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THE surveillance and technical operations room was buzzing, in Christian Prime's absence, Gavin Herrera took advantage and began searching for Cole. Now known to him as Ercole Reeves, but like any deserter, Gavin suspected he hadn't used that name in a long time. Christian wanted to chop off the head of the clan, but Gavin was far too methodical for that. Remember this: Gavin is a man with a purpose, the day he has no purpose is the day he's rotting on the ground, dead and decaying.
"Got anything for me?"
Gavin crossed his arms over his chest, muscles tensing underneath his black leather jacket. "Oh, hi." A woman, early in her twenties, with long curly brown hair and sun-kissed skin, smiled at him. "I was just doing a facial analysis, but so far there's been no sighting of Cole, his companion, or the van."
"Keep looking," Gavin instructed her, he spun around, ready to leave.
Zazie Knightly, mostly known as 'Beatles', turned on her chair and called out for the soldier boy. "I don't think that's doing much."
"What?" Gavin stopped, half-turning to face her.
Beatles sighed, cracking her knuckles nervously. "Yes, facial recognition takes time, but we live in a digital era. It literally takes five seconds to run a proper analysis. Five. Seconds." She emphasized. "I've been hunting their asses- sorry, buttocks- since yesterday. So that brings me to the conclusion that-"
"-They are not in New York." Gavin finished for her, she nodded. Gavin breathed in and out, sorting his thoughts and thinking about his next step. "What do you suggest then? I doubt Christian has a satellite tracker."
Beatles chuckled funnily at him and said in a sassy tone. "Please, what doesn't Christian Prime own?" Gavin raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised. "I'll try radar stations, maybe we'll get lucky this time."
"If something pops up, you come straight to me," Gavin instructed her, Beatles looked at him for a moment before nodding. "If Christian shows up, tell him I went scouting with Deckard."
He started to leave. "And if he asks where?"
The door closed behind him, leaving Beatles without an answer. The curly hair girl huffed and rolled her eyes, she put on her headset and began tracking Cole's location using the picture Christian had given her yesterday.
"THE Washington Monument is 555 feet, five and one-eighth inches tall." The tourist guide said in the most boring tone, Teagan blinked bored and didn't even bother to hide her lack of enjoyment. "Notice how the marble and granite are cut around the stone."
