On the quality improvement of Omega agents

Beast's Nostalgia

The dark-haired man raised his eyebrows indifferently.

Bruce looked at his agent sitting in the cabin in a particularly embarrassing condition. The tattered shirt had long been unrecognizable, and the black and red blood had dried up into large swaths of stains. One sleeve had long disappeared, and the other sleeve had disappeared. It hung on the left arm in the shape of cloth strips, which could not cover the fine wounds on the man's arm.The blond agent sat on the closed cabin door with his legs wide open, with a lazy look, not paying attention to the metal pinching his back.

"Why did you get yourself into a dead end," the senior officer of CIA asked indifferently.

Randall's breath was not steady, he smiled, "That's what makes it interesting, sir."

Bruce glanced at him, but didn't follow the topic.He could see the terrifying bloodshot eyes of the blond agent, and the smell of blood in the cabin had almost overshadowed the smell of gunpowder. This was not a good omen.

After a few seconds of silence, Randall looked at the two Delta soldiers sitting next to Bruce, curled his lips in disdain, and the other party stared at him coldly.The blond agent raised his eyebrows, and then showed a particularly fierce smile. ——Don't provoke me, only I have the right to sneer at you, not you to stare at me, understand? !

Bruce looked at the blond man's injured and extremely childish behavior, and the corners of his lips twitched.

"Treat your wounds."

Bruce signaled, and a special forces guard pulled out a first-aid kit from his backpack and threw it to Randall.The blond agent grinned at his officer.

Bruce glanced at his dirty shirt, and said, "If there is anything wrong, deal with it as soon as possible. You will arrive at the transit airport in two hours, and you will need further modification when you return."

Randall raised his eyebrows: "Is the final stage of the breakpoint plan going to be implemented?" He gave Bruce a particularly innocent and curious baby smile.

The dark-haired man didn't look surprised that his agent—or, rather, the subject—knew how the plan was progressing, and he just curled the corners of his lips slightly, and it didn't look like a smile. "You know you're indispensable, don't you, Agent?"

Randall smiled reassuringly, and he didn't ask any more questions. He just picked up the tattered shirt, and took an alcohol cotton ball to roughly poke the wounds from one end to the other.The blond man put the clothes in his mouth and began to wrap the bandages around his body.Bruce didn't speak, just watched his agent slowly wrap his upper body into the shape of a mummy, wondering what he was thinking.

Sharp scratches, fragments, lacerations, bullet penetrating wounds, the original fair skin was destroyed in a mess, there was only one scar left that was not bandaged, the bullet passed across the side of the waist, and a huge hole was opened, the blood was still intermittent The gauze doesn't help.

Randall gritted his teeth holding the alcohol cotton, he looked up at Bruce: "Sir, I guess you don't have needles and threads on this helicopter?"

Bruce raised his eyebrows, he glanced at Randall's wound, "No."

Randall stood up holding the cabin door. His tall man could only bend his body slightly in the cabin, and his movements were a little slow.The blond agent wobbled towards Bruce.

"Crack", the special forces guard next to him hit the bolt.

Randall rolled his eyes, and Bruce let him toss around him.

The slightly warm breath of the blond agent's breath brushed against the side of Bruce's face. He smelled of blood and gunpowder, but the black-haired man did not dodge.He watched Randall pull out a stapler from a file bag nearby.

"Is there any smoke?"

Bruce didn't speak, and the soldier on the side took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and handed it to Randall. The blond man rewarded him with a childish smile.He resumed his carefree sitting posture and exhaled a puff of smoke.

Randall smoked infrequently, but he smoked quickly, and a cigarette was burnt down quickly.

The blond agent put out the cigarette butt in his hand, and then picked up the stapler. There was almost no sound when the flesh was stapled together, only the click of the staple being pushed down.The facial muscles of the two special forces soldiers sitting next to Bruce twitched.

Bruce looked at the thin puddle of blood where the agent was sitting, and the blond man stared down at the wound, unable to see his expression, only big beads of sweat rolling down his forehead and cheeks.Metal staples were nailed crookedly to the wound, like a piece of poor stitching, and the flesh that had turned outward at first was finally closed together obediently—with the help of the stapler.

