As soon as I closed the door behind me, Owen released James from the headlock. The redhead immediately dropped to his knees, coughing and taking in huge gasps of air.

"What the actual fuck was that?" Owen towered over him and demanded. His deep blue eyes gleamed under his spidery-thin white blond hair.

It took James a moment, but he eventually strained to his feet and violently swiped at the trickle of blood coming out his nose. His usual tranquil stature was gone, replaced with high shoulders and trembling hands balled into tight fists. The tears that Hunter provoked were long gone. His red hair was raked to his left from the fight.

He put a hand on the wall beside him and used it for balance while he rubbed his synthetic knee cap in circles. "That was me getting even," he told Owen harshly.

Owen rubbed his forehead painstakingly. "You did exactly what he wanted James..." He dropped his hand. "You let him get to you. Why couldn't you just keep it in?" His blue eyes were round and worried, not at all what they were when he patrolled the hallways day and night.

"Some people have a little more trouble than others," James said forcefully, still rubbing his bad knee. "Some people don't have the stubborn ability to take shit all the damn time."

"Believe me, I'd quit if I could," Owen said, crossing his arms over his chest. "But you and I both know that we can't just walk out of here." James rolled his eyes defiantly. "You think I like being his personal assistant? Waiting on him 24/7, spying on my friends all the time?" Owen asked, knitting his blond eyebrows together.

"I don't care if you like it. Neither does Flagg, but you do it anyway," James snapped at him. "I tried to do what you asked, sit back and just accept getting bullied, let myself get physically beaten all the time." Owen's gaze softened, but James' tone got fiercer. "I get shit from morons like Martin and Patterson, I get kicked and mocked and disowned, and you obey Flagg's every word, the man who made it all happen!" James yelled, drawing in a large breath.

I still couldn't believe that Owen was the one that he had "fraternized" with. The Director said he expelled the guy, he actually did expel someone, but I guess Owen was too important to let go, James too, and he wanted it to look real. Flagg made sure they'd never see each other again, at least not in person anyway. Owen could only see James through the cameras. And Owen was so...austere. He was dedicated, serious, focused and loyal. Except for right now. Maybe this was what he was like when he was with James; he wasn't as governing or as stubborn, more like gentle and kind. But he was older and bigger than James, and even their hair clashed. James was the nerd, Owen the jock if you wanted it calculated into high school movie clichés. It was just hard to picture in my head. And I had absolutely no idea, no premonition or even suspicion whatsoever that Owen was gay. I suppose he's the real spy here in that case.

And Zach was involved too? Somehow? God, all the new information blowing up in my face made me want to squint and rub my temples. The story that nobody at the agency really knew the exact truth behind, the one that had been twisted and spun for years practically into a legend, I finally knew the truth about. But the scariest thing was that it all made sense.

Zach and Owen had been in the same training group years back. They were good friends actually. Maybe Zach figured out what Hunter had too, but just never told the Director. I desperately wanted to fill in the gaps in the fiasco, the infamous scandal that earned James bruises almost every day of his life since the final incident. But the boys involved clearly didn't want to talk about it. Well, James didn't. Not all high on adrenaline and pulsing aggression like he was now. It was a new look for the usually passive 23 year-old.

Adira looked terrified of him. She avoided making eye contact, and shifted her body as far as she could away from him. She brushed my shoulder with hers, breathing quick and keeping her mouth shut.

"James," Owen said, voice shaking a little. It didn't sound right for his usually serious tone to crack. "Hunter wanted you to fight him. He wanted me to come running to stop you, so Flagg would punish me and make Hunter the Inspector instead."

James scoffed, taking his hand off the wall and standing straight up. "Why would he punish you? You're his fucking golden boy."

"He'll punish me, by punishing you. Like he did... like he did last time." Owen stayed still, tilting his head down at us all. He was almost as tall as Zach at about 6'3. "You underestimate how far the Director is willing to go just to keep good agents."

James let out a humorless laugh. "You do not get to say that to me," he said up at Owen, his words contracting with fire. "I know more than anyone what Flagg is damn well capable of."

