"With all due respect sir, this is a suicide mission." He protested, his fist crumpling the folder that contained the information regarding their latest mission. If you asked him right now, he would tell you that the old man he respected very much, was out of his mind and deserved to be brought to a hospital.
A professional should really examine him.
"Do you expect the two of us – and no, we won't risk the men we all know would just die in this circus of a mission – to get into the enemy's headquarters and hack into their systems undetected?" he asked, continuing his tirade. "I mean, we are extraordinarily effed up human beings but really, sir? The other team also has their fair share of funky individuals. This is not like the other ones who only had guns and lasers."
The old man sighed. Of course he knew that this mission was a feat even for his best students—the dragon who had lightning at the tips of his fingers and storm behind his eyes, and the phoenix, his granddaughter who had more than enough fire within her to turn the world into ashes. He did not want to risk their lives, but if they wanted their colleagues to live, they would have to sacrifice and hack into the server of their rival. They needed confirmation on their enemy's plans of wiping out their camp.
"You know I would not send you or pick you if there was less than 80% chance of both of you getting out of there alive. I won't let you go unprepared or without back up. Pick two people whom you think can handle this mission to go with you. They should be able to handle three months of intense and rigorous training. The four of you should be ready to execute the mission within three months."
"I can't believe you are actually pushing through with this. Your granddaughter's life is on the line here." The dragon protested, the folder now sported five holes where he gripped it tight. He has been fighting beside her for four years. He still got aneurism whenever they are out to get the bad guys. He might actually blow an artery this time.
"I trust in you and your abilities. I trust that you won't let anything happen to her. I trust her and her abilities. I trust that she would get out of there alive with the mission completed. I trust in you both, your instincts and judgments," the old man said. The sound echoed in the four walls of his office, his voice full of authority. "Please bring your chosen people with you to the training simulator by 1500H. You are now dismissed."
The phoenix quietly skimmed the documents in her hand. If there was something she was better at compared to the dragon, it was schooling her emotions when all she wanted to do was blow a fuse like her partner did. Her head was anything but calm—the dragon was right. This was a definite suicide mission. But if somebody could pull this off, it was the two of them. She believed in her own abilities. She knew she could do it after the three-month long training. She also trusted him. She knew she could literally walk through hell knowing he's got her back.
"I'm bringing Patrick," she suddenly declared. Both of the men's heads snapped towards her. Both looked surprised at how calm and collected she was despite the impending death sentence.
The dragon stared at her. He had always admired the phoenix's bravery and emotional strength, but he knew how much she was struggling to keep herself in check.
Of course he knew. He knew her like the back of his hand, perhaps even better.
The phoenix finally looked up to see two sets of eyes looking at her in disbelief. "What do you expect me to do, join the both of you and blow my top off? You don't need another head going off like a kettle full of boiling water. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to inform Ian of the current situation and gear up for training."
She repetitively hit the tree with a partially straight branch, her jaw clenching tight, her arms sore. She was angry and disappointed. And if she would be frank, she felt rejected. She has been trying to get her grandfather to train her, but she always saw him with Richard, training him with spears and swords and guns and hand-to-hand combat. They were both so graceful that it almost looked like they were dancing a very dangerous dance where they could both end up severely wounded. Or dead, if a step was taken wrongly or taken a second too late.
