On the quality improvement of Omega agents

Randall yawned and opened his eyes.The soreness in the shoulder and neck made his movements a little stiff, and the man slowly turned over on his stomach. The agent was used to the hard inner wall of the ventilation duct, but the dust inside made his nose itchy.He slowly closed his eyes and looked down from the gaps separated one by one.

Bruce's office.

The blond agent narrowed his eyes, his matted hair brushing against the metal pipe.

His chief was working, and there were stacks of documents on the desk. Randall didn't bother to think about how many secrets there were that he would lose his head if he found out.He could see Bruce's black hair, and the profile of the man.Randall's expression was subtle, like admiration, and like inquiry, he watched every movement of Bruce. In the office, the senior officials of CIA would still button up their shirt collars neatly, roll up their white sleeves a little, revealing their lean and powerful forearms. He wrote something on those documents with a pen, and sometimes stopped to think, sideways The lines of the face are hard and smooth.

Randall looked at it for a while, and he thought that when he said the invitation that night, he was more or less sincere.

He likes Bruce Stewart.

This is not a difficult proposition, the blond agent blinked his eyes, he felt like laughing a little, and thought that Bruce and him were only separated by a "wall", so he held back.Randall took another look, the ring on the black-haired man's finger was softly shining.His chief always carried this when he was not on a mission, and Randall had seen it countless times.The agent stared at it for two seconds, he thought, this time I have to follow my curiosity.

The blond agent smiled silently, his lips curled into a beautiful shape in the darkness, and there was a flash of emotion in his blue eyes.

What Randall wants, he will use all means to achieve it. He has always been such a person, whether it is becoming a strong man, ignoring this huge secret service agency to satisfy his self-destructive tendencies, or finding a match for himself. the alpha.

Even if that person is Bruce Stewart.

The agent deftly left the air duct he had occupied for so long.

Archives.

Garcia looked at the blonde agent who appeared in front of her for the second time in one day with a toothache. "Agent, you should be in the infirmary."

Randall shrugged rascally: "Dear Garcia, when did you see me appear where I 'should' be?"

The female captain was used to seeing Randall's recklessness, so she just said blankly: "This is for the sake of your personal health."

Randall grinned, and he said, "Don't you know that I have a few days to live, Captain?"

There was a trace of shock in Garcia's eyes, her face was still cold, she said: "Don't curse yourself." The female soldier looked at Randall probingly, and the blonde agent seemed to be in good spirits, "What are you doing in the archives room? "

"I'm just here to try my luck." Randall said, "Are all the personnel materials of the special task force here, everyone's?" He specially emphasized.

Garcia stared at him: "No." The female captain's voice was cold, "No matter what you came here to do, I suggest not to do it, agent."

The blond agent smiled and said, "Thank you for your concern." He winked his eyes playfully, "I know that the Special Service's tolerance for me is no longer high."

Garcia was silent for a while, and said: "Here are only the information of the junior employees of the special agency, senior secret agents and officials are not included, and the person you are looking for is also the same."

Randall laughed "haha", he simply asked: "Garcia, you already know what I want to know, why don't you just tell me." The blonde agent said casually: "Bruce used to have a family. Bar."

Garcia froze for a moment, and the female soldier's face was ugly: "I didn't know you were still interested in the personal privacy of the chief."

Randall scratched his blond hair with an innocent expression: "I'm just curious."

Garcia's voice was cold, "Exuberant curiosity is not a good thing, you are an agent, you should know this." Her tone was flat: "I am far inferior to you by the officer's side, Breakpoint No. [-]."

The blond man smiled, "That's true." He seemed to be in a good mood because of this sentence, but there was no smile in his eyes, and the conversation changed immediately: "I've been with him for a few years, do you think I understand him? "

Garcia frowned, and she said: "Sir, you are very good." Her words became a little sharp: "But your curiosity has surpassed the field of 'understanding'."

Randall raised an eyebrow.

"Because he made me what I am now."

All I have is my own life and this intersection with Bruce Stewart.

Garcia's earphones rang.She listened in silence for a while, and glanced at the monitor in the corner of the roof of the archive room inadvertently.

"Yes, I understand." The female soldier said.

Randall's eyes wandered lazily over Garcia's face, but he didn't speak.

Garcia looked the agent straight in the eye, "Do it yourself, Mr. James."

She would never refer to Randall by name.

The blond agent let the female soldier bypass him and left the file room, looked up at the still flickering monitor, and then laughed softly.

A day later, Bruce received the leave application from Breakpoint [-], and the black-haired man quickly signed the form and put it into the pile of processed documents.

Randall couldn't remember the last time he was in the house.The blond agent stepped up the steps, and the trash can that hadn't been cleaned for a long time gave off an unpleasant smell.He pulled a key from his body and opened the door.

