Within the quiet, clean halls of the CIA headquarters, the typical white fluorescent lamps buzz endlessly. Electricity whirring quietly all throughout the facility, Vincent saunters through the halls, checking his phone every few minutes. Each step echoes throughout the marble floors and felt walls. The lights seem to go on forever. Every five feet, there's another identical lamp. "Tch..." thinks Vincent to himself; "too damn bright..."

Eventually, he sees his co-worker sitting on a chair, waiting outside an office. Jules leans over with his head down, staring at the floor.

"Yo," says Vincent upon arrival.

Caught off guard yet still in a haze, Jules slowly looks up at his co-worker. "What took you so long?"

"Code brown."

Woken up by the stench of sewage, Jules wrinkles his nose; "You're so gross 💀"

"Yeah honestly that's the last time I'm eating Taco Bell for breakfast. Anyway, what's up with you?"

Rolling his eyes before settling back to a distant stare, Jules replies, "nothing I'm just... tired. Also I've been waiting for you for the past half an hour or so."

"Typically you'd be pissed about me being late. What's the difference now?"

"Honestly, I am annoyed but for one, I'm tired, and two- at this point, I'm just used to it."

Vince makes an annoyed face.

💀

"Yeah, fine, I'll give you that one."

"You know they're going to scold us right?"

"Oh come on, its only been like-"

He checks his watch.

"4 minutes past the agreed meeting time. He hasn't come out and called you in yet, has he?"

Jules momentarily ponders, before raising his head, going "...Actually, no he hasn't. Suppose you got lucky this time."

"Luck huh?"

Vince shoots a cheeky grin before continuing.

"I don't really believe in superstitions but, I guess I am pretty lucky."

Jules raises his eyebrow while giving a deadpan stare.

Vinny puts his fists on his hips as he looks down back at him.

"What's that look for huh?"

"You're doing too much."

"Tch, and you're no fun."

"Boring vs annoying...

...

Are we really back to this conversation again?"

"Paha, I guess so," smiles Vincent. "Say, by any chance did they brief you in on what the meeting was about?"

"No."

"Tsk. Guess we'll se-"

The office door swings right open. Peering out of it was a sixty year old white man with white hair, a tall stature, and a decently firm build for a man his age.

"Ah, boys; right on time," says the chief. "Come on in."

Vincent grins once more while Jules rolls his eyes.

As they all sat down, the two agents look at each other, before Vincent starts.

"So chief, what's uh... what's the meeting about?"

"Before we begin," says the chief, "would you guys like a drink?"

Before either of them respond, the chief pulls out three glasses and a bottle of gin.

"What's the occasion," asks Jules with a perplexed look.

"Well, both of you are on time. That's reason enough to celebrate no?"

The chief pours half of the glasses full of gin.

Meanwhile, the two agents look at each other with concerned looks.

"Sir," starts Jules, "its 2 o'clock in the afternoon."

"Well that just means its happy hour somewhere," smiles the chief as he takes a swig.

Jules looks at Vincent; Vincent responds back with "don't look at me, I don't drink enough to know that."

"Well, we can change that right now. Come on! Half a glass never hurt anyone!"

The both of them glance at each other with the same look.

"Thank you sir but, I'll pass," says Jules; "Yeah, I'm good 💀" says Vinny.

"Oh. Hm. Well," shrugs the chief. "No reason to waste." He pulls both of the refused glasses near him and slowly sips on one.

"Mr. Washington..." starts Jules, "is something wrong?"

"Mmmm- *lip smack* yeah, I'm glad you could tell. What gave it away?"

The two agents glance at each other for a split second, before the chief interrupted.

"Nevermind that. I'm sure the both of you have honed your 'special training' these past couple months, right?"

"Oh hell yeah!" Shouts Vincent. "We've been cruising on the training. This shits so awesome! I wonder why we couldn't have done it earlier?"

"Yes," simply responds Jules.

