The Agents

Chapter Two

I stepped out of the elevator and looked around. I hadn't been in here for over a year. Nobody had. Wallace and I were the only ones from the agency who knew about this room, and neither of us ever came down here.

This used to be the training bunker for AMF agents. To my left was a wall full of targets. On the adjacent wall, there were guns, knives, hand grenades, and any other weapon you could imagine. They were all displayed on the wall in an orderly fashion with a table below them filled with bullets, knife sharpeners, and so on. The wall opposite me had different rooms leading off of it. There were boys and girls dormitories and there was a recreational room with a TV, game consoles, some arcade games, and a pool table. There was a door that led to the back exit of the training room and another that lead to a storage closet full of supplies. There were a couple other doors as well. The last wall was full of pictures.

It was started seven years ago by two agents. It was full of pictures of them during training, on missions, and in recovery. Starting on the right side of the wall and heading left, there were pictures from the four years they served in the agency. It was my brother and his best friend who started the wall.

I looked at the pictures of the class of agents that my brother, Drake Carter, and his best friend, Jaxon Steele, were in. I worked my way along the wall, looking at them making stupid faces at the camera while the other agents trained in the background. I moved on to where they were pretending to have gunfights and kill each other. Then, they were preparing to jump out of a helicopter for a mission and were giving the camera a silly thumbs up.

I finally reached their fourth year. It's safe to say that that was the year where they truly came into their joking nature. There was a picture of when they started a water balloon fight as "grenade training." There was the time they used some of the sniper rifles and grenades as golf clubs and golf balls to play mini golf. There was one of them posing next to their "artwork" that they made by shooting patterns into the targets. As I went through, I found the class picture. In it there was Wallace, standing next to a very tall guy with brown hair, bushy eyebrows, and an easy smile; Drake Carter, my brother. Next to him is another tall guy with black hair and piercing blue eyes; Jaxon Steele, Drake's best friend. Next to them is a girl with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a shy smile; Taylor Star, my best friend. Finally, there was a girl with dark brown hair, deep brown eyes, and a huge smile; me.

I wiped a stray tear from my eye as I looked at the picture, remembering happier times when these were taken.

I heard the elevator open behind me and Wallace walked over. She stood in silence for a moment before I finally turned around. She wrapped me in a hug and I laid my head on her shoulder as we continued to stand there in silence. After a minute, I took a step back and she let her arms fall to her sides.

"I know you miss them. I do too. But they aren't coming back, Jaycee, and that is why things are the way they are. I know you want to do the missions like we did before, and the truth is, I wish we could. But we can't. After they left, we were losing agents. And those agents had actual training! Can you imagine how these kids would do? They wouldn't last ten seconds in that world and you can't do it alone. So, we take the missions we can do, and we do the best job possible with the sources we have available."

I sighed as I listened to her, practically know the speech by heart. I knew she was right; I just wished it was different. "I know. It just kills me not being able to make a real difference."

Her face softened and she smiled a little. "I know."

She looked at the wall behind me. I turned and looked at the pictures with her. She put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. "It's going on three years. That just doesn't seem real." I nodded as she turned and walked back to the elevator. As the doors were about to close she said, "They were just cutting into Crystal's pie when I left. They saved you a piece. And I'm sure everyone would understand if you took tomorrow off." Then the doors closed, and Wallace was gone.

I turned away from the wall of pictures and walked over to the weapons wall. I picked up a handgun and tested its weight. We didn't use real guns anymore. We had switched to dart guns that knocked people out, and even now we didn't use those

I hadn't held a real gun for two years.

Despite the long separation, it still felt familiar in my hand. I picked up a clip and loaded it into the gun. I walked over to the paper targets that were still hanging on the wall in the range. I stood there, still staring at the gun in my hands. Finally, I switched off the safety and looked up at the target. I adjusted my feet and lifted the gun.

The gun felt heavy in my hands. I wasn't used to its weight. I looked at the target and put my feet how he taught me, shoulder width apart. I raised the gun and looked down the sites. I put my finger on the trigger, and squeezed. A loud shot went off and I cringed, stepping backward from the force. The bullet hit the edge of the paper, not even close to the printed target. I looked over to see him smirking at me. He got up from his lounging position against the wall and walked over behind me. Putting his arms on either side of me, he wrapped his hands around mine on the gun. He lifted it and aimed at the target. "The trick is in your breathing." His warm breath tickled as he whispered in my ear. He took a deep breath in, held it, and let it go. When he did it again, I copied him, though my breath was a little shaky. This time when we took a breath, he pulled my finger on the trigger and shot a bullet into the center of the target. He laughed and said, "See? Isn't that fun?" I smirked and said, "I don't know. I think you are enjoying this way more than me." I turned around to see his face turn red slightly from embarrassment. He looked down to see me staring at him and he put on a fake smirk to try to hide his embarrassment. "So, are you going to let me shoot? Or are we just going to stand here and cuddle?"

I pulled the trigger and the bullet went through the middle ring. The memory threatened to consume me again, so I fired again and again and again. I kept firing until the gun ran out of bullets. Then, I dropped the gun and walked over to the middle of the room. There was a line of punching bags and a line of ropes hanging from the ceiling. I went to the nearest punching bag and started hitting. I kept hitting until my hand ached and my breath was ragged.

I gripped the swaying bag and rested my head against it. I caught my breath as a couple tears ran down my cheeks. After a couple minutes, my heart beat evened out and I stopped shaking.

I took one final breath before letting go of the bag and walking over to where I had dropped my gun earlier. I picked it up and walked back over to the rack of weapons. I stood in front of the table looking at the gun in my hands. I ran my thumb over it. Then, I reached over and picked up a new clip before loading it into the gun and switching on the safety. I slid it into the back of my pants. My jacket was too short to cover it, though, so I pulled my tank top over it.

I took one more look around the room before shutting off the lights and walking back to the elevator.