On the quality improvement of Omega agents

When Randall awoke, he saw an iron gray.It took him almost a minute to figure out what it was, until someone sat down next to him.

The blue pupils contracted slightly, he rolled his eyes, and then smiled.

"Hi, Bruce."

The dark-haired man looked at him lightly and nodded his head as if to signal.Several medical staff were by Randall's side, and the blond man found himself strapped to a simple movable stretcher.

He showed a smile: "So this is what you said, 'Go back with you?'" Randall moved his wrist mockingly, and the steel reinforced handcuffs that were leaning against the stretcher made a metal-specific collision sound. A man who looked like a doctor showed disapproval, held down Randall's flailing arm, and checked the various unnamed inspection equipment attached to it.

The blond agent actually let the medical staff conduct various examinations on him. Someone lifted his clothes, and the skin on his lower abdomen was wet and cool, as if something had been painted on it, and Randall was just lazy. He frowned triumphantly, then relaxed his body.

Bruce has been watching him.

"Can you tell me what you dreamed about?"

Randall's body stiffened for a moment, he raised his eyebrows and looked at Bruce: "I thought it wasn't important to you."

His chief showed an expression that made Randall a little puzzled: "No, you don't know."

Randall stared at Bruce for a few seconds, and he said, "I dreamed you shot me," he blinked playfully, "and then I died."

Bruce said lightly: "I won't kill you."

Randall laughed twice, and lazily shook the handcuffs that he was handcuffed to the stretcher again, "Yes, you won't." You just use this method to ensure that I won't run away.

The little smile on Bruce's face disappeared, he just took a deep look at Randall, and then said to a medical staff next to him: "Mr. Randall needs to rest."

The blond man narrowed his eyes suddenly, he didn't move, in fact he couldn't move either, he watched the needle pierce the skin of his arm, and the anesthetic was slowly injected into his blood vessels.

He fell asleep again.

Bruce sat in silence for a while, then he suddenly reached out and put down the hem of the blond man's clothes that had been lifted up for inspection, smoothing out the folds carelessly.Then get up and walk away.

Under the wing, the fog on the sea was vast.

When Randall woke up again, the handcuffs on his hands were still not removed.He twisted his sore neck and opened his eyes.

A white wall.

The blond man turned his head, and the white wall was still reflected in his eyes.He licked his lips, then smiled to himself.

—That's what you said, come back with you, Bruce.

In this room, apart from the walls, there is a big bed in the center, er, Randall's wrists are being handcuffed to the beautiful and delicate bedpost.He turned his head and could see the only part of the room that wasn't white.There's a window in the wall, but he can't see anything through that window, so it looks like his officer used a high-level interrogation room for him.

Randall stared at the invisible "window" for a few seconds, then closed his eyes.

Bruce stood behind the one-way glass, his thin lips pursed into a straight line.

The blond man's wrists were tied to the white bedpost in a weird posture, almost losing his blood color, and the reinforced handcuffs produced bruise-colored marks, which were distinct in color.

"Double guard posts, no one is allowed to enter except me."

The soldier standing beside him in a straddle position replied in a low voice: "Yes."

Bruce paused for a moment, and suddenly added: "This matter is kept confidential from all other personnel in the Operations Department, and reported to Agent Garcia."

The dark-haired man finished speaking, turned and left.

Randall fell asleep and woke up, the sky outside gradually darkened, and he stared at the one-way glass that could not see anything.Bruce knew whose academy the life in his body belonged to, and he, Randall, was not surprised by his current situation.

He did it on his own, and he knows it.

Bruce wouldn't just let him go like that, he rebelled first, then defected, and now he's pregnant with a child with the blood of a senior CIA officer, how could he simply disappear from the CIA's radar just like that.

Darkness soon fell.

Randall moved his wrist cautiously, and Bruce wisely used the new reinforced steel handcuffs, which required a lot of strength to twist off - and that's what Randall lacked the most right now.

He sighed.The feeling of his hands being firmly fixed on the bedposts above his head is something that no one likes, and it is almost impossible for him to move in this position.

The door opened with a "squeak".

Randall rolled his eyelids lazily, and he smiled at Bruce who walked in.

The dark-haired man had a serious expression. He stood by the bed, looked down at Randall, and remained silent until the agent's blue pupils showed a hint of anger, and the lazy smirk on his face slowed down. Slowly disappear.

"You should take good care of your body, after all, you still have a life."

Bruce's voice was a little hoarse, and Randall squinted. He saw the obvious dark blue shadows under Bruce's eyes. Obviously, the senior CIA executives did not get a good rest.

Randall said lightly: "Thank you for your concern."

Bruce looked down at him, the man didn't have the usual coercion, he just said calmly: "That's your child too."

Randall finally laughed again: "Oh, a good reminder." He moved his neck carefully, heard the rattling sound, and said, "Is it my hallucination or is it true——your conversation skills have declined There are many."