"Great, because I'm going to need you boys for a very special mission. Due to the classified nature of the artifact, I can't spare many details about it but, long story short, a very strong artifact was stolen from us not too long ago. Its said this thing could level a small country."

"So like... a nuke?" asks Vincent.

"Worse. Its damage isn't as immediate as a bomb. But the fact that its spiritual in nature means that nobody, excluding sorcerers, can damage that thing. So imagine a disaster destroying everything in its path with no possible way of diverting or destroying it. Depending on where its deployed, of course this weapon could either last a decent amount of time before sorcerers destroy it, or it may even survive the destruction of the country, and continue onto another. But, fact of the matter is: we don't have the damn thing."

"I'm assuming you already sent people to investigate for it," comments Jules.

"Yeah, I did; Agent Straissand and Agent Carter specifically."

Jules furrows his brows. "They're the ones who took out-"

"Yeah," rebuts the Chief. "Alone, mind you. And guess what. That thing has a tracking device (naturally) so we sent the both of them expecting an easy in and out mission. A dingy motel in California? One or two guys looking after the thing? Piece of cake."

Chief Washington leans in and stares directly into both of the agents souls.

"Both of them dead within two hours of their deployment."

"WHAT?" shouts Vinny. "Straissand... he was so cool..."

"What about Carter?" comments Jules.

"Nah, she was a bitch."

"Gentleman," announces the chief.

"Tsk, yeah yeah, go on," says Vinny.

Jules punches Vincent's arm, before saying "sorry sir, continue."

"Anyway, we were considering on sending a whole force of our agents to their location but then here's the thing. Even if we sent our two best agents, who were one of the first people to really get into grips with magic mind you, we knew that if those two couldn't do it, then a group of novice magic agents wouldn't be able to do it, much less an army of agents with guns. And hell, even if we did, march in with a bunch of guns, I doubt that would do jack shit, and would cause noise to the civilians..." The chief takes a brief moment to chug the rest of his drink, before continuing. "And *hic*- not saying I would ever suggest this but, in a hypothetical timeline where I would agree to bombing the place, AGAIN, NOT SAYING I WOULD EVER SUGGEST IT, we don't know how that would react to the artifact. Last thing we need is that thing's effects running around in the country. And the more annoying part, even if we did bomb the place, the FBI would come knocking on our door, and no matter how hard and effective we can cover our tracks, they're just... they're just ANNOYING, you know?"

"(He's rambling)" whispers Vinny.

"(I know)" replies Jules.

"And then, even if we wanted to get another agency on our side like the FBI, those bastards would die too! You know? God damn it, sorry I'm just..."

Washington takes a deep breath, before regaining his bearings.

"My bad. Long story short, as it turns out, the whole debacle was all Senor Frank's dumbass fucking things up again. It took us two hours worth of playing telephone with Frank to get that vendor and his Chinese goon from killing us all."

Jules' eye twitches at the sound of the name. Vincent notices.

"How did that happen?" asks Vincent.

"Well, I think you already know the guy holds special immunity within the company. From the basic gist of it, he's allowed to do whatever the hell he pleases. Even though he's technically not officially a part of the CIA, he has close ties to the directors. Not to mention, I get magic regimens to train you guys from him, so in a roundabout way, he's above me in terms of ranking. So, to no one's surprise, he made a note saying he'll 'borrow' the artifact, and then by borrowing it, the guy lent it to a vendor in the black market. The worst part is, he didn't even write a note. If he did, we wouldn't be here running all over the place for the damn thing and yet- here we are. Its like the rumors say..."

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

The chief takes one more swig of the glass.

"He's the devil..."

Jules and Vincent look at each other, then back at him.

"That was...

...

Gonna be honest, that was cheesy 💀"

"I hate to pile on you like this sir but, yeah I'm going to have to agree on Vincent with this one."

Washington waves it off.

"You get the gist. Frank is the one who got us in this mess."

Vincent clicks his tongue.

"Don't even imply he's the devil. The devil is malicious and pure evil, but this guy's just a slimy rat. I don't get what's so scary about this Mexican if all does is just toy with what isn't his. In theory that sounds scary but every time I hear about this guy, he's just dicking around."

