On the quality improvement of Omega agents

In the dilapidated small hotel in District I, Randall leaned against the window and listened to the sirens outside. A large group of District I military police ran towards the park in the middle of the street.Most of the blond man's body was hidden behind the dusty and shabby curtains. Looking at the bustling scene on the street below, he smiled.

Randall lowered the curtains that had been raised a little, walked back to the edge of the bed and sat down, the mattress spring letting out a groan of overwhelm.He bought what he needed with the few bills he had just picked up from the cash register at the hardware store.The blond man lifted up his clothes, the wound on his abdomen was still rolled out ferociously, and the flesh around the edge was gray and white.Randall poked his wound lightly with his finger, then grinned.

"Maybe next time I'm in heat, I should find someone to tie me up first," the blond man muttered in a low voice, "It's not always a good thing that my force value is too high."

As he said this, he laughed softly, pouring the bottle of spirits thrown on the bed onto his stomach.

The blond agent gasped, listening to the "hissing" sound between his teeth, the smile on his face was a little distorted.

The vodka bought in the small town in District I is not of high purity. I don't know if it is directly blended with alcohol.The transparent wine flowed down the man's standard-shaped abdominal muscles, outlining the distinct lines of the muscles.Randall bit his tattered shirt in his mouth, and with his free hand, he pulled a brand new cotton T-shirt thrown aside—the medical gauze he wanted to buy in this place was simply fantasy, not to mention that he didn't Don't want to arouse suspicion.

"It's stabbed—" the man unceremoniously tore the T-shirt into strips of suitable shape, and then wrapped up the wound on his abdomen.He has completed the mission, and the next difficulty is how to get out of this ghost place smoothly—although Randall knows that this mission cannot be "smooth".

He obeys orders, but is never a fool.

The blond agent bandaged the wound he made, and he played with a standard bow on the end of the cotton bandage that went around his entire abdomen, and then exhaled softly.He put down his shirt to cover up the funny bow, took a sip from the bottle at hand.The taste of alcohol hit the taste buds harshly, and the liquid burned all the way down the esophagus into the stomach pouch, and Randall cursed casually.

He turned on the communicator in his ear, and there was silence.

The blond agent licked his lips, and he said, "You broke your promise, sir."

Quiet.

"If I remember correctly, sir, you said that I can accompany you on the mission of Area I."

Quiet.

"Don't you even want to hear me say goodbye?"

Quiet.

The channel was damn quiet, and Randall wasn't even sure if someone was monitoring his communications over there.The blond agent's voice was subtle, with a little imperceptible tremor.His tone was very soft, not like a ferocious beast that has never been tamed.

"Is it because you are scared and reacted to your agent?" Randall paused, and said, "An alpha's impulse to win an omega, sir, you shouldn't be afraid of this."

Randall raised his voice a little: "Is it because you are attracted to me, sir?"

He asked with no expression on his face, but there was a cold smile deep in his blue eyes.

He knew the man was listening, and Randall didn't know where his conviction was coming from, he just knew.

——Every mission, every boring or goddamn addictive action, every time he deliberately threw himself into a momentary situation of life and death, his chief listened on the other end of that micro-communicator, his complaints, Laughing, swearing and rambling.There are times when Bruce doesn't talk at all, but Randall knows he's listening.

He just knows.

There is still a dead silence in the channel.The blond agent smiled. He took out the communicator from his ear, picked up the wine bottle next to him, and slammed it out.

"Crackling——" the glass bottle was thrown against the wall, the agent didn't know how much force was used, and the shattering sound was almost as loud as an explosion.

Almost at the same time, Randall crushed the gadget in his hand expressionlessly.

A loud cracking sound came from the communicator, followed by a piercing screech. Bruce stopped the pen in his hand, and the communicator in his ear had completely silenced.

The black-haired man paused for a moment, the sharp sound just now seemed to be still ringing in his cochlea, and the pen stopped above the document dripped a small ink dot.

Kent was sitting on the sofa in the office. He watched Bruce take off the communicator in his right ear and threw it aside with a cold expression. He said, "Why, has your agent started to disobey orders?"

Bruce looked up at the deputy director of the CIA: "He just cut off the connection."

Kent shrugged his shoulders, "Oh, he's pissed off, breakpoint number three." He showed an inexplicable smile: "I can hear his anger while sitting here. Are your ears okay?"

"Good."

Kent laughed, and said, "Doesn't your little agent know that his chief can only hear in one ear? It's really inconsiderate." The deputy director of the CIA looked like an idle gossip at this time, and he observed Bruce's Response, "Did you never even talk to him? Would Breakpoint Three be a little touched to know that his officer's full hearing was taken up by his nonsense?"

Bruce puts down his pen, and he gives Kent a warning look. "If you have time, you should take care of the A area instead of mocking my hearing here, Kent."

The deputy director spread his hands, he knew that the senior officer of the special task force didn't mind his wording about his physical disability: "Bruce, you showed me that even with only one functional ear, you can do this. , maybe without your little agent accompanying you, you can also deal with the outflow of nuclear bombs from Area I?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "I'll go right away."

