On the quality improvement of Omega agents

"This is all my responsibility, sir."

Bruce turned the pen in his hand unconsciously, and his examining eyes stayed on the female agent's face for a long time.Amanda straightened up involuntarily.

Bruce said, "It's good to realize your mistakes, Agent." His tone was mild.

Amanda blinked, "Thanks, sir."

The man sitting behind the desk looked calm, "You can leave now," he paused, and then said, "Go to the infirmary to check your body first."

The female agent turned and left the office, and the dark-haired man picked up the phone from the table.

"Do a comprehensive physical examination for Agent Amanda, focusing on the residual toxins in the blood. In addition," the man's voice was cold: "Hypnotize her, there seems to be a gap in her memory, I want to know what it is."

The female agent's memory of that night was too vague, and she only said that Randall injected her with an anesthetic in the bar and took the opportunity to leave.And Bruce didn't believe it.

It was dark outside, with a storm coming.

Bruce let himself relax a little and leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes.

The surrounding environment became blurred, the window seemed to cast the warm light of the setting sun, the air was filled with the smell of sun, sand and gunpowder smoke, the bourbon swayed in the glass with dazzling brilliance, he saw the blond-haired man standing In the foyer of his home, a lazy smile hangs on the corner of his lips.

He said, sir, are you also a lover?

Bruce took a deep breath, as if it would allow him to permanently store the smell in his chest.Then he opened his eyes.

The wind outside became stronger, and the light of the street lamps was of no help to the enveloping night.The rain was pouring down.

The setting sun, the golden dust floating in the air, the aroma of bourbon, the man's blue pupils, and the long smile on the corners of his lips.

All disappeared.

Miss it so far.

The almost soft expression of the black-haired man also disappeared from his face. He reprocessed the confidential documents on the desktop and filled his brain with confidential calculations and considerations again.

Before the night was over he got Amanda's medical results and the memory that was supposed to be buried.

Bruce looked at the word "" on the document blankly, anger rising in his brown eyes.

——Only Randall James dared to deceive him like this.

But it's a pity that Bruce won't let that wild leopard just disappear.

He actually wanted to leave him completely!He actually wanted to hide that child!His Bruce boy!

—how dare he? !

Bruce picked up the phone and pressed a few keys quickly, the man's tone was completely different from the anger in his eyes and calm: "Garcia, arrange a plane to Russia, I need to deal with something, just today."

The female adjutant who had followed him for many years obviously knew that this was not the time to question, and immediately carried out Bruce's order.

The helicopter slowly landed on the temporary apron at the airport, Bruce quickly walked down the escalator, and the private jet of the senior CIA executive was all ready.Garcia stood at the boarding gate, and she looked at Bruce Stewart, who was wearing the usual black woolen coat, walking quickly, with a serious expression.

"Sir, the Pentagon has a meeting tomorrow, and you are scheduled to attend."

Bruce glanced at her, "I know."

Garcia stopped talking. These two words had already fully expressed the attitude of the chief. She could only make up a reason to deal with those high-ranking officials who almost controlled the violent resources of the entire country.

——And the real reason why her chief was unable to attend the high-level confidential meeting was that he needed to go to Russia to find a defected agent.

——Oh, of course Garcia knew that apart from Breakpoint No. [-], the only thing that could make Bruce Stewart mobilize so many people to do it himself was the end of the human race in the World War.

Bruce glanced at the female adjutant who was in a daze, and said, "Send someone to monitor Roter, and report to me if there is any situation."

Garcia asked before Bruce boarded the plane: "Should the team responsible for 'clearing' Breakpoint Three be called back?"

Bruce said lightly: "No."

Garcia nodded.

The plane took off slowly in the darkness before dawn, making a loud roar.Bruce leaned back in the soft chair and closed his eyes.

Randall is having a pretty good time these days.

He knew that Bruce's eyeliner had been monitoring this place, probably because of the people who kidnapped him before, but the CIA's traces were much less these days, Randall thought, maybe it was because he killed the leader of the Black Sand Organization. CIA agents would want to know what caused the mess in that alley.Randall's most sensible choice at this moment is to leave this city immediately, which will be filled with a large number of senior agents of the special service at any time.

But he can't do that.

The blond man was lazily lying on a bridge basking in the sun, and the water flowed past his feet.This is a popular choice for tourists. There are people coming and going, but no one seems to notice this blue-eyed, blond man.Randall squinted his eyes. He watched the water rushing and rushing under the bright sun. The warmth all over his body made the sleepiness he was used to hit again.