Owen looked confused. He tripped over his words for a second before asking, "what is the matter with you?"

James scoffed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"James," Owen squinted, gesturing blindly to the door to the training room, "you just—you just fucking stabbed Hunter in the foot. You were relentlessly beating him —you could have killed him! Have you ever even tried to hurt anybody on purpose like that before?"

"Stop acting like you know me Hoffmann. I knew what was I was doing in there."

Owen looked taken back, hurt even. "What did he say to you?"

James looked away moodily. "Enough. Something I should have gotten into my thick skull a long fucking time ago."

"You're being... rude. And... explosive. It's freaking me out," Owen spluttered. "You're never like that, what the hell is—"

James' eyes glinted with hate. "And how the hell would you know what I'm like Hoffmann, huh? When was the last time we talked? Actual fucking years ago? Stop pretending like nothing's changed." He clenched his fists tighter, looking like he was going to try and hit him.

Owen snuffed out a shaky breath, eyes brimming with...tears. The guy who never showed the slightest ounce of emotion, ever, the Director's appointed right hand man, was gonna... cry? "Come on," he whispered. "Jay—"

"DO NOT CALL ME THAT!" James screamed at him. Adira jumped backwards at the noise. My heart skipped a beat. Owen clamped his mouth shut. James' voice echoed off the ceiling. The hallway went dead silent, expect for James' loud breathing. He gritted his teeth, swiped at the blood that started to dribble out his nose again, and walked back towards the training room. "You don't get to fucking call me that," he spat at Owen as he passed him.

The hallway went quiet again as James stalked back to the training room, leaving the door open behind him. I was positive Owen and Adira could hear me swallow.

I tentatively started, "Owen—"

The look that he gave me cut me off. His light blue eyes had darkened again, clouding the feeling that James had brought out, shading it with the blank mask that he always wore. "Just...shut up Lawrence," he muttered. He barged between us and stalked his way back up the stairs at the end of the hallway.

"Oh my god," Adira whispered as he disappeared.

"Oh my god," I agreed in disbelief.

"James...what was wrong with him?" She whispered.

I shook my head. "I'm not sure. I've seen it in other agents before. Sometimes they just break."

"But James, he's—he's not like that," Adira said quietly, nervously curling a blonde strand of hair around her ear. Her hair was pulled up and tied behind her, exposing the stitching on her left side. We didn't get a chance to talk about her surgery before training started, but I hoped it all went okay. Right now though we seemed to have bigger problems. Bigger problems being a loose, mutinistic redhead.

As Adira and I went back into the training room we watched two agents help Hunter get to his feet. The Australian was hissing and swearing through his teeth at the pain. He started forward on one foot, assisted by an agent on either side of him, both with one of his arms wrapped around their shoulders.

James was off by the large sink that we had for rinsing injuries and weapon, wiping the scarlet blood off his hands.

Zach approached Hunter, instructing him to hold out his injured foot, which still had the knife speared through it. The tip poked out the other end of Hunter's boot, dripping blood.

I'd seen some gross stuff before. Harrison once got shot in the shoulder when we were in Bogota, and I had to pick the bullet out of him with a toothbrush. He repaid the favor when someone stabbed me in the gut with an unbent hanger this one time we were in Sydney.

There's nothing better to keep you on your toes than thinking about all the eccentric ways you could be killed.

Zach bent down and quickly yanked the knife out of Hunter's foot.

The Australian cried out, blindly spewing curses at the ceiling. The corner of James' mouth crept up in a twistedly satisfactory way. He dabbed at his forming black eye and then draped the cloth down over the side of the sink after ringing it out.

"I would have kept it in," he called as he crossed the room to where Adira and I were standing.

"Oh fuck you Strider!" Hunter spat. Zach nodded at the agents to take him to the infirmary.

The Canadian glanced down at James' bloodstained knife in his hands, stepping out of the way so Hunter could limp out of the room. He snapped his cold blue eyes up to James, then approached the three of us and handed the redhead the knife.

