Where Legion was built like a tank, Gunner was built like a defense player on a football team. He stood just an inch or two shorter than Rebel, but was thicker in the chest and wider in the means of shoulders. With dark skin similar to that of Legion, but chocolate colored eyes, he was a handsome looking young man.
Gunner was a weapons expert. Though he, like Rebel and I, was eighteen, he knew more about weapons than most military-bred individuals on the planet.
That was the thing about being raised in LASAR -- no agent had ever truly comprehended the word normal. Each of the original twenty-six agents was brought into the corporation from an early age; taken out of orphanages so it was ensured that there would be no possible familial relations. Each of us was literally raised a spy; we knew no other life, and before now, none of us had ever wanted to.
What amused me about Gunner joining us on our excursion was that he was brought in from an orphanage in South Africa. For all purposes, the country was the closest thing to roots he'd ever have -- home, on the other hand, was another matter entirely.
After all, if one's country of origin is to be considered home, then I should've found solace in France -- or perhaps, China, given my mixed heritage -- and Rebel ought to long for Russia, neither of which were the case. The same could be said of all LASAR agents; we had no ties to countries. No obligations to pester our consciouses.
(Though in actuality, whatever conscience any of us possessed could be considered inconsistent at best.)
It was part of what made us so efficient, having no allegiances.
Though I mean, the training we received helps with efficiency, too.
It only took me seven minutes to find Gunner in the airport gate once we were inside the building. He was easy to spot, and once I saw him, he saw me. His familiar close-mouthed smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he made his way through the crowds with ease.
Rebel and Sergeant had headed for the bathroom as soon as we landed. That left me with Legion, who of course smiled his delightful smile as soon as he caught sight of Gunner.
Gunner and Legion shook hands first before Gunner turned to me, his slight smile still in place. He was more reserved than Team Bravo, so watching their interactions had always amused me. "Strange to see you both without your counterparts," Gunner intoned in a deep baritone.
"The restrooms were calling them," Legion said with an amused snort. "C'mon, Gun," he urged, turning back toward the waiting area, "come have a seat. You can stick with madame hooligan," he waved at me, "while I go find food."
"No complaints here," Gunner chuckled, having a seat beside me.
I arched a brow at him, giving him a swift once over. He wore a slim-fitting, long-sleeved white t-shirt, with the sleeves pushed up around his forearms. His dark pants were pushed into large hiking boots. He looked modest and understated per usual. "How's Amsterdam been?"
Gunner shrugged passively at that, leaning back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other. "Quiet lately, actually. Apparently our latest enemies aren't a fan of trying to off us one by one."
"Their mistake," I shrugged, a smirk slipping into place. "Leaves us with the element of surprise."
A familiar laugh sounded in my ears then, and Rebel settled into the chair beside me right as I turned toward him. "One of her favorite things, lest anyone forget," he said, leaning around me to nod at Gunner. "Nice to finally see you again, Gunner."
Gunner laughed lowly. "And you, Rebel. I must say, if I have missed anything, it's been interacting with people my age who aren't children."
I snickered at that, leaning back in my own seat before readjusting myself and criss-crossing my legs in my seat. "Bonus of being on a team."
Sergeant returned then. He took one look at all of us, arched his fair brows, then shrugged and took a seat across from us. "Where'd he go?" he asked in clear reference to Legion. "Oh, and nice to see you, Gunner."
"To get food," Gunner answered before nodding. "Nice to see you, Sarge."
"So this is it, huh?" Sergeant asked, looking between the three of us for a moment before a slight smile lifted his lips. "We're all that's left." The words for now went unspoken; an unwanted hope.
We all remained quiet after that, and I boldly chose to break that silence. "That a problem?" I asked, quirking a brow with a daring look on my face.
Sergeant smiled somewhat at that, crossing his arms over his chest and regarding the three of us for another long moment. "I'm not gonna lie," his smile widened, "I like these odds."
YOU ARE READING
Risk and RebelAdventure
Mickey Davidson and Jason Thomas have been best friends for as long as they can remember. Growing up together in the same town, with neighboring houses, they were inseparable. When their senior year arrives, everything is going well -- until one day...