With a Pull of a Trigger

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Charles was 24 when he got promoted to Cell Twelve, and so, Greg couldn’t really focus on the slight jealousy he had when Eena met Reini because he was just so happy to be in the same Cell as his boyfriend. Sure, they still saw each other when they were in different Cells, but still, it wasn’t the same.

Everything was alright with the world.

Reini was 27 when she got transferred to Cell Twelve. She was 27 when she finally met Greggory Van Kamp, and had proceeded to promptly be attracted to the man.

She was 27 when Greg was 26 and rejected her because he was both taken and gay.

Reini was 27, Greg was 26, and Eena was 25 when they became the legendary friendship of the agency.

All three of them were, to be honest, legends.

Eena was the legend, the darling, the star. She was the girl who lost her parents—two of CIA’s most brilliant agents—when she was thirteen and had managed to go to school and proceed to be one of the top agents without much of anyone’s help. She was the woman who worked hard for everything, instead of just giving up and letting go.

Greg was the man of the decade, the angel, the adored man. He was the boy who had worked—and worked hard—to get to where he was for years. He was the boy who suffered years of abuse and had been adopted by one of the agency’s finest. He was the boy whoe chose to follow in the footsteps of the mother he truly loved.

Reini was the mind, the brains, the magnifico. She was the woman who skipped two years in school and had graduated law school at the top of her class at age 23. She was the girl who managed to snag one of the most important cases of all time and win it, eventually leading to her association with the agency. She was the woman who, within two years of being in the agency, became promoted to junior agent status and to Cell Twelve at the same time. She was a legend in her own merit.

Of course, everyone in Cell Twelve were legends, until they weren’t.

But really, this wasn’t just Greg’s story to tell. It was everyone’s.

It was the golden age, or so they said, of the Cell Twelve. Catherine Aspen had just been promoted to being the Superior of Cell Twelve and being the Director of the CIA, and she had been choosing between CIA legends Amrie Chase and Aldrin Arlington to pick as her right-hand man.

In Cell Twelve, agents were known for their own merit.

Greg was 28 when all quickly went to hell.

Denise was dead, and Aldrin left the agency.

Amrie was the newly-stated senior agent in charge of Cell Twelve.

Helox Five was finally defeated.

And Greg and Charles broke up.

“Who’s this Star you apparently needed help from?” asked Greg, nudging Charles’ shoulder with his own while they walked along the hallway.

Charles shook his head, looked at Greg, and shook his head again, his mouth quirked at the sides. “Nothing,” he said.

Greg chuckled to himself. “Don’t let her hear you say that.”

Charles laughed. “Of course not.”

“You never told me those people in Tech have crushes on you,” said Greg, wistful.

“Jealous?” asked Charles, his eyebrow raised.

Greg laughed. “Hardly.”

Charles shook his head, fond. “I seemed to get the all the bisexuals on my team.”