MED: Minor Extremely Dangerous (The Stone Chronicles: Book 2)

Chapter 5

MI6 Headquarters. August 4th, 2015. 0105 Hours (London Time).

Alex

Walking through HQ following that talk was more than a little nerveracking. I kept playing the scene over and over in my head, trying to make sense of it, yet it seemed like the more I thought about it, the less sense it made.

Emily Stone, a traitor? I couldn't see it.

I couldn't even comprehend it.

And even worse, I thought, it's your job to kill her.

Thanks, me. Definitely needed that.

The walk to Q Branch was shorter than I thought (a disguised blessing from the Great Lord Above), and I somehow managed to not run into any socially-awkward squints on the way, so that's a plus. Just as I was getting close to Q's designated "Shut the Bloody Hell Up About It" room, I saw 003, Eric Dean, step out quietly, a look of concern plastered on his face.

"What's up, Dean?" I asked as I approached.

He honestly looked like he'd seen the devil, "Jesus Christ, Rider! Where'd you come from?"

"M's Office of Horrors." I answered truthfully.

"What'd he give you crap about this time?"

"Easier question would be what he didn't give me crap about..." I laughed lightly, "Stone in there?"

His face grew dark, "Yeah."

I frowned, "Everything alright?"

He sighed, "She just got some, uh, bad news on a research case she's be running. Just take it easy on her, okay."

"Alright..." I decided I probably shouldn't mention that I had orders to kill her. As Dean began to walk away, I asked, "Anything I should be worried about?"

"Not if you don't ask." He said, and he walked away.

I opened the door slowly, almost afraid of what I might find inside. She was sitting at the long wooden briefing table with her head lying in the palm of her right hand. Her left arm was still wrapped in its bloody white bandage, and her hair was tied up in one of the messiest buns I'd ever seen her make, which is saying something. Q sat at a desk in front of a giant briefing screen, and his face was scrunched up in thought as he tapped wildly at his keyboard.

I took a seat and turned to look at Emily. Her eyes were shut tight in deep concentration, and her left hand was pale white from the clenching of her fist. "You alright?" I whispered almost silently.

She turned to me, her hazel eyes not even bloodshot, "I'm fine." She looked to Q, "Is M coming?"

He looked up, "He's got another briefing to run. I'm taking point with the research intel."

She nodded, "Let's go."

The briefing screen came to life. I found myself staring at a picture of... frankly of an old navy guy. He had a clean-shaved face and wore a pristine military uniform, adorned with four ribbons and a multitude of medals. Q coughed, "I don't know what Research got, but I'll give you what I can. We have three confirmed targets. First is Frank Moses: a retired analyst for the CIA. Served in the U.S. Navy for a time, reached Lieutenant, then got honorable discharge due to minor injuries and joined the CIA. Worked in Foreign Media Analysis, but has basic weapons training and limited special operatives training."

Emily nodded, "Next."

The picture changed to that of a much older man. He had a bald patch on the top of his head, and his face was contorted in a way that instantly screamed "messed up in the head". He was looking straight up, giving an obscene gesture to whatever was taking his picture. "Classy." I commented.

"Marvin Boggs." Q said, "Another CIA. We don't know much about him. He's died so many times, it's hard to keep track."

"I'm assuming you mean fake die, correct?"

Q glared at me, "No Rider. He magically poofs himself to life every time he gets killed. Yes, fake die."

"You've seen the Gifteds nowadays. You never know."

"As far as we know," Q conceded, "He's not a Gifted. However, due to our lack of intel, we recommend treating him as an extreme threat."

"He's got paranoia." Emily commented, "You can tell from his reactions to satellite imaging. He was probably one of those LSD testers."

"So..." I said, "Extreme threat."

She shrugged, "Basically."

Q nodded, "The biggest threat is this one."

The screen shifted again. She had short white hair, cut in a classic bob shape. Even with the deadly gun in her hand, simply her presence gave off an aura of sophistication and elegance.

Not to mention deadly gun, of course.

Emily looked like she was in awe, "Victoria Winslow?"

"The one and only." Q confirmed.

"Doesn't she still take contracts with us?"

"She did." Q said, "Last one she took was an assignment for the other two in 2013. Instead she ended up joining them."

"What's her skill set?" I asked.

"Everything." Emily stressed, sounding slightly jealous, "I've spent my entire career trying to live up to her call sign and I still haven't even come close."

Q shrugged, "I don't know, I think you're pretty good."

Emily snorted, "If you're comparing me to her, my record's a bloody rag doll."

"Hence why I would recommend treating her as an extreme threat."

"Obviously."

"Any interference concerns?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation away from the assassin.

"One." Q said. The picture changed to another girl. Her hair was long and silky black, her eyes nearly as dark. She was younger than the targets, a good decade or two at that. "Sarah Ross."

"Affiliation?" Emily asked.

"She's Moses's girlfriend." Q clarified.

"What's a girl like that doing with a guy like him?"

"Who knows? We do know she was involved in the 2013 plane fiasco, but she may have just been manipulated by Moses. She isn't to be considered a target, but if need be, use of deadly force is authorized."

"Understood." Emily confirmed, "Location?"

"Moses and Ross are known to be in DC on vacation. Boggs and Winslow were spotted boarding a plane there, so assuming they haven't left..."

"We're going to be hunting rouge REDs in high priority American territory."

"REDs?" I asked.

"Retired Extremely Dangerous." She explained, "Idiots in file managing came up with it. Completely pointless, if you ask me. You have to be dangerous to make it to retirement in this business."

"We'll keep track of whereabouts and let you know if plans change." Q said, "Operations wants us to get moving on this. Limited time window before the CIA gets pissy and tries to take over."

Emily nodded, "Well I personally want to get this done as soon as possible. We're gonna lose two hours with the flight. I want to be set up in the safe house by their daybreak."

I said nothing. Deep down, though, I disagreed, because I knew the minute the targets were dead, so was she.

Author's Note

Hi guys. I get to go to Annapolis today. Yay!

Has anyone's school ever done one of those lip dub things, because our school tried to do it, and a bunch of idiots ruined the camera by throwing baby powder. Baby powder.

Anyways, vote and fan and all that stuff! Let me know what you guys think of the story so far in the comments!

Love y'all!

💕 ~ Maddie