Bruce didn't pay much attention to the slender shape of metal that penetrated into the flesh. Randall trembled when he wrapped the gauze around the wound. The blond man seemed to want to laugh, but it didn't work.He tied the gauze wrapped around his wound into a big bow, with a serious and serious expression.

Bruce took his stapler back from Randall's hand and casually wiped the blood off it.

Randall took off his tattered and smelly shirt, and he gave Bruce an ambiguous smile, "Sir, do you have any clothes to wear?"

Bruce raised his jaw at the guard next to him, and the soldier took out a camouflage T-shirt from his backpack expressionlessly and handed it to Randall.The blond man smiled. He tried to put the t-shirt, which was a little tight for him, on his body, but his movements were a little slow.Bruce watched as the blond agent sitting on the ground carefully stretched his back in order to put on his clothes, and the tense muscles slowly stretched out, making people inexplicably reminiscent of those lazy cats.The suit was a bit small for Randall's size, and the man tucked himself into the T-shirt like a giant cocoon, a handful of blond hair protruding from the opening of the suit.The dark-haired man looked at his agent.

It was not the first time for Smith from the Delta Special Forces to escort the Chief of the CIA Task Force. He knew that even if he saw some things, he would immediately force himself to forget them in the next second.He was just curious as he erased the memory of that moment.

——Is the officer laughing?

Randall managed to put on his "new clothes", which looked a little tight, and the camouflage fabric stuck to the blond man's body, outlining the muscle lines.The helicopter was very quiet, only the noise of the propeller was heard, and no one spoke.His chief didn't know when he took out another document and read it with a flat face.

Randall smiled softly, and he said, "Thank you, sir."

Bruce raised his eyes from above the file to look at him, his brown pupils couldn't see the emotion clearly in the dim light of the cabin: "Just drop by."

Randall smiled, and he didn't intend to make any more detours: "Did you give my information to the Intelligence Department of Region I?"

Bruce looks at him.

"Then save me again, this circle is a bit big." Randall muttered.He looked directly into Bruce's eyes indifferently, blue pupils meeting the brown, blond man's smile sincerely.

"If you want my allegiance, you don't need to do this, sir." He softened his voice a little, and said, "If you just think I'm useless," the blond agent paused, and then spoke lightly.

"Just one word will do."

Bruce looked at Randall for a few seconds, and suddenly said: "You are indispensable for the breakpoint test, Mr. James, I have already said it." The black-haired man's voice was cold: "Don't question me, agent."

Randall laughed, and said, "I know, sir." His blue eyes flickered, and then he shrugged his shoulders, "There won't be a next time." Bruce didn't say much, and looked at it again His file was finished, and the curve of Randall's lips deepened a little. —his superior indulged him too much.

How could the CIA's senior intelligence officer not know that Randall was just taking the opportunity to force him to show up.The blond agent thought of herself like a little girl who was anxious about gain and loss, eager to see how much weight she had in another person's heart.

He knew Bruce had been listening, he knew this mission was going to kill him, he knew someone in the cia, whoever it was, wanted him dead somewhere in the corner where no one would care.He knew how much such a temptation would cost. ——But this thing is like his adrenaline addiction, he couldn't help but try, couldn't help but look forward to the result.Bruce has never been a character to be tested, and Randall has never been afraid of death.

Bruce read a page of the document, closed the pages, and then said slowly: "No next time, Mr. James." He repeated what Randall had just said, as an emphasis, in a flat voice.

The blond agent shrugged his shoulders, "As long as you still need me." Maybe they have a domesticated and domesticated relationship, he can't get close to him, and he doesn't want to stay away.Randall doesn't know exactly what this feeling is all about, he doesn't, and Bruce never seems to need it.But in this world, it seems that only the two of them are connected to each other.Beasts belong to the wilderness, but the warmth of people is indelible.

As long as you say, you still want me, I will turn back

There seemed to be a momentary pause for Bruce, and he stared at the blond agent for a few seconds, a faint gleam in his brown eyes. CIA's intelligence officer said: "You are my best agent, Randall."

His blue-eyed leopard, just said that as long as he wants him, he won't go.

The blond man was slightly taken aback, and he let out a silly smile when he heard Bruce pronounce his name.