Altan Luk. Erdent, Mongolia. 23. Level 8. Everyone calls him Lucky since he's pulled off some absolutely legendary stunts before. Can wield basically every weapon in existence —spears, chain whips, axes, ninja stars, ak47s. He holds the all time record for quickest time on the obstacle course by 15 seconds, and he's been to all seven continents too. The definition of badass.

Lautaro Pérez. Ausablia, Honduras. 22. Level 7. Kick ass driver. Like, major kick ass. He's also a killer engineer and a mechanic —he can make anything out of anything. Always fiddling with something in his hands to counteract his ADHD.

Callum Oakleigh. Dublin, Ireland. 25. Level 9. 6'1. Black. Head of the medical wing, trained surgeon and emergency medic. Unarguably the nicest guy in the whole agency. He's pretty muscular for being one of the non-combatant agents, but I've never seen him be intimidating in his life, which is good considering the amount of injuries he has to attend to that spur from testosterone clouding our judgements. Cal for short.

Lautaro is engineering. Cal is the medic. Lucky is our weapons guy. Blitz is chemicals. James is tech. I'm undercover. Adira is infiltration. Owen is mission leader.

I barely had time to brief Adira on the agents she didn't know as she, James and I left the Street and went upstairs to the briefing room we were supposed to go to.

"You okay?" I asked her quietly. Our footsteps were muffled on the thin carpet of the second floor.

She nodded.

James and I walked on either side of her and exchanged a look over her head. Clearly she wasn't okay. Nervousness and fear wrecked across her face plain as day, recognizable even for people who didn't know her.

We reached briefing room 3.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

I whirled around to Axel. "Yes."

He raised his hands. "Sorry, sorry. Just checking."

"I'm fine," I said through gritted teeth. I was just nervous. What was wrong with that? My first mission, and a lot was riding on it. I wanted to impress Flagg, or at least prove to him that I was a worthy asset and he didn't waste his time and resources making me an agent. And if I messed up that would reflect bad on Axel. I also wanted to help people, if that was what the mission involved. Hopefully it would ease my conscience and I could sleep better for once.

"Sorry," Axel murmured, intricate eyes falling to the floor.

My heart dropped. "No no it's nice of you to care I just mean—"

"Apology accepted," James butted in. "But focusing on the now, what are we gonna do?"

"What do you mean?" Axel asked.

James balked. "Weren't you listening? Owens' in there." His dark amber eyes went wide.

"And?"

"And... he's... we just..." The redhead fluttered his hands about, "Flagg hasn't sent us on missions together since he found out about... everything. That was almost four years ago."

"Pretty sure the cameras picked up on every word of your fight with him earlier," Axel noted, "I don't think he's too worried about you two starting anything up again."

James wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I'd never," said dully.

"Well there's a problem right there," I said. "You two fighting isn't gonna make for a successful team mission."

"Deera's right," Axel said. "In order for this mission to work, for everyone to survive and Flagg to not punish us when we get back, James —you have to keep your knives to yourself and leave your ex-boyfriend—"

"He was never my boyfriend," James spat.

"Fuck buddy?" Axel suggested.

James glared at him. "Fuck you more like."

Axel sighed. "You know what I mean." He flicked his hazel eyes to me for a split second. "Please?" He said to James.

The redhead fidgeted for a moment, shrugging out his shoulders and eyeing the door. Finally he sighed. "Yeah, fine. Don't stab anyone again. Don't even talk to Owen. Got it." Then he pointed a finger at Axel. "But I'm older than you."

Axel smiled. "Affirmative."

"You go in," James said, gesturing to the briefing room. "I want a word with Adira for a sec." He looked at me like I was in trouble and he was my Dad. I licked my lips nervously. Now that I had seen him stab a guy in the foot, my whole perspective on his abilities changed.

Axel opened the door to the briefing room and went inside. James helped shut the door behind him and then whirled around to me.

"What was that?" He demanded.

I tilted my head at him.

"He called you 'Deera," James stated blankly, blinking several times as if he couldn't possibly comprehend why on earth I let Axel give me a nickname.

