanging TV opposite of Saul’s desk.

“This is Davis Washer, the man you guys killed. Force Investigation reported that you didn’t discharge your weapon?”

“I… The others got to him first.” Davis was going to kill that professor, yet Daniel thought for a moment he could have saved a classmate, even though he didn’t know him. Taking the life of a classmate…no, a domestic terrorist, was justifiable enough. Maybe Daniel should have taken the shot.

“Well, moving on, the man you saved, your history professor,” Saul said as Castor snapped his fingers again bringing up their photos side by side.

“I never had him, but I recognized him at the fire. A history professor of 10 years, but he wasn’t exactly popular.”

“He’s dead,” Castor bluntly said. Daniel turned to his superior and the AI, they didn’t have a hint of shock on their faces.

“Dead? How? We saved him,” Daniel said.

“Coded at the hospital.” The team got him out. He was fine. He was coughing like hell, but he seemed fine. Pair smoke inhalation with a 70-year-old man, God can take lives in an instant... Or perhaps it was just….

“Tragedy. I know. But all we can do is bring those that did this to justice.”

“Wait,” Daniel looked back at Davis Washer, “Davis is dead. Isn’t he behind the bombing?”

“Technically, yes. But he’s suspected to be part of the True Eagles. He was seen multiple times at True Eagles protests and on social media he’s posted his disdain for the University.”

School shootings. Domestic violence. Those things a police officer could expect out of a young adult in school, or anyone in general. But an entire group of students orchestrating a bombing was seemingly impossible.

Daniel creaked his head towards Saul and the AI, who were looking at him as if he had a plan, and he did.

“You want me to look into the True Eagles….”

“They have the motive. I’m not sure about the means. A school that’s been squeezing them with an iron fist and you take a student with dark motivations,” Saul tilted his head towards the screen which showed the aftermath of the bombing. It was like someone had bit off the side of a Kit Kat bar instead of splitting it in half like a normal human being.

“It’s not like I can just ask them if they bombed a building,” Daniel said. Castor immediately pixelated into a laughing emoticon; Saul held his breath, covering his mouth.

“Of course not. But what was it that you were that you were good at?”

“Journalism,” Daniel said. Saul nodded like a proud dad and Castor pixelated into a lightbulb. Writing about the True Eagles would be more difficult than writing about the Unit. It was an organization that didn’t exactly have a list of who was involved. There were two individuals that he was going to encounter for starters. The leader, who didn’t seem to be the type to rise to a political leader, and the woman who betrayed him from the beginning. It was going to be difficult, having to be essentially undercover.

The brief was straightforward, to say the least, and seemingly simple enough to an older investigator, with gray hair and a scruff. Daniel didn’t have the genetics to grow a full beard, much less a goatee. Besides, he hated having facial hair.

Daniel returned to the team cage that was on the opposite end of the Intelligence Center. It was opposites, with smaller cages inside with a stone décor, decorated with posters of Elite City and the American flag hanging at the back across from the double doors. In the center was a table littered with weapons and spare parts.

The other members of the Raven Team were there, along with the Chief Intelligence Analyst with her tablet.

“How’d it go with the big boss?” Quintus skipped over to Daniel, patting his shoulder as he went over to his cage.

“Uh,” Daniel scratched the back of his neck, walking over to the gun table, and placing his hands on both of the corners.

Henry was screwing on his holo-sight on his MCX carbine, keeping an ear out for Daniel’s response. Stella was close to his hip, scrolling away on her tablet.

“Saul wants me to investigate the True Eagles,” Daniel said. Henry finally turned to Daniel as he screwed on the last bolt for his sight. Davish came out of his cage, leaning on the fence.

“What’s that?” Davish asked.

Stella chimed in, “It’s a student political group that’s fighting against Elite University’s harsh rules and policies. It’s a wonder how you’re not expelled after that the article you posted about their ‘wrong-doings’.”

Quintus came back with his ballistic helmet tilted to the side of his head. “They probably figured out he was an Agent.”

Davish scoffed, walking over to Quintus, “Who’s the leader?” Davish stood in front of Quintus and adjusted his helmet to sit perfectly on his head. Quintus had a small smile, hoping he’d make Davish blush but he didn’t give the slightest hint of expression.

“Maggie Sudduth. She was no one, but suddenly arose to power uniting the different cells of protestors when the school started going down a bad path.”

“Sounds like the True Eagles are the ones going down a bad path,” Quintus said.

“But if the Davis Washer kid we killed was working for the True Eagles, then they lose all support and credibility. You can’t justify killing 12 innocent people to make a statement about… stupid lunch prices,” Henry pulled the charging handle of his MCX and locked the bolt to the rear, performing his 3-point inspection.

“Well, if protests aren’t enough, what next?” Davish asked, finally coming to the table from his cage. Everyone looked at Daniel, who was holding his FN545 handgun in his left hand.

It was deprived of its .45 Hollow-point rounds. Being a journalist wasn’t going to be enough to uncover the truth. If the True Eagles were going to resort to violence, then there’s no negotiating.

But, to know an enemy, one has to understand them. A student already died, along with a professor. Both were flawed in their ways, and neither side could justify their own based on their actions.

“We can’t arrest a whole school. What’s the playbook for this, boss?” Quintus asked.

“I’m writing it.”