On the quality improvement of Omega agents

Randall followed Bruce into the other's office step by step, and then graciously closed the office door under the gaze of the black-haired man, with a fake but beautiful smile on his face.

Bruce narrowed his eyes slightly: "Is there anything else, Mr. James?" He took off the overcoat and sat down around the table, with the clothes thrown on the back of the chair.

Randall smiled, and he swayed over to Bruce and sat down on the edge of the huge desk. "Sir, you are so ruthless, you don't even allow me to express my thoughts?"

Bruce looked indifferently at the blond agent sitting on his table. The man was wearing an ordinary black T-shirt, but the cotton fabric perfectly outlined the agent's beautiful lines.The broad shoulders stretched out the black clothes, which were slightly taut to the chest, showing well-developed muscles, and the round neck was pulled down slightly, as if to make it more comfortable to wear - of course, it is not ruled out that some kind of Simple and effective seduction method, the exposed skin is too fair for a male agent, and those tiny blue blood vessels can be seen at the collarbone and neck fossa, which makes people imagine the temperature and sound of blood rushing inside.

Randall watched Bruce's expression, and after a few seconds there was a flicker of frustration in his blue eyes. ——His chief didn't seem to have any reaction to the omega known as "Humanoid Spring Yao".Of course, Randall didn't use his pheromones. After all, that's not fair, and he didn't want to see "a major accident in a secret CIA agency, two men fought and caused massive damage" on CNN's news tomorrow.Maybe Bruce can't beat him, but he Randall fucking James is a goddamn omega, and he doesn't want his seductive behavior to get out of proportion and turn into him limp and wet all over, begging with no dignity whatsoever It's up to his officer to stuff a hard, hot old //two or whatever into the greedy hole in the back.

Although imagining a shot with a powerful alpha like Bruce Stewart is enough to make his blood flow faster, Randall doesn't want to try this yet.

He likes to take risks, but in this case, he has to take it step by step.

Bruce said: "If there is nothing else, I suggest you go back to your job."

Randall gave him a dull look: "Sir, you know I shouldn't be there." He didn't follow Bruce in just to see how his officer reacted to his new tight T-shirt.He didn't want to stay in the special task force, no one would enjoy doing nothing for too long, and the definition of "long" for Randall was more than three hours of wandering and watching rookies punching sandbags.

He's not one of those guys who trains people up and relentlessly says to rookies "you have to be a team player in the field" or "don't put your communicator in your pocket" crap.

He didn't even like the "shabby" training facility -- well, that's just Randall's personal opinion, of course, not a slur on CIA funding.

Randall needs a battlefield.

"I want to go back to the field, sir," Randall said, his blue eyes fixed on Bruce.The Special Service is a boring place, everything here is boring to him, and the only thing Randall wants is simply not available right now.He needs the smell of gunpowder and blood, and some desperate running and long trek. Only by throwing himself to the limit can the blond man hear the sound of his heart beating clearly.The pain or numbness of the body will go away when the adrenaline flows through the body, ignore it, and it is not worth mentioning.

That's the real beauty. ——Oh, maybe it's not as good as the intense sexual love with Bruce in the imagination, but it's already the most satisfying Randall so far.

The black-haired man raised his eyebrows, and said, "Your task now is to train new recruits. The Special Service needs this."

Randall muttered, "There are a lot of people in the Special Service who can do this." He shrugged. "You should let me out, Bruce. I can do more things."

Bruce Stewart finally showed a dangerous expression: "Letting you out is the last thing I would do, Agent." His voice was as cold as ice and as hard as iron: "Your self-destructive tendencies are no longer suitable for field operations. Task."

"It seems that the task you assigned to me is really for this long period of confinement." Randall jumped off the table.He still stared at Bruce, but the playful smile on his face faded a little. "why would you say so?"

Bruce seemed to be bored with his question, he said: "You have chosen to put yourself into dangerous and uncontrollable situations more than once, when you knew there was a better and safer way." He looked lightly The blond agent, the most powerful weapon and tool in this secret agency, is entitled to be called the ace omega, but beneath his overly beautiful and powerful surface is a self-destructive madness.He should know that watching him emerge from the smoke of the drone bombing on the screen, laughing like a madman because of the adrenaline rush, will not bring joy and satisfaction, even if he completes the task.

"Well, maybe I'm a little... adrenaline addicted?" Randall said, his lips curled casually into a grin that was alluring enough. "—as if I haven't had enough addictions," he added, self-deprecatingly.

Bruce glanced coldly at the expression on the blond man's face, "You pose a threat to the mission and yourself, Agent. The Special Service needs to make sure that this danger has been resolved." Every task of the Special Service is different. A little bit of deviation is allowed, and Mr. James himself belongs to the state property, and his importance to the special service does not allow his life to be easily "lossed". Even he himself does not have this right.

Randall tilted his head, his teeth were showing in a smile, he looked extraordinarily sincere, and also extraordinarily... creepy. "How do I 'solve' my own threat to myself?" He suddenly approached Bruce: "Are you going to erase my self-awareness, sir?"

Bruce's words were light and weightless, but enough for the blond agent to hear clearly."If I have to, I will," he said.

The brown eyes looked directly at the blue ones.

Randall was silent for two seconds, then put a smile on his face again: "Then, I'll go first." He turned and left.

Garcia came in from the door, and she put a stack of document bags printed with "Top Secret" on Bruce's desk, and noticed that the officer just stared at the desk blankly for [-] seconds.For Bruce Stewart, this was already an unprecedented gaffe.

"Sir?" Garcia hesitated for a moment before asking, "Do you have any other orders?"

Bruce raised his eyes.His brown pupils looked like some kind of beautiful and clean ore, hard and transparent, but impossible to see through. "Relax the monitoring of Mr. James." His leopard has been put in a cage, and the collar around his neck should be loosened. The beast should not be pushed too tightly, not to mention that it is a fierce enough one. An untamed beast, he's probably crazy enough not to mind dying with this cage, and even with the man who built it for him.

Garcia was a little surprised. Just as she was about to respond, she heard her chief go on to say, "Remove all permissions of Agent Breakpoint No. [-], activate the in-body locator, and prohibit him from leaving the Special Task Force."

The female soldier finally couldn't hide her shock: "——sir?" If she heard correctly, the officer meant that Breakpoint No. [-] had been determined to be placed under house arrest, and for an agent, it was almost equivalent to a death sentence.

Bruce glanced at Garcia lightly.

The female soldier realized her gaffe and stopped talking.Bruce suddenly spoke again, and he said, "Mr. James never learns to do well what he should do." The top officer of the special service suddenly bent his lips, "He should know that he doesn't call himself according to the rules. The sir will be punished. What do you think, Captain?"

Garcia couldn't help but stiffen for a moment, and she tried to tense herself so as not to tremble because of Bruce's tone just now.She had been outside the room when the argument—or, to put it mildly, the somewhat eerie conversation between the officer and Breakpoint Three—had just occurred.She vaguely heard Breakpoint Three calling the officer's name directly.

A cold smile appeared on the lips of the man who was called "Bruce" by the blond man.