I kept my head tilted at him.

James opened and closed his mouth a couple times. "You judo flipped Harrison when he tried calling you that."

"He called me Deerie, that's different," I rolled my eyes. "And he's a douchebag."

"What's next?" James went on, glaring at me. "Touching?"

I recoiled away from him a little. "What? No. I don't like being touched at all, by anybody. Ever. You know that. You know why."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Are you sure you don't like him—"

"James!" I protested. "We went over this. I really don't, okay? You know why I'm hyper aware of men. Axel was first person in years to be nice to me. He gets me. That's it. Would you just drop it?" I begged. James sighed, reluctantly. "Oh come on," I started to tease. "Are you the overprotective guy friend and the gay best friend now too?"

"If I have to be," he growled.

"Hey, considering I'm good, you're free to take shots at him."

James glared his brown eyes at me even more. "I think I'll pass. He looks too much like Harrison."

"And not enough like Owen?"

He scoffed and uncrossed his arms to reach for the door handle. "You're also gonna make this mission a pain as well if you keep going on about that."

"I'm looking forward to it already. So you'll keep true to your word about putting the mission as the top priority, right? Not squabbling or anger flirting with Owen?"

James retracted his hand from nearing the door handle. "Only if he will."

I groaned. "There you go again! You're both professionals, both with pretty extreme reasons to get a job done. You trusted him at some point right? Can't you do the same now?"

James sucked in his cheeks and shook his head at the floor. "When I exploded earlier today, I don't know how much of the screaming rant at Owen you understood but..." he let his shoulders drop. "I can't forgive him Adira. Every time I think about him it hurts. And there's so much that you don't know about what happened, about what we did, and I just..." he shook his head again, looking back up at me. "I'll keep my cool for the sake of this mission. I know it means a lot to you, that this is your first chance to prove yourself, but if he instigates anything at all I won't hesitate to sock him in the jaw."

"You realize he's almost half a foot taller than you right?"

"And?"

"He's also like four years older?"

"Three and a third," he corrected. "And I kicked Hunter's ass good didn't I? That pushover German ain't no different." He twitched his eyebrows flirtatiously before grabbing the handle to the briefing room door and yanking it open.

-

"Italian Navy General and Italian representative in the NATO alliance, General Davide Basilone. Or rather, ex-general. Lived in Taranto, Italy with his wife Elena. Now he's gone missing," Director Flagg stated. He shifted his dark gaze over to Axel. "Lawrence?" He prodded with some underlying annoyance.

Axel shifted in his chair, eyeing the seven others sitting at the same table with him. "Basilone had been reportedly commuting back and forth on his boat to Croatia, leaving his post so uncommunicatively that he was discharged from the Navy. No sooner had he been, that he disappeared without a trace."

"That last part isn't entirely true," the Director said. "People always leave something."

"Sir, I did all I could, I was there for a month and—"

"I don't fucking care," the Director snapped. "You brought me absolutely nothing of value, so now I'm sending in more people since you obviously need the help."

Axel clamped his mouth shut. I could feel sweat prick at the top of my hairline. Axel had said that it was usually some of the staff that did the mission briefings, or Owen or occasionally some level 9s, rarely Flagg.

"New information has arisen on this particular case," the Director continued. He set the manila folder he had in his hands down on the rectangular table all the agents were sitting around. Altan, or Lucky I guess, was the closest to it, and slid it towards himself across the desk and flipped it open. He studied the picture of the boat that was inside with dark brown eyes before passing it to Blitz on his right. Even though he was sitting down I could tell that the Mongolian was light on his feet from the way he didn't let his limbs sink into any position, every part of his body looked reared to pounce. He was about the same height as me, maybe even a little shorter. He had darker skin and sleek dark hair that hung over his forehead.

"That's Basilone's personal boat," the Director said, pointing at the picture, "the one that went missing when he did. La Libellula. It was found at the bottom of the Gulf of Tunis just a few hours ago."

"How close in?" Callum asked in an Irish accent, sifting through the other documents that were also in the folder being passed around. He was as tall as Owen, but not nearly as reserved. He was the only one of the new agents to smile at me and introduce himself when I came in. He had big brown eyes and I natural smile. I could already tell he was super nice.

