Cold sweat.

Dripping.

The stench fills the air. It’s all too familiar.

Recognize the emotions.

Panic.

Terror.

Pleading.

It’s the smell of fear.

Commit yourself, Agent.

But if you do, it will return.

Ticking, endless insomnia.

Guilt.

"Commit yourself."

Find your strength.

They are nothing but the enemy, the twisting, rotting scum of the world.

Commit.

Shots fire from the gun, each leaving a faint ripple in the fear-ridden air.

“Good work. Congratulations.”

Graduation.

Part I

Chapter One: The Reunion

...

In a small room on the top floor of Grand Central Casino, a man stood looking out a large glass window down at the city beneath him. He was tall; his lean, muscular arms propping himself against the glass and he peered down below. He wore no shirt and was casually smoking a cigarette. His scraggly blonde hair fell over his liquid blue eyes that seemed distant; lost in 7 years worth of thoughts.

A stirring motion from behind him caused his focus to break. The figure wrapped up in soft cashmere blankets beneath the canopied bed was moving. He looked back out the window and allowed his mind to roam deeper into the depths of his memory.

7 years had past.

7 years of turmoil, trauma, blood, sweat and tears. It would all be over within a matter of minutes. The treaty was to be signed at midnight. The cold war was over. The agency would be terminated. There would be no need for soldiers, no need to fight at last.

Footsteps; soft feet quietly crossing the carpeted floor. His supernatural hearing didn’t miss a thing. Warm hands slid gently up his chest. The soft breath of his companion sent a shiver of delight down his spine.

“What are you thinking about?” She asked, her voice delicate and comforting.

“A lot of things,” he replied truthfully, turning around to face her and wrapping an arm around her slender waist. Her dark, wavy hair fell over her shoulders to accent her radiant skin.

“Like what?” She said coyly, the corners of her pink mouth upturned in a playful grin. She was shorter then him, and her face nuzzled perfectly into his chest. He picked up a lock of her hair between two fingers absentmindedly as he looked back into her pale blue eyes.

“Like how on earth scrawny, awkward little Shay Lawley grew up into such a gorgeous woman in the past 7 years.” He smirked.

“7 years is a long time,” she laughed quietly, tracing her finger down the middle of his abs.

“You got another smoke?” He asked, distractedly, his thoughts once again shifting to the past.

It had been less then 48 hours since he had received the news that the war was coming to a stop. He had been sitting in his tent with a fellow agent, discussing the tactics for the morning mission when the Sergeant came around with the loud speaker declaring the good news. It had come as a shock to everyone; no one had suspected the war to end. It hadn’t even fully started. For the past 10 years the UPP and the rebellion forces had been feuding, throwing both parties into a cold war. Bombs had been dropped, shots had been fired, people from both sides killed, but the war had never been official. It was kept very hush-hush in order to subdue the fear of the people, so they could continue on with their everyday lives.

Everyday life had not been an option for Grayer Sawyer. He had signed up for the UPP army at age 17. The first six months were spent in grueling physical and basic warfare training. Most of the other soldiers were around his age, some older and some even younger. Grayer’s camp was full of all sorts. Young guys joining up to impress their girlfriends, anti-rebel enthusiasts who couldn’t wait to sink their teeth (or more appropriately, their bullets) into the rebel soldiers, older men who felt the need to serve their country, and some who were just bored and wanted an adventure. Grayer joined solely for one purpose. To serve and protect what he believed in. It paid off.

One day, a high-ranking official paid a visit to the training camp a few days prior to graduation. Grayer remembered standing at attention as the man past. It was a hot day, sweat dripped off the backs of the soldiers and onto the dusty earth of the desert. Sergeant Briggs, who had trained the troops at Delawa Military Training Facility paced up and down the ranks after the UPP official had stepped into the main building.

Sergeant Briggs had a very square face. He was easily over six feet and even more easily weighed over two hundred pounds in sheer muscle. Despite the rough appearances and harsh behavior, the Sergeant was a kind man, to those who respected him.

“Sawyer.”

“Sir.” Grayer saluted firmly, never letting the sweltering heat break his focus. As a soldier, nothing could break you. He had been mentally preparing for war just as often as he exerted himself in physical training.

“Step forward please.”

“Sir, yes sir.” Grayer stepped forward, the last bit of shade that had been covering his back was left behind as he fully exposed himself to the heat.

“Ryker. Fowler. Bates. Step forward as well.”

