On the quality improvement of Omega agents

The Russian also realized how many rivals he had ready to move.He took a pistol out of his pocket and slapped it on the bar.The Russian is a tall and burly alpha, exuding a menacing aura all over his body at the moment, and the Desert Eagle is also particularly frightening under the light of the bar.He showed his weapons and muscles to the other alphas without hesitation.

The deterrence made the other alphas hesitate for a few seconds, and the Russian was the closest to Randall. The smell of the omega in heat kept stirring the Russians' nerves, and the desire had already shattered the shock of reason.He couldn't wait to pull this beautiful and powerful blond omega towards him, and kissed the plump red lips. Randall struggled a little, and then let out a low gasp.

The Russian's kiss turned into a frenzied bite almost instantly.The elastic, soft touch, the luscious liquid oozing slightly from the slightly parted lips, seems to be kissing a heaven.The Russian just felt his desire stand upright and swell like it was about to explode.He pressed Randall to himself even more eagerly, only wanting to take it deeper.

The Russian held Randall's shoulders tightly with both hands, and the man's slim shirt was stretched even tighter, and it was about to tear, revealing the slippery skin inside.

"Oh..." Randall groaned almost intoxicated.He feebly pushed his chest in the Russian's arms, "Let's move to another place..." The man's slender body was so soft that it turned into a pool of spring water, and he didn't feel that it was against the law to lean on the tall and strong Russian. .

His side face was pressed against the Russian's chest, his blond hair was scuffed and messy, but still covered the flesh-colored miniature communicator in his ears.There were some subtle sounds in the earphones, like the sound of some kind of paper turning, which tickled Randall at the moment.

He couldn't help panting again in a low voice, this time with a slight tremor in his voice, as if something finally rushed out irresistibly, and the lust swept over him.

The man's face was backlit, and his lips curled into a pleasant arc in the dimness, accompanied by the cold but flickering light in his eyes, which was completely weird.And no one saw this.

Filled with great joy and desire, the Russian hurriedly agreed: "Yes, yes, baby."

The two of them almost stumbled into the small bathroom in the bar. As soon as the rickety compartment door was closed, Randall was pushed against the partition, and the Russian slammed on him.

Then he heard the omega laughing in his pretty, slightly hoarse voice.

The Russian impatiently raised his head and pursued Randall's lips, but the air turned cold in an instant.

The omega's warm body, which was still exuding the sweet smell of estrus just now, suddenly turned into a hard stone, and put one hand on the Russian's shoulder.

The Russian couldn't help but looked at the spoils he hadn't had time to bite in doubt. The small compartment still had the maddening aura of an omega, but the man in front of him was completely different.

He saw a pair of blue eyes like the sea, without the confused water light, without the obsession of desire.

Just cold bloodthirsty.

This is the afterimage that stayed on the Russian retina at the last second.

Randall listened to the sound of the throat breaking in his palm with satisfaction, then supported the falling body of the Russian with one hand, and slowly brought him down.He quickly rummaged through the Russian's pockets, ran his fingers over the man's jacket, and then neatly tore open the thin layer.It is a drawing.

Randall's breathing was not disturbed at all, as if those violent hormones just now, those flirtatious temptations, and one-hit kills had nothing to do with him.The man unfolds the drawing, snaps a picture with his disposable phone, presses a few keys, and sends.

He whistled once.

In the office, Bruce flipped through a page of documents and took a sip of coffee.He tilted his neck inadvertently, then took out a tiny earphone from his right ear, and threw it into the coat pocket on the back of the chair.

The computer screen beside him suddenly lit up.

"You have an unread email." The reminder sounded, and it was a sweet female voice.Bruce looked up, and the email on the screen showed top secret.

He puts down his coffee cup.

at the same time.

Randall straightened his clothes, lazily buttoned his shirt, smoothed out the creases that had just been rubbed off, gracefully stepped over the uncooled corpse on the ground, washed his hands, and smiled at himself in the mirror , and then propped it up with one hand, and went straight out of the tiny window hole in the tavern.

The smell of omega in the room gradually dissipated, like a hallucination, leaving only a corpse and a disposable mobile phone that had been trampled to pieces.

"All the data of Breakpoint agents are under our monitoring, field agents transmit body data every three days." Bruce Stewart's voice was cold, his brown eyes swept across the two Pentagon officials sitting across the conference table .

These people are like vultures, always swarming towards them smelling the smell of blood, but they never pay attention to the rotten blood on their bodies.

The leading officer smiled dryly, and said, "How can the CIA ensure that those omegas undergoing surgery will not be driven crazy by their one-month estrus period?"

