Smokescreen

6

Charles "Chip" Schater had achieved almost everything he could ever want. After being recruited into the academy at age 11, he had quickly learned how to be the top dog. It was easy to use intimidation, just like he had at his old school. So, instead of pouring time into his schoolwork- he already knew most of it- he put time into his appearance.

Which is why, when Chip entered the gym at his normal time at 3:30 in the afternoon, he was surprised to see another figure, furiously boxing with a speed bag. It was a man, in CIA academy shorts- available at the gift shop- and a loose tank that easily exposed his toned back.

"Hello?" Chip called out. The man spun around, his gun drawn and his entire body at the ready. Chip instinctively raised his hands in surrender. He squinted a bit, trying to get his eyes to focus on the man's face.

"Ben?" Chip exclaimed, fixing the position of the glasses he had been forced to get by Zoe after he ran into a wall- Chip had been denying his bad vision for years beforehand. The man relaxed slightly, stowing his weapon but moving to face Chip, who stared at his old friend in horror.

There were scars of all different kinds traced on Ben's body. He would have assumed they were tattoos with how many there were. They varied- puffy and red to white and raised skin. The most shocking were the brand on his neck that he had shown them before, and a large gash from his right shoulder to his left hip, like a monster had taken a large claw and tried to cut him open.

It was then that Chip realised that he hadn't seen Ben this open since they were younger. When he saw the younger boy around the hallways, Ben was always wearing a baggy sweatshirt and jeans, a foil to Chip's pressed sweaters, khakis and business shoes. He had been trying to hide the tiger striped scars on his forearms.

This shocked Chip for a number of reasons. Ben had always seemed like a rubber band. You can stretch it, and stretch it, and stretch it, but as long as it doesn't snap, it'll always bounce back to normal. It always amazed him. True, he hadn't reached out to Ben in years, but he had tried to do his part and get others trying to get into the boy's way to go away.

"I-I'm sorry." Chip said lamely, gesturing to Ben's scars. Ben raised an eyebrow.

"You haven't cared in years." Ben said. "Why start now?"

Chip stood there at a loss, staring as Ben completely ignored him and picked up the weights. The past was meant to be remembered, not re-lived, Chip reminded himself as his fingers twitched. How was he supposed to talk to Ben?

You see, if it wasn't for his spot-on aim and interest in foreign policy, well, Chip might have been an actor. He was good at undercover work, inhibiting and portraying a character, so Chip decided to put a character to seem more comfortable. He'd been a field agent for two years now, and at age 20, he was thinking that the harrowing auditions of Broadway and the threat of failure would have been a safer choice than the circus show that went on daily at the CIA.

Acting grandiose and supercilious never worked with Ben, he remembered that. Although it used to, Chip had seen Ben grow more confident in himself. Any attempt at intimidation would be scoffed at, so Chip offered an olive branch in the form of information.

"I was passing by a board room," Chip began. The only sign of interest on Ben's face was the slight quirking of his left eyebrow. "I overheard them talking about the brand on Erica's arm. It's from an old drug lord that used to run the east coast in the nineties called Corvus."

He started to lose confidence there. Ben didn't seem to be listening anymore. Maybe he knew this already. Chip pushed on, however. There was no way that Ben could have known what he was going to say, right?

"I- I, well, I looked up the name. It means raven in Latin. Well, the mark burnt into Erica... and you, looks awfully similar to his." No reaction. "But Corvus supposedly went missing around 2003, and the trail went cold. However, this new operation, using the club as a cover, works as a drug, trafficking and plastic surgery ring."

Chip hastened to explain as Ben moved to a different machine. "It means that they take known criminals and change their faces & identities so they can't be recognized. It's something that Corvus was known for. I'm thinking that this is either Corvus or his successor. The CIA had a really good lead, but they shut it down once the body was found. Obviously, they couldn't have been sure that it was him..."

Chip trailed off as Ben turned on the speaker sitting on the treadmill to play some rock music. Shaking his head, Chip started to walk away. What was the use? Ben had no reason to listen to him. Chip shouldn't have even been looking into this case- it wasn't his.

"Be careful what you say." Ben said, not looking at him. Chip spun around. "You don't know who could be listening."