"You're a fucking psycho, Strider." His eyes were venomous.

James tilted his head at the Canadian in front of him. "Does it look like I give a shit?"

"He'll hurt him, you know," Zach said. "You gave Martin exactly what he wanted. Flagg will make Owen howl in pain. Just like he did to you."

James gripped the hilt of his knife until his knuckles went white.

Hunter continued to spew insults into the hallway until Zach slammed the door shut behind him and they were cut off.

The room went dead silent. Everyone either stared at the specks of Hunter's blood still smeared onto the black mat, or not-so inconspicuously at James. Suddenly Adira wasn't the most interesting thing in the room anymore.

"Hope you're all warmed up," Zach started. He glared at James for a moment more, then dragged his cold blue eyes away and looked around at the rest of his trainees.

"Continuing with the plan, we'll run a Street course now." Smiles crept up each agent's face, including my own. "Level 7s and the other level 8 group will be out there." There was an appreciative murmur from around the group, the smiles turning into devilish smirks at the sudden chance we got to prove themselves. Adira wrapped her arms tighter around herself and let out a small huff. "Teams of four," Zach continued to instruct as he crossed his muscular arms. "We'll time it. Make it a competition, or whatever the hell will boost your egos," he finished dully. He strutted towards towards the back door of the training room, which lead directly out to what we agents called the Street.

The whole group eagerly followed Zach, shoving each others shoulders and already plotting how they'd smash the other agents in the game we were about to play.

Adira hesitated for just a moment, but then scurried forwards to walk out the door with James and I.

-

The Street, was literally a city street, just within the agency's grounds. A large concrete road about 50 feet wide, surrounded by real city buildings on both sides, varying in heights. A five foot wide sidewalk was on either side as well. The full length of the street was about 300 feet, roughly the same size as a football field. There were parked cars along the edges of the sidewalk and road, and four were stationed in the middle of the street as if they were driving. Sunlight glinted off the real glass windows fitted into each building. They got shattered practically every time the set up was used. The tallest building stood at about a hundred feet tall, and each one had a five foot wide open alleyway in between it and the next building over. The interiors of the buildings were fully furnished, with tables, chairs, bedrooms, bathrooms and kitchens, all for practice.

We practiced jumping out windows, jumping from building to building and climbing up the buildings here, using the specialized gadgets developed by additional secret government corporations to assist parkour efficiency. The agency was well funded, that's for sure, and most of the money went into developing practice scenarios like the Street, the military style obstacle course, the Olympic track, and weight room that also existed here. Working out for hours everyday sucked but at least we did it with style.

I spent more time here than anyone knew. When I lived in Chicago there were always police, druggies, drunks, and just people around the city streets, constantly, so I always snuck up to rooftops. I'd stare up at the stars, watch the sunset, or look down at the people and metal cars whizzing back and forth beneath me. Every spare chance I got I came out here to the Street to do the same thing, but that was before Flagg updated the security system, which was just after James was caught. Jesus, I still couldn't believe I knew what really happened there. Or at least part of it. Clearly there was a lot more to the story, but I would really like to walk normally for the rest of my life, so asking James about it was definitely a no-go.

I glanced at Adira's bright blue eyes as she looked up and studied the constructed set up. Now that we were in natural light I could see how much she had changed in the month I was gone. Little braids were threaded through her hair that I hadn't noticed earlier. The stitching by her eye had been removed and that whole side of her face was much cleaner than it had been. I smiled as she squinted and marveled at the sight around her.

I turned my head back around, attracted to the noises that came from the other groups of agents that had gathered around one of the cars parked in the middle of the street. Some were leaning against it or crouching down by the tires, including Harrison.

"You playing?" I asked James as we continued closer to the other groups.

"Do you think Zach will let me?" James asked back.

"I don't think you'll listen to him no matter what he says, so, yes," I replied.

"This is an active game and," he waggled his bad leg, "hello?"

I pointed to the scarlet blood speckling his neck. "Considering what you just did to Hunter, I wouldn't be too sure."