"A fourth of a mile," the Director replied.

"So it didn't just float there from Croatia?" Lautaro asked. He had tan skin and fluffy copper-brown hair sticking up off his head, the tips of which were bleached a desert sand sort of color.

"Even from Taranto the ocean currents push water East to Turkey, through the western tip of Sicily and Tunisia... it's not physically possible that it just got there. He must have been docked in Tunis or at least close by," James mentioned. He sat at the complete opposite end of the table from Owen. The blond boy was leaning back casually in his seat, staring at his hands knitted in his lap and wasn't focusing on the documents being shown around.

"The military boat Basilone was stationed on is docking in Taranto the day after tomorrow, scheduled for 13:09," the Director continued, ignoring James' comment about disproving the idea that Basilone was in Croatia like he had been going to before he was discharged. "That's where you'll be headed. His office hasn't been cleared out since the boat has been in full operation patrolling the Adriatic since Basilone disappeared."

"Any correlation there?" Lucky asked.

"It's possible," Flagg admitted. Governments and their militaries are never quite as connected as everyone would like. See if you can get any one-on-ones with the soldiers and feel for some potential underlying mistrust, anything that could indicate Basilone's whereabouts or any alliances to him. Tunisia is on a whole separate continent. If Basilone is there and still involved with the military, ties could be made."

"What are our aliases?" Blitz asked.

"Argentinean."

"Wouldn't want to muck up America's perfectly pristine reputation then," the Englishman muttered. He flicked a stray strand of blond hair out of his sight line with a twitch of his head.

"He just doesn't want to tamper with the NATO alliance," I said, for a moment forgetting that it wasn't just me and Blitz telling Harrison to shut up in a training room.

All heads snapped to me, including the Director's. His cold dark eyes locked on to mine and I immediately regretted even breathing in his presence. I'd been with scary people. I was experimented on, poked and prodded, by downright terrifying people, but Flagg was a different kind of bone-chilling.

"Argentina isn't in NATO?" Someone asked. I didn't dare look away from the Director to see who it was.

"No."

"How fragile is the alliance just now?" A different voice piped up.

"So many countries, each with their own agendas... it varies," the Director said.

"When do we leave?" Axel asked, setting his elbows on the stained brown desk.

"Flight is 06:00 Denver to Paris. Seats are in 2's. Paris to Brindisi Airport landing time 12:00 pm standard Bravo Time Zone time."

None of the boys seemed fazed by his spew of specific directions. I on the other hand was left blinking until the folder being passed about was suddenly beneath my finger tips. Axel narrowed his eyebrows a smidge. "You good?" He mouthed.

I nodded quickly, glancing down at the printed out pages in the folder. The coordinates and name of a hotel. A map of Basilone's old house with red lines spiraling outwards to different plots on the same map. I studied it and then passed it to James on my right. The Director quickly snatched it back up before James could even glance at it.

"Questions?" He asked, walking back around so he was at the front of the room again. James' glare followed him. He was like a ghost, making no sound as he crossed the carpet and stood with his back facing a whiteboard.

There was quiet for a minute at best.

"Time limit?" Came Owen's voice, previously unheard for the entire briefing. He was still staring down at his hands in his lap.

"Two weeks, five days. Then Johnson shuts the op down." Everyone nodded in unison. Johnson was the Secretary of Defense that controls the agency's representation in government. Callum crossed his dark and toned arms and rested them on the table. Blitz leaned back in his chair with his ankles crossed. James hunched over himself and inspected the floor. Axel cracked his knuckles in his lap. Lucky ran his index finger over a sliver of a bald stripe on the side of his head. Lautaro distractedly wriggled his knee under the table.

"Hoffmanns' head of op," Flagg said finally. "Dismissed."

Everyone stood up to leave, the rubber bottoms to the chair legs bouncing over the ridges in the carpets, and practically fled to the door.

"Lawrence, Hoffmann, Strider, Bowman. You stay," Flagg commanded. My heart plummeted to my feet.

