She Will Persist

23

Axel

Flagg's eyes were boiling. His face was more terrifying than I'd ever seen it. All 11 of us were lined up in front of him in one of the debriefing offices with our hands behind our backs and an even stance apart.

Harrison, Zach, Cal, me, James, Quinn, Lucky, Adira, Blitz, Lautaro, Owen.

We got back from New York not even an hour ago and Flagg had called us all into his office before we could independently be debriefed. He knew about everything that happened before we even got here. How the hell was that possible?

He stared down at the line of us once more, before looking down at his where his fists were smashed onto the table. "Okay then," he said, calmly raising his head. "Since all of you are apparently too damn stubborn to talk on your own, let's bring up Andrew's mistake first." 

"Every. Damn. Time," Flagg started, looking at my best friend. "Every damn time something goes wrong on a mission, you always have something to do with it. Why I even bother anymore, I don't know. So, say, two to three years suspension? Will that be enough for you to get it into your head that you need to live up to your potential? Will that be enough for you to get it in your goddamn mind that I own you?"

Harrison shifted his stance, and I could see him biting his tongue in half from where I was. Harrison knew how to be a good soldier —don't speak unless spoken to, follow orders with a perfect execution. It was in his blood. Whether or not he followed that instinct was always up for debate. Because Harrison, like me, had something else bubbling inside him. Hate, rebellion, a barely caged beast. Flagg had agents drag him here minutes after Harrison found out his parents died. He was trembling now, trying to keep from exploding since he knew Flagg could do so much worse to him. But three years? He'd gone nuts after just eight months of being locked inside.

"What was that?" Flagg asked him innocently, putting a hand behind his ear. Harrison squeezed his hands into fists and continued to look at the ground.

"Oh, that's right —nothing." He looked over at Owen next, but the blond boy kept his eyes fixed on the opposite wall. "Hoffmann."

Owen took a breath, "Sir—"

"Shut it!" The Flagg yelled. The sound echoed in the room and everyone flinched. He jammed a finger in the German's direction. "You are the last person who should be speaking right now. You're the one I'm furious with the most. And you know what I am capable of when I am furious." Owen's already fair skin turned paler as Flagg started around the desk. "You should be thankful for everything I've done for you, but instead you're throwing it all away to chase after some dick." James' eyes darkened and behind him his hands clenched tighter together. "You put your amazing talents to fucking waste!" Flagg continued, his voice rising. He suddenly swept his hands over the desk, knocking the computer and pencil cup and keyboard off of it and sending it all crashing to the floor. Everyone jumped.

Flagg approached Owen and got directly in his face and the German's blue eyes began to glint with fear. "I spent so long shaping you into the perfect agent! Someone worthy enough to be my successor!" He screamed. "And you have to go and fucking waste it toying with a psychotic slut not worth shit!"

Flagg shoved him backwards, so hard Owen fell onto his back, then started to kick him, over and over, in the face, stomach, head, everywhere. James broke forwards and tried to help but two of the Director's guards rushed towards him from their station at the door and held him back, and wrapped a hand over his mouth. The redhead was quickly overpowered but that didn't stop him from trying to scream under the grips of the guards.

Finally Flagg did stop, leaving Owen in a crumpled ball on the floor. His eye was red and bleeding from kicked there and scraps of skin from the ridges on the bottom of Flagg's boots were all over his arms. The cut across his torso had reopened and we could see it was already starting to bleed through his black shirt.