Bruce raised his eyebrows, "I'm not interrogating you, and I don't need to collect information, Randall."

The blond man froze for a moment because of Bruce's direct address, and immediately covered up his discomfort for a second.

Bruce curled his lips slightly, "I know you, Randall, to me, you have no secrets."

Randall stared into Bruce's eyes, the man's brown pupils filled with calm, deep water.

Yes, he has no secrets from him.

Randall blinked, pulling his thoughts away from the days long ago when newcomers to the Special Service looked up at Bruce like a baby bird.

He said, "But I don't need to obey your orders anymore, Bruce."

The black-haired man's smile didn't change, he said: "I have to point out that this is not a very wise decision, Randall," he paused for two seconds, and then changed the topic, "But I also said, you don't Same."

Randall looked at Bruce and said nothing.

The suspicion on the blond man's face was obvious, and Bruce's voice was flat and gentle, and he said, "You are different." It seemed like a certain response. "You're not just my agent, Randall."

Randall laughed softly.He glanced at Bruce: "Oh, thank you for looking at him differently." If Bruce still only regarded him as his most outstanding work, as the sharpest weapon in his hand, then as early as when he made such a transgressive move towards Bruce Well, as early as when he defected from the CIA, his chief should not have indulged him any longer.

If he was like all those shadowy agents, his situation was not captivity, but death.

Bruce bent his body slightly, the faces of the two people were close together, their pupils were facing each other, and the senior officer of the CIA smiled fiercely: "Isn't this what you want?"

Randall looked back unafraid, and he caught the near-heavy wave in those brown eyes, fleeting, but he saw it.Then the blond man closed his eyes.

Bruce kept that movement for a few seconds, his gaze swept over Randall's hands handcuffed to the head of the bed, the bruises on his wrists had already turned black and purple, and the surrounding skin was pale, which looked extremely shocking.Bruce stood up, and he left blankly.

The blond man lying on the bed closed his eyes, but a smile slowly rose from the corner of his lips.That's exactly what I want, Bruce.

But not enough, not enough.

Confinement outside.

Bruce closed the door, and the electronically controlled door lock made a "click" sound. He said to the agent standing next to him: "Release the handcuffs and pay attention to closing them."

Garcia waited at the door of the office for nearly an hour. Normally, she would not reduce her work efficiency to wait for her chief.Bruce's plane had landed five hours ago, but Garcia hadn't seen her officer, not even a shadow.

A figure in a black coat appeared from the end of the corridor, and the female adjutant hurried up to meet him: "Sir, you are back."

Bruce nodded and headed to his office.

Garcia followed closely behind Bruce. She didn't hide her concern. Her officer's complexion was not very good. There was some kind of emotion Garcia couldn't understand hidden in her paleness. The female soldier knew that something must have happened. , — given that her chief never put down the entire task force's business, top-secret information on the Middle East and Russia's nuclear weapons program disappeared for three full days for a defected agent.

She didn't see the blond agent.

"Recent information has been placed on your table, I can arrange what you need."

Bruce said as he walked, "Thank you, Captain Garcia." He didn't seem to intend to say anything to his female adjutant, and opened the door of the office.

Garcia didn't know where her courage came from. She took a step forward and said quickly: "Sir, your complexion is very bad, maybe you need to rest."

Bruce paused for a moment, and he turned to look at Garcia: "I don't need it, thank you for your suggestion." The dark-haired man said succinctly, "Focus on your own work, Garcia." He finished his office and closed the door.

Garcia stood at the door of the office for two seconds, then turned and left.There was a hint of warning in her officer's tone, and the female soldier knew that she could not cross this line again.

There is only one person who can make Bruce Stewart look like this.Either he died, or he came back.

Garcia sighed.

office.

Bruce flipped through the top-secret documents piled high on the desk with a cold expression, and the hour hand gradually pointed to three o'clock at night.He put down the document in his hand, and the surveillance images of all the key places in the special office were displayed on the computer desktop. The blond man seemed to be sleeping soundly, and rapid eye movements could be seen when the camera zoomed in.

Randall was released from the handcuffs the next day, and there was not much room for him to move about in a room less than ten square meters. There was no possibility of escape.

On the fifth day, Randall vomited all morning. The guard handcuffed him to the bedpost again while cleaning up the dirt on the floor, with both hands, and did not uncuff him until the work was done.

On the tenth day, Randall convulsed while doing the 430th third push-up in the open space of the house. He was first handcuffed to the injured leg before receiving first aid from the doctor.

No. On day 11, Randall's examination report showed that he did not have any symptoms that would cause convulsions, so he was given a sedative injection every two days-he could keep his mind clear, but his whole body was weak.

No. 15, as a protest against drug injections, Randall went on a hunger strike in exchange for a CCTV.

Bruce never showed up.