Bruce has no expression on his face, "The agents will get the care they need." His voice is also straight: "'Breakpoint' is still in the experimental stage, but Breakpoint agents have served the country for three years with outstanding achievements. "

The official seemed a little embarrassed.From the slick official tone of this CIA "important figure", he heard two points of accusations that were not deliberately hidden.It is true that Breakpoint agents have performed quite a few military intelligence missions.

The sound of high heels came, and Garcia hurried in.

"Sir." She leaned down and whispered something in Bruce's ear.

The expression on the man's face didn't change. He just stood up and said to the two visitors from the Pentagon: "You two, excuse me, I need to deal with some matters in the dispatch office."

The two Pentagon officials nodded.The one who just asked stood up: "Since this is the case, we won't stay any longer."

Bruce's hand brushed the hem of the suit casually, "Please." He gave Garcia a simple look, and then left the conference room.

The female officer signaled to the two people in the meeting room: "Two, please allow me to send you away."

The two officers exchanged glances and left behind Garcia.

The CIA headquarters does not look like a high-level intelligence agency. If you remove the dazzling and even creepy security equipment, it almost looks like an office building where white-collar workers come and go.The Pentagon official grinned in undisguised disgust, the corners of his lips twisted.

Leaving the CIA's monitoring range, two Pentagon officials got into the car, and the older one sneered, "This Stuart really doesn't like oil and salt."

Another echoed: "He proposed the breakpoint plan first, so he will naturally maintain it with all his strength. The key is that the CIA now attaches equal importance to 'breakpoint', and Stuart is now the top leader there. We..."

The older man hummed and said, "The Pentagon can't get it, and there is no saying that the CIA can eat alone."

The other person was a little surprised, but immediately responded: "Agent Breakpoint is a threat. If we can't fully grasp it, why not..." He gestured slightly.

The car starts and pulls out of the parking lot.

Garcia walked quickly through the corridor, and the door of the small room was pushed open, and the woman ordered to the agent sitting in front of the computer screen: "Call out the full-angle surveillance video of the parking lot just now, and call the lip language expert."

The agent saw who was coming, and began to execute the order without saying a word.

Bruce looked at the drawings uploaded to the big screen, frowned slightly, then turned his head and said to the staff next to him: "Contact Agent James, the drawings are fake."

Garcia came up from behind: "Sir?" She whispered: "The military guests have left. They don't want the breakpoint plan to continue."

The man just smiled coldly.

Bruce Stewart had brown eyes, and when he looked down over the somewhat hooked nose, his gaze was almost chilling.He looked at the busy CIA personnel in the hall on the first floor, the arc of his lips was fleeting.

Garcia carefully considered the wording: "Sir, Breakpoint [-] is online." She is only responsible for delivering the news she should deliver and is not qualified to comment.And apparently, her chief doesn't need her to continue the topic of "the Pentagon doesn't want to see the CIA have a group of agents that alpha can't resist".

Bruce simply nodded to show that he knew. "Take it here." He took out the micro-communicator from the pocket of the woolen coat he was wearing, and put it in his right ear.

"Good afternoon, sir." Randall's voice sounded through the communicator. The CIA's comms made his voice clear without distortion.

Bruce thrust his hands into his coat pockets, a voice he knew better than Randall James himself.Most of the time they talk like this, through the wireless communicator, separated by half a world's time difference. The CIA's senior intelligence officer replied indifferently: "Good evening, agent."

Randall laughed "hehe" in the communicator: "Sir, you miss me so soon?" The agent's voice was a little low, with a hoarse ending, perhaps because of the lack of moisture Or is it just a line that interferes because of the long distance.And Bruce heard something almost inviting in it.

He finally moved his eyebrows, and his expression was a little loose.He's an alpha, the chief intelligence officer of the CIA, the person in charge of the "Breakpoint" operation, how the hell can't he hear the eroticism in the voice of an omega.

Bruce's lips are thin, which makes him look harsh when he purses them: "Mr. James, the blueprint you just sent to headquarters is a forgery."

He heard Randall curse unceremoniously over there.

"Sorry, sir." The agent pretended to apologize for his rudeness just now.

He dropped that seductive tone and sounded lazy.And Bruce found that when Randall spit out the word "sir", it was almost delusional.

"Mr. James, I hope you don't need to remind me that the volatilization of omega pheromones will affect you." The officer's voice was as cold as iron. "You are not omnipotent."

The omega agent laughed softly, his laughter trembling through the com channel with a gust of air, and Bruce felt his ears itching.

"Sir, I am your agent. You said that your agent is omnipotent, and the breakpoint can do anything." He added with a smile: "For you, sir."

Cualquier cosa.

Bruce cut off the communication a second later.

Garcia stood behind the officer, and she decided to delete all her memories of the call and the expression on her officer's face.

Bruce took off the headset and said calmly: "After the data of his body is transmitted, it will be sent to the laboratory for analysis."

Garcia straightened her back subconsciously: "Yes."