"He's not Mexican," rebuts Jules.

"Senor Frank is just an alias. Yeah he has pitch black hair, but that's the only thing 'Mexican' about him."

"You've seen him before?" asks Vinny.

"Yeah-"

Jules stops midsentence, before rubbing his head.

"What's up dude?"

"Nothing I just... I just need to go to bed. I'm sorry sir but, can we wrap this up?"

"Ah, no worries son; we were about to finish anyway. As of lately, the artifact is now off of the vendor's hands, and for whatever reason, Frank made it clear that he didn't care about the thing after the vendor was done with it so... we're gonna take it back. But, first thing's first, I believe its best to get intelligence on the people who bought it first, before taking it back. I know this side of the black market is cryptic as hell, but the fact that they were able to buy it off the vendor at such a high price, as well as being knowledgeable about the magic world in the first place tells me there's an opportunity for business here. So just spy on them, and if they have anything valuable, then hold off on the plan and report to me. If they seem worthless though, then kill them. The technology department will send you coordinates on where the tracker is located in a couple of hours."

"Sure, sounds easy enough," comments Vincent.

"Hold on," interrupts Jules. "How did Agent Straissand and Agent Carter die?"

"Peacefully," replies chief Washington. "At least in a macabre way. Upon autopsy their bodies looked perfectly fine, however, with the help of x-rays and dissections, it revealed that their brains were mashed into paste. While we were there, with a brief moment of truce after the whole debacle was explained, the vendor explained to us that his bodyguard flicked them on the forehead. On the forehead! Yet we examined high and low- not a single piece of evidence suggesting any impact to their skin... or any other surface on the body for that matter. I know I'm the chief of spiritual affairs, but you already know this is a relatively young field, especially when it comes to actually having our men apply and investigate it. The decades prior were just researching how to translate a single word... only for it to mean-"

"Tongue, yes I know," comments Jules, rolling his eyes. "Believe me, this one already explained how stupid our program began."

Vincent grins.

"Anyway," finishes up the chief, "where I'm getting at is that we're still young. You two may tower over any other Olympic participant in terms of strength, speed, and actual abilities-

but this is a whole other level. Something tells me these guys you're about to spy on are weaker than the bodyguard. I don't have any solid evidence, but my basic logic goes: if they would be strong enough to beat him, then they would take the artifact without paying. But, that didn't happen. Still, 'being weaker' than one person is an entirely different can of worms. A tank is weaker than a MOAB strike; doesn't mean you're going to survive a god damn tank missile to the face."

Jules raises his finger while starting to open his mouth.

"-without abilities I mean."

Jules lowers his finger.

"That being said, I believe you two are more than ready to take this mission on. Are you?"

"Hell yeah!" Shouts Vinny.

"Of course," affirms Jules.

"Very well," says the chief.

The three of them stand up; the chief raises his glass.

"Say, before you two leave," he says before sitting down. "I need to have a private meeting with the two of you. The other one can wait outside."

Both Vincent and Jules look at each other confused.

"Let's start with you Jules. Vincent, close the door on your way out."

"...Oookay."

Vincent does so as he leaves; Jules sits down, looking eye to eye with the chief.

"Now Jules, I know you're a very smart man. And I know you're very close to Vincent-"

Jules snickers.

The chief raises his eyebrow, before the agent pretends to cough. "Excuse me chief- continue."

"...very well. I know Vincent is the rambunctious type, but we at the company don't like that- you know this. He's a very capable man- when he feels like it. I know he's your partner, but we have plenty of co-workers available if-"

"Vincent isn't anything special to me. He thinks we're friends, but I only see him as a co-worker. It doesn't matter if you switch him out with another person; it doesn't matter if you shoot him in from of me. I work for my sake, and my sake alone."

The chief stares at Jules. Just as the chief was about to continue, Jules continues his interruption.

"If I'm being honest, I don't know why you partnered me up with anyone in the first place. Hell, partnered me with him no less. Sorry to interrupt sir, just voicing my complaints."