Randall was wearing a smoke-gray long trench coat, the wide hem of which covered his slightly protruding belly.

The blond man yawned, his blue eyes sparkling a little.sleepy.His current physical condition, not to mention the CIA agents, even an ordinary strong man might not be able to handle it.Randall is sure that Bruce has sent his photos to the secret agencies of various countries in order to find him. Of course, he will describe him as a "must be captured alive, and a very valuable intelligence officer", and wants to leave here. Security checks are impossible.

In the Russian summer, the sky was clear, and Randall was drowsy.

When he turned his head, he saw the man standing next to him at some point, with the material of the black woolen coat bumping into his eyes.Randall straightened up slowly, and he smiled at Bruce.

"Didn't expect to see you here, Bruce."

The blond-haired man didn't look well, and the smile flickering in his eyes was real and fake.Bruce's face was pale.

"There are many things you can't think of, agent." He didn't care what Randall called him, so he said.

The corners of Randall's lips curled up, and he had to admit that he smiled beautifully, Bruce thought, especially in this sun, it was unexpectedly brilliant.

"May I think that you are here for me as an agent?"

Bruce raised his chin slightly: "Yes."

On the contrary, Randall was stunned for such a straightforward answer. He laughed and said, "It's rare that I'm not self-indulgent."

The dark-haired man looked at him intently: "I think you owe me a lot of explanations, Agent."

Randall leaned carelessly against the stone-carved bridge pillar, and calmly wrapped the windbreaker around him, and said with a smile, "Are you angry?"

Bruce raised his eyebrows, and there was a little cold smile in his tone. "I thought you wouldn't mind that, Mr. James."

Randall smiled.He looked around from the corner of his eye without any hesitation, and it seemed that everything was normal.No disguised agents approaching, no snipers lurking on high ground.

Bruce laughed, meaning nothing extra.He just said: "Let's find a place to talk."

Randall nodded dumbly.

The two found a cafe and sat down.

Under Bruce's falcon-like gaze, the waiter submissively stopped making noise. Bruce ordered a cup of black coffee, then paused, and asked Randall for a cup of white water.The blond man blinked, but said nothing.

Russian words spit out from between Bruce's extremely thin lips, and the grunting guttural voice that is usually annoying also has a beautiful ending, standard pronunciation and grammar, coupled with Bruce's magnetic, slightly deep and Flat voice, it's over, Randall thought a little desperately, he could be so nympho even listening to this talk.

Bruce was silent for a while, then suddenly said: "Your condition is not good."

Randall, who was wandering in the sky, was stunned for a moment before he realized it. He still had the same smiling expression, as if he was sure that Bruce would not be angry because of this: "Thank you for your concern, Bruce."

Bruce acquiesced to his address, and he said directly: "Come back with me."

Randall raised his eyebrows, he looked at Bruce and said nothing.

The corners of Bruce's lips curled up, and he looked at Randall lightly: "I hope you can consider this proposal."

Their coffee was served.Bruce picked up his cup and took a sip. Randall's eyes stayed on the black-haired man's slender and sharp straight for a second, then turned away.

Bruce's voice was flat: "Don't think about it, James, your method against Agent Amanda doesn't work very well for me."

Randall grinned: "Is she okay?"

Bruce put down his glass, "You can apologize to her in person when you go back."

Randall twitched the corner of his mouth, then froze.

—Bruce reached out and shook his hand.

The man still held the heat of the coffee in his palm, as if it could burn his skin.Randall withdrew his hand like an electric shock.

A crack finally appeared in Bruce's calm mask-like expression.Longing flashed sharply in the brown eyes.

When Randall reacted, the movement of pulling back his hand had been completed.He found that there was a small hole in his heart following the movement of pulling away, and he felt inexplicably lost.His skin instinctively craves the warmth and touch of that man.

He looked up at Bruce.

The smile on the black-haired man's lips still persisted, but his eyes were aggressive.

"You're mine, Randall," he said.

Randall laughed softly, he looked at the white water in his coffee cup, the temperature of the hot water in summer has not dissipated for a long time.

"I'll go back with you and let you imprison me and torture me and tell me what to obey?"

Bruce raised his eyebrows. His expression made the backs of many tough CIA agents sweat.But sitting across from him was Randall, his little leopard, who would always stare back fearlessly, with casual provocation.

Bruce laughed softly: "You belong to me, Randall, don't say you don't know."