-

Flagg drummed his fingers over the table rhythmically. He had taken a seat there while the four of us agents lined up at the back of the room, hands laced behind our backs.

"I was going to send Hunter Martin on this mission but unfortunately that's fallen through." He slid his colorless eyes over to James.

"If you're expecting me to apologize then you can shove it up your ass," James said simply. I widened my eyes and it took everything I had not to break position and nudge him in the shoulder. Why did he suddenly become this heartless, angry person whenever he was around the Director or Owen? Obviously Flagg had done a horrific thing to him, inexcusable in its ferocity, but doesn't James get it that he could also do so much worse to him?

Flagg stood up. Uh oh. He slowly skirted the edge of the table to come stand in James's face. Uh oh. James held his gaze steadily, tilting his head up a few inches to look him directly in the eye. Uh oh.

Quick as lightning the Director whipped out a long baton from a strap by his thigh and thrust it into James' chest. A buzzing erupted in the room, and James collapsed to his knees. Owen dropped his eyes to the ground.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't break your other knee Strider," Flagg spat down at the redhead below him.

"Do it," James said, glaring up at him with harsh brown eyes. He still held his hands behind his back. "I dare you."

Flagg brought his up knee and bashed it against James' nose, then extended it and kicked him completely to the floor. He got down on one knee and switched his weapon back on, electrocuting him for almost three times as long. When he finally yanked it away James turned over on his side and started coughing violently.

"Get up," Flagg commanded as he got to his own feet.

James gasped for a few more seconds. Then he turned onto his stomach and scrambled to his feet from there. He got back into position as Flagg retreated to his original spot.

"Hoffmann."

Owen stepped forward.

"Bowman." I slowly took a step forward too at Flagg's command.

The Director crossed his black-cloaked arms and leaned forward on the table. "Kiss her," he directed.

Owen blinked. My jaw straight up dropped.

"Bowman hasn't been on a mission before. I'm just making sure she knows that whatever I say, she must do." Then he smiled. I controlled the panic feeling bubbling in my chest.

I couldn't see how James or Axel reacted since they were behind me. There are a million other ways to prove his point. Make me run the obstacle course until I passed out, made me jump buildings, shoot holes into the steel targets, dangle from a helicopter, all of which I would immensely prefer to this.

Flagg sighed. "Just fucking do it Hoffmann, we don't have all day," he growled, dark eyes brooding.

So he did. The blond agent stepped towards me and I squeezed my eyes shut on instinct.

I didn't know Owen, not at all. Even though James liked him at some point and I trusted the redhead's good judgement, that doesn't mean I trust very easily. And Owen was a proper man —tall, muscular, obedient, stony. And I had unearthly experiences with men like that.

Nevertheless I kept my eyes shut and stayed rigid still. I felt his fingers graze my chin, tilting it upwards and then a warm presence clamp over my lips. It didn't feel right. It didn't feel like a kiss, or at least how a kiss should feel. There was just... nothing there. I could feel his lips but there was no heartbeat to them.

"That's enough," Flagg said.

Owen pulled away I opened my eyes and immediately looked to the Director for approval. The man was grinning like a madman. "Excellent," he praised, still grinning. On a face as typically expressionless as his, it made him look demented, like someone glued a picture of a smile on his face. Owen stepped back to his place and I scurried back to mine. The Director dipped his chin. "Strider, you're next."

"Kiss her?" James stammered, raising his eyebrows.

"No," the Director chuckled. "Lawrence."

"What?" James asked, confused.

"Wh—What?" Axel said nervously.

"What?" I asked, trying to contain my laughter.

"What?" Owen growled.

"You heard me. Do it and you can go." He smiled like a cursed doll again.

Axel cringed. "What does this even prove--

"Oh don't even try and deduce his twisted kinks Axel," James rolled his eyes once more. "He's totally getting off on this."

Flagg glowered at the redhead with an intensity I didn't know was possible. James had guts.

Axel sighed a little. "But this is easy for you--

James cracked up. "Oh hell no, this ain't no picnic for me either, you're not my type."