The chief's lips quiver for a moment, before readjusting his glasses and continuing. "Ah well... yes. That means telling you this will be easy. You see, when agents pass the academy as well as the training regimen, we forcefully implant a chip on the back of everyone's brainstem. None of you remember this, and nobody is exempt. Even the highest people ranked here- including me- still have theirs."

Jules stares at his boss with an unflinching gaze. The boss continues.

"That being said, only people of high ranks know the individualized pass codes to detonate the chip. If you couldn't guess already, the chip is a small bomb. You know, typical CIA fashion heheheh." The chief forces a light chuckle. Jules continues staring with a muted expression.

"...

Well anyway Jules, I, and the rest of the chiefs of the other departments believe you're ready to be handed the code to Vincent's chip. If he's ever acting too out of line, too suspicious, or for whatever reason, you just FEEL that he's not worth the trouble anymore-" the chief tilts his head; "go ahead and say this line aloud."

The chief leans in. Jules lends his ear.

"Mint Spaghetti with a side of peppermint ice cream."

The both of them lean back to their seats. The chief starts once again.

"I'm sure you already know the typical CIA tricks. If anybody tries to deactivate their chip, it explodes. If anybody touches the specific point where the bomb is located, it explodes. If somebody tries to use magic on the chip, it explodes. Anything done to that thing, it explodes. Simple."

"What happens if I get struck there," asks Jules.

The chief shrugs. "You die. Just... don't get hit!"

Jules clicks his tongue.

"And whats the significance of the code?"

"Ah well its pretty basic. Its something so specific, yet something you could slip in a conversation that you could activate it without them noticing. If you start spouting gibberish, especially if there's open conflict between two people, they'll stop at anything to shut the other person up before they complete the line. Even if its a simple word, with the aid of magic or ki or whatever, they could be fast enough to interrupt it. So, that's why we took the subtle approach."

"Hm. Is that all, sir?"

"Yeah, that's about it. Go on and grab Vincent for me, would you?"

"Affirmative."

As Jules exits out the door, Vincent is sitting down, watching a video on his phone. He looks up at Jules, smiles, then takes his earphones out.

"Hey! What'd you guys talk about?"

Without looking at Vincent Jules sits down and responds.

"Nothing important. He's waiting for you."

🤨

Vinny shrugs and walks inside, closing the door on his way in. He sits down and automatically opens his mouth.

"So boss, what did I do this time."

The chief smiles and responds with a bright demeanor. "Oh nothing, you're never really a concern for us. If anything, you're a lot more competent than a lot of these people."

"Uh huh," says Vincent, putting his phone away.

"Your progress in the field of magic is something to behold, really."

"Yeah," replies the agent, looking at his nails.

"Out of everyone in training course, you were the top student. Out of 100 agents qualified, 62 agents failed, 10 were critically injured before they could complete it, 14 graduated to the spiritual branch, and the other 14 were automatically assigned to the special fo-"

"Sir, I hate to sound brash but, I highly doubt you called me over just to glaze me. Besides, you don't need to remind me. I was there, after all."

The chief readjusts his glasses while holding a stern face.

"Quite. You understand how great you are- yet you squander your potential. You could've joined the unit, and yet, you decided to stay back with the rest of these mediocre agents." The chief leans in.

"Why."

Vincent sighs and finally responds.

"You know why..."

Vincent takes off his glasses. He looks outside the sunny window and takes a deep breath.

"I've always known I was great. I always thought that getting my ego sucked dry would've completed me in life. The more I did however, the more tired I got. And that's when I found... my companion."

The chief looks stunned.

"Oh... I didn't know it was that deep."

"Oh but of course it is sir. Who else could complete me. Who else would accompany me in such lonely nights. The blankets get cold after all but... its them... the one to complete me...

The whore known as.... sloth..."

The chief turns red.

"I see well, I don't know how to tell you-"

The chief then looks up.