The room still looked dusty and messy. Randall stepped over the wine bottle that was broken at some point on the ground. He went around behind the bar and tumbling for a while, then took out two bottles of vodka that hadn't been opened, and thought about it. , and replaced it with bourbon.The agent's house can be regarded as a barren house, but the cooling effect of the wine cabinet has always been good, and the inventory is as large as a warehouse.

Randall walked to the edge of the sofa with his wine dangling, and was slightly taken aback when he saw the small white pills scattered on the ground.Oh, he remembered.

The last time he was back here, Bruce was standing in front of the couch and looking at himself because he was sleepy with a headache.The blond agent smiled, imagining the anger and helplessness in Bruce's brown eyes at that time, stepping on those white pills and throwing himself on the sofa, choking on the dust and sneezing.

The blond agent fumbled the remote from under his ass and turned on the TV, taking a contented gulp of bourbon as he listened to the blaring sound of the TV filling the empty room.

When twilight fell, Randall finally stretched himself and stood up from the sofa. He opened the curtains and looked out. The jeep parked at the corner of the street was still there. "It's hard work." The blond man muttered.

He doesn't really enjoy the life of such an ordinary person, nestling on the sofa in his own house, watching the professional baseball league, drinking bourbon and grabbing the cold pizza ordered at noon, oh, by the way, the one who delivered the pizza The gun in the young man's waist is not fastened.

The sun had already set, and the sky showed an iron gray color, only a beautiful golden red was left on the far horizon. Randall squinted his eyes and admired it for a while. The black jeep hadn't moved a bit, and the man walked slowly lowered the curtains.

Someone cheered loudly on the TV, the blond agent glanced lazily, before the pitcher's wonderful performance was seen, a news scene was suddenly inserted.Randall glanced at the subtitles below, froze for a moment, and stopped his movements.

"The high-level confidential personnel of CIA died on the spot earlier than the car accident, and senior officials of relevant agencies attended the scene to deal with it." Randall narrowed his eyes.

Bruce's black coat flashes across the corner of the frame.

The blond agent stood in the living room and read the news in its entirety, then walked outside quickly. He opened the mailbox standing alone in the alley, pulled out the contents and brought them into the house.The windows of the jeep on the corner rolled down, and the light of the binoculars flashed.

Throwing away those ridiculous advertisements and mailing lists, Randall flipped through the newspapers of the past few days.

"Cia's intelligence chief in the Middle East, Clarke, was dismissed, and the relevant parties have not disclosed the reason"

"Tragedy: A man with a severe peanut allergy died after eating peanut candy by mistake - he worked for the CIA before his death"

"CIA Deputy Director Permanently Suspended With Heart Problem, Secret Service Official Says Kent Will 'Spend The Rest Of His Life' In A Nursing Home"

The blond agent read the news scattered across several newspapers one by one, and he curled his lips.Sure enough, Bruce was not idle. That man's iron fist was always terrifying. Cia has already shuffled the cards, and his chief's methods probably frightened many people.That man is like a boa constrictor, with murderous intent hidden in his quietness, you don't want to provoke him.

Randall's eyes stayed on the name "Kent" for a few seconds, and he sneered.Presumably this is the person who betrayed Bruce, the high-level executives of CIA, and a few other people have such courage. ——It seems that Kent and Bruce entered cia at the same time.The blond agent seemed to think of something, paused, and then stood up.

Randall walked through the mess on the ground. He rudely opened the drawer of the side table and rummaged through to find a bunch of keys.

street corner.

"Sir, Breakpoint No. [-] has not changed at the moment."

"Continue to monitor."

A nursing home on the edge of downtown Langley.

It was completely dark and the moon could be seen tonight.An unremarkable gray car was parked next to the bushes a few hundred meters away from the nursing home, and Randall closed the door.

It really is a good place to "spend your old age in peace", the conditions are good, but I'm afraid there is no way to contact the outside world.Randall clung to the cold iron grille door behind the nursing home, jumped in, dexterously rolled in, and landed silently.

Kent lies in his "care" room.He put down the newspaper in his hand and smiled wryly.This time, he still lost the bet.The day Bruce came back from District I, he knew that everything was over.There was a cold light in the man's eyes - but what he left behind was enough for the man to regret forcing him to this point.

Someone knocked on the door of the room, and then opened the door and entered.

Kent glanced at the man in a white coat, and didn't pay attention: "It's so late, what else can I do, doctor?"

"The spirit of the deputy chief seems to be pretty good."

In a soft voice, with a hint of obvious sarcasm, Kent jerked his head up.

A blond-haired, blue-eyed man was standing beside his bed, with his hands leisurely in the doctor's white coat, and a wide smile on his face.