Ken nodded, and stood up slowly: "It would be great if I had your words." He smiled at Bruce, "It will be a success."

The dark-haired man watched the tall Kent disappear from the office door with cold eyes, and picked up the phone on the table.

"Garcia, arrange the plane, I will go to Area I tonight."

Bruce put down the phone, glanced at the tiny communicator on the table, and drank the coffee in his cup.

Zone I.

It was getting dark, and Randall yawned boredly.He opened the watch cover, threw a few small white pills into his mouth, then put on the black windbreaker he got from the hardware store, and left this unremarkable hotel in a staggering manner.

The dilapidated door knocked tremblingly behind him.

at the same time.

At the dinner party, the crystal chandeliers were full of brilliance, and the marble floor was so shiny that people's shadows could be clearly reflected.Kent held a glass of champagne and stood with a man who clearly had some Middle Eastern looks.

"Mr. Ambassador, is there anything you don't like about this reception?"

The middle-eastern man looked unhappy, and he answered the CIA deputy director bluntly: "Our intelligence chief was assassinated this morning." He seemed to have decided that this matter had nothing to do with the CIA. open relationship.

"You know that at this juncture, the person in charge of intelligence doesn't change at will. Why do you want to send someone to assassinate him?! I have already promised to arrange your people for the next nomination! Now all eyes in the country are on me!" The Middle Easterner was a little emotional. He and Kent walked behind a huge carved pillar and spoke fiercely.

— That’s because we don’t want to wait until then.Kent rolled his eyes secretly in his heart - this is really an idiot.

The deputy director of the CIA said with a serious face, "Please condolences." He said slowly, "But please believe me, the CIA has no intention of destroying our cooperation, not at all."

The Middle Eastern raised his eyebrows and looked at him: "I want to see sincerity."

Kent smiled and said: "We have obtained information about the assassination this morning. It has to be said that this is a rather despicable act, and this killer has obviously been trained." He put his hand on the assassin from Area I On the ambassador's shoulder, he said, "I can give you his information."

The Middle Eastern laughed. ——He knew that the CIA was a group of cunning and cunning masters, and he also knew that the so-called "killer" might be a CIA agent, but if Kent was willing to sell him this favor, it would be great.Mr. Ambassador doesn't care what identity the murderer is arrested in, he just needs to have an explanation to the country.

Two goblets filled with champagne collided, and the two people who had just decided the life and death of an agent were toasting.

"Pleasant to work with."

CIA Special Operations Deployment.The huge factory buildings cast black shadows on the ground, and a transport plane roared loudly on the tarmac on the roof.

"Good evening, sir." Garcia maintained a straddle posture and watched Bruce walking towards the plane, his hair and the windbreaker on his body were messed up by the strong airflow brought by the propeller. CIA's senior executives seldom travel like this. Most of Bruce's time is spent on intelligence analysis and joint meetings of senior officials. He even seldom works in the special task force.

But Garcia knew that her chief was good at politics, but it didn't mean that he had taken off his armor.This man is always ready to enter the battlefield.The legend that the CIA can't bring up has never been used to fighting, and is ready to get sand on his boots again.

Bruce nodded briefly to the female soldier. He glanced at the entire commando of the Marine Corps standing aside, and nodded to two people casually, "You two follow me, and the rest, disband."

Garcia took a step, she opened her mouth, and swallowed the words of persuasion under Bruce's gaze.

The sound of the helicopter's oars rumbled into his ears. Bruce bent over and got into the cabin, and two special forces followed him into the helicopter.Garcia watched the plane gradually fly away from her sight, and the flashing pilot lights disappeared into the starry lights of the distant city.

District I had just lifted the curfew policy, and there were not many people on the streets in the evening. Randall walked into a dirty alley, and then turned a corner.He stopped in front of a small shop marked Old-fashioned Clock Repair.

The blond agent pushed the door open, "Old Al."

The man standing behind the counter looked at Randall for a few seconds with the dim light, and then said, "Ah, it's you, James."

Randall walked towards the counter, "Surprised to see me?" He moved closer and glanced at a double-barreled shotgun behind the counter. It was obvious that the person in Area I still had his hands on the on the trigger.

People in District I are about 50 years old, and he forced a smile: "Yeah." He glanced at the blond man and said, "You disappeared for more than half a year, and you suddenly came to see me tonight, what's the matter?"

Randall smiled, and said, "I have something I want you to see."

The person in District I called Al looked a little surprised: "Bring it."

Randall took out a small velvet cloth bag from his pocket and threw it to Al. "Help me see how much this is worth."

Al caught the small bag, and the weight of his hand made him look at Randall in surprise. The person in Area I didn't speak, he untied the tie on the top and poured out some of the contents.

"O Allah!"

Those shiny "little stones" rolled out, almost covering his palm.

The author has something to say: the next chapter is a sweet little episode~~~