"Wait what-"

Vincent grabs the chief's suit with pleading fists. His face overexaggerates itself with disgustingly sad proportions.

"I ADMIT IT SIR! I AM BUT- A LAZY FUCK! TWO BAGS OF DORITOS AND PEPPERMINT ICECREAM. CHOCOLATE BARS AND APPLE CIDER BEER. OH WOE IS ME, FOR I HAVE BECOME, THE SINNER OF SNEED."

Vincent lets go of the chief's suit before sitting back down with a leaned back posture, a relaxed stare and a raised eyebrow.

"Is that what you wanted to hear, sir?"

Flabbergasted, the Chief furrows his eyebrow. Unsure on whether or not to activate Vincent's chip right then and there, or applaud his admittedly impressive performance, the chief stays silent and simply stares at the agent.

The agent rolls his eyes. "Look sir, I'm comfortable here and that's that."

After what felt like five minutes, the chief finally composes himself and coughs.

"Very well then... well, I called you over to talk about Jules. He's a great agent, but he's quite... lacking. His prowess in ki and magic are decent, but for some reason its like he doesn't want to use psychopower-"

"He can't." Assured Vincent.

"I've talked to him about it before. We don't know what it is either but for now, it seems like he's going to have to depend on those two. Besides, that's the only thing he lacked in during the course. He had flying colors for the rest of the course."

"Yes but, we need as many agents to be all-rounders when they begin."

"Not Jules. I understand where you're coming from but, I come from the land of logic. If you let him specialize in two of those abilities, his specialization will triumph over any all-rounder, and the only hurdle would be to worry about psychopower. But he's smart enough to figure it out. And if he dies, well... he dies. That's the way it is."

Washington purses his lips.

"Well... speaking of Jules dying, I called you over for that very reason."

Vincent raises his eyebrow; his gaze tilted, lowered.

"What."

"You see, for every agent here, we operate on them with the very same procedure. Whether they run out of line, they try to defect, or do something stupid, a code phrase is used to deactivate the agent. Jules is slightly different."

Vincent's eyes widen.

"I'm sure you're aware of his background-"

"That he's from Chicago? That he was raised by a single mother?"

Vincent grips the chair's handles. The chief looks away.

"...Right.

Well in whatever extreme or dangerous case you two see yourselves in, say this phrase to Jules. And I must repeat, do not use this unless you absolutely need it."

The chief leans in; Vincent worriedly listens.

"Bxgpcsp Qgnrt."

Vincent leans back and stares at the chief.

"Wha-

What does it do?" asks Vincent.

The chief takes a deep breath. He leans forward and rests his elbows on his desk. He stares at Vincent's wavering eyes. The chief looks down, then looks back at those very same eyes. He purses his lips.

"I say this with complete sincerity. I know you won't believe me, but I can even make a contract just to show you how honest I'm being. On my mother,

On everything I hold dear-

I don't know."

.

.

.

The door slams shut. Vincent looks at the ground with pursed lips before looking back up at his friend. Jules was beginning to doze off. The white agents taps his comrade on the shoulder.

"Hey."

Jules tiredly looks up. "What?"

"What are you feeling for lunch. Its on me." He shoots a smile at Jules.

Jules instinctively shoots back a tired smile as he gets up.

"I'm feeling Red Lobster right now."

"Wha-"

Vincent rams himself into his friend.

"IN YOUR FUCKING DREAMS- YOU THINK I HAVE THAT TYPE OF MONEY?"

Waking up, Jules gives back the treatment.

"YOU DO HAVE THE MONEY DON'T EVEN LIE! YOU JUST OFFERED!"

"YEAH BECAUSE I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO ASK FOR RATDONALD'S! MF OVER HERE EXPECTING A THIRTY DOLLAR GOURMET MEAL- FOR LUNCH. I'M SICK."

The two of them continue to squabble;

All the way to Red Lobster.

.

.

.

Closer and closer in the dead of night.

Three cloaked figures walk on the property of a farm. A sprawling field of corn is set before them.

Wisconsin.

"This way."