Harrison nodded a greeting once we reached his group. He was like me —didn't fit the norm of massive muscular men who made up his training group. We were both quick though, and that's how we stayed alive. I was banking on the fact that since Adira shared the same quality we might just win this damn game.

Harrison scanned the boys who had come with us. "Where's Martin?" He asked.

"Funny story about that," I started, tilting my head at James.

"Strider stabbed him in the foot," one of the agents in my group reported. He grinned and shook his head at James. "Right through to the floor."

Harrison's jaw dropped. He glanced between the guy who spoke and James himself. "No shit?"

"Hell yeah," the guy continued. "It was fucking awesome. No idea you had it in you Strider."

James rose his shoulders up to his ears uncomfortably and scuffed his feet together.

Harrison blinked. "Is—Is he serious? You stabbed—I'm sorry, what?"

"Teams of four, asshats," Zach called.

I turned to face Adira. "You ever played capture the flag?"

-

"So, how was Italy?"

I glared up at Adira from about four feet below her. Scuffs and small red scratches surrounded my knuckles, wrists, and fingertips as I clung to the side of the brick building in a similar position as her. The toes of my boots were barely resting on the cusp of a window ledge below me. "Seriously?" I retorted dully. "Now?"

"Just trying to make conversation," she said lightly, then vaulted up to the next window ledge.

"Show off," I muttered, but scaled to the same height as her after hauling myself upwards in two quick movements and for once not wobbling when my feet hit the ledge. She stuck her tongue out at me.

Suddenly there was gunshots from a couple buildings down.

"Shit," I said, ducking as the fire picked up. "We need to move."

"Yeah no shit Laurie, Harding's team is already like six buildings down already," Harrison's voice blared into my earpiece and I flinched.

"We're waiting for you dumbass," I said back.

"Like bugs on a windshield," James said into his earpiece. "If the windshield is the side of a building and the bullets are a...windscreen wiper."

"Thank you James, your similes are much appreciated," Adira said next to me, glancing down 20 feet to the ground below us. "Did you get what you needed?"

There was a small pause on our end before James answered. "Yeah but I can't go out there now." More bullets echoed, louder than they were before. "Unless you want me shot and leave you to slide down the staircase into enemy fire."

"Not even the passenger side door?" I asked him.

"I guess," James said, but sounding hesitant and a little afraid.

"Jesus Strider this isn't an 'I guess' kinda moment." Harrison's east coast accent hit my eardrum hard. "Its a 'make-a-damn-decision before-one-of-us-gets-shot' kinda moment. I make two guys stationed in the lobby, both level 8s and all I got is 13 fucking stun bullets, you see me complaining?"

"See you? No. But these earpieces really pick up a lot. More complaining than I expected from a boy who talks a game bigger than his head," Adira said.

"First combat exercise in a while gimme a break," we all heard James mutter.

I hummed.

"Kicking Hunter's ass doesn't count," he said louder. Then he groaned, "Oh god he's going to actually kill me later."

"I wonder if I could pay Hoffmann in weed for the security footage of that," Harrison wondered out loud. "Use it the next time Martin thinks he's smooth cheating at poker."

He didn't give us any time to respond. "Adira, Laurie, you stay there. I'll be up in a sec." Then he fell silent. We heard firing begin in front entrance to the building Adira and I were currently clinging to. He must have begun his entrance. Fire that loud and constant only ever followed one person, and that was almost always Harrison Andrews. He never quite understood the whole subtlety and discreteness of being a spy. He was good though, which is why we were trusting him with carrying out the burden of our plan.

While we waited for Harrison to do his bit, Adira and I had to cling to the side of the building, already 20 feet in the air. And she wanted to make small talk about Italy, the mission I'd fucked up partly because I'd been worried about her.

"How is it having an earpiece in?" I asked her. I knew a similar device to the ones we were wearing in our ears was a part of the tech pellet which had been stitched in around her eye when she worked for the monsters who destroyed her life.

"Fine. It's just you guys listening so it's okay." Her blue eyes were darker in the shade of the building we were on.