Unit 216

Chapter 2: "The Enemy"

Brandon abruptly ducked behind a large rock, and Mr. Rowl followed suit. Brandon had a questioning expression and opened his mouth to speak, certainly not to remark on their ridiculous disguises.

"Sir, I—"

Alexander clasped Brandon's mouth shut tight, frantically darting his eyes up, down, and all around. He pointed to the sky, implying that he heard a sound.

Maybe a jet? Ascendants? Brandon stared at him dumbfounded, freed his lips, and spat repeatedly.

Alexander frowned, as if about to say, "Did my hands taste that bad?" and advanced through the path of rocks, now crouching. The sound not reiterating its presence, they sprinted faster than before. Almost out of time—just an hour and a half to retrieve the relic and run.

Alas, they squeezed through two large boulders and there the temple stood. . . worn out, quite short, and overall underwhelming. Brandon may have shown a little disappointment. The duo hopped onto the crooked and cracked brick platform.

The relic, resting on a tilted cylinder podium, was the literal center of attraction. Brandon whipped out his stun gun and paced the rectangular rim of the elevated platform. Alexander flashed him a thumbs-up, remembering how this was the kid's practical exam too.

Brandon joined his proctor, his gun pointing down. Don't want to shoot my future, Brandon thought.

There was no switcheroo trick involved with taking the object. The temple looked horrible enough to even defend itself from a thunderstorm. It wouldn't be shocking if storms had knocked down the temple from the beginning.

Alexander gently lifted the relic. Surely a boulder wasn't going to chase them. Alexander bounced the orb between his palms, feeling the dust it collected.

"All clear," said Alexander.

"All clear," affirmed Brandon and stuffed the weapon back in its holster.

They both smiled in relief, all a little easier than anticipated, not like an exam would be as life-threatening as an actual mission.

Brandon had made certain to speak of his hope to pass as an Interceptor, the combatant type of agent. Any subdivision: Scout, Extractor, or even the glorified Infiltrator, should satisfy his soul.

Mr. Rowl may have read his thoughts. "You know, you seem like a Squirrel or a scientist. Are you not telling me something?"

The kid hesitated but resisted lying. He couldn't fool a former Commodore.

"Working out isn't a favorite hobby, is it, Brandon?"

Brandon shook his head. "No, Sir. I thought that if I established a desire for Interception, you might not toss me aside as easily as if I had two other options."

The older man chuckled. "Classic trick... in my day. Now cadets are too focused on one division. You, however, I believe have many talents. Engineering and science offers just as much "fame". Look where Interception got me!"

"But Sir, you're a legend!"

The sound of wind. No, something else....

The bushes were trembling; loud footsteps were hitting the ground fast. Four men emerged from all sides and were not stopping. One leaped and lunged at Mr. Rowl, to his surprise. He fell back and was pinned under the heavy intruder.

Brandon was stupid enough to keep watching as two more dealt with the bigger threat. But he was also a target.

The fourth man locked his neck from behind. Brandon was forced to buckle, but at least thrust his weight down on the man. The black-clad, back-masked enemy restrained the boy's weak legs, rendering him useless and about to die.