The three others stepped forward to join Grayer. They spared each other brief looks. The first, a dirty blonde with pale blue eyes stepped forward. This was James Ryker, a close friend of Grayer. The other two, Jason Fowler, who was well built with a handsome face and Bates, a tanned ex marine were also friends of Grayer. All four of them shared simular opinions about the war and how it was to be fought for a purpose.

Grayer returned his full attention to the Sergeant.

“Mr. White would like to see you in the main office, one at a time. Sawyer, you first.”

Grateful to escape the blistering rays of the sun, Grayer stepped into the fully air-conditioned icebox of an office. He was led into a small room with pale blue washed walls and an overhead lamp that swung with the waves from the fan. Grayer raised his hand to attention in the doorway.

“Sit, please.”

Grayer sat and looked closely at the mysterious official. Despite the sticky, dry weather, the man had chosen to wear a full black suit.

“Cigarette Private?” The man flicked a lighter several times, and then slid the box of camels down the table.

“Thank you sir.” Grayer nodded, pulling his own lighter out of his pocket.

Grayer studied the man’s face as he lit his cigarette. He had olive skin that had been worn from too much sun. Several ridges and scars marked his features and the stubble on his chin was rugged, yet professional. The man had vivid green eyes and non-descript short, brown hair; the typical style of army men.

“Wondering why you and your friends were chosen to meet me Private?” The man took a deep drag from his smoke and exhaled; blowing smoke rings up towards the ceiling.

“Yes sir.”

“Well, it has come to the attention of my good friend the Sergeant that you and your friends might be the type of men my organization is looking for.”

Grayer frowned. “UPP Officials sir?”

The man chuckled. “Please, call me Mr. White.”

“Yes sir, I mean, Mr. White.” Grayer grinned sheepishly.

“No, Private. Actually the organization I represent is top secret. I won’t actually be able to tell you the name at this meeting. But I can tell you a little bit about what we do and what we stand for. If you show interest by the end of this meeting, we will meet at a later time and you will learn more.”

Grayer fiddled with his hands nervously under the table but never took his eyes of Mr. White.

“The soldiers here that you train with, are all here for different purposes.” Mr. White sighed and dragged thoughtfully on his cigarette. “The organization I work for represents the percentage of soldiers who really truly serve in this war. The ones who believe in united politics and are willing to dedicate themselves completely to everything the UPP stands for. We believe, that you and your other three accomplices are exactly the type of recruits we are looking for. So tell me, you believe in the UPP?”

“Of course.” Grayer said firmly. “I stand one for political group representing all people and their needs. Equal balance and peace is what I signed up to fight for. I believe in it with all my heart.”

Mr. White’s green eyes searched Grayer thoughtfully.

“Your father. He was a colonel in the war against the rebellion wasn’t he?”

“Colonel Richard Sawyer, sir. First class.”

“I’m sure he would be proud to see you devoting your life to this party.”

“I believe so to sir.” Grayer replied. The mention of his father welled up an unexpected fierceness of dedication inside him. For some reason, he wanted to prove himself as best he could to this man.

“What I am about to propose to you, would make your father exceptionally proud.” Mr. White continued, taking another cigarette out of the package as he simultaneously stamped out his first.

“My organization holds the most key and important people to the UPP. The type of work we deal with his top secret, not to mention some of the most difficult and dangerous work in the army. We only chose the best of the best to be a part of this group. What I propose to you Private is complete a year of service. You will be offered an advanced salary of course. That’s only six more months for you. After that, if you believe yourself able to dedicate your services to us, we will pull you out of the general army and put you in training for a special unit. Do you think you could handle this, Private?”

“Yes sir.” Grayer nodded. “The more I can do for the UPP the better. This is a great honor sir.”

“Excellent.” Mr. White smiled tightly. “We’ll meet again in six months time. As for now, sign this contract of secrecy. You are not to mention anything said in this interview, not even to the other chosen three. Should I not see them fit in the interviewing process, I will not propose to them the offer I have just made you.”

“Very well Sir. Uh, if you don’t mind me asking something?”

“Go ahead Private.” Mr. White said with a wave of his hand.

“What made you trust me so fast?”

Mr. White smiled, his tie flapping slightly under the fan.

“I served under your father in my second year of service. He was a great hero of mine. I see a lot of you that I do in him. That’s why.”

“Thank you sir.”

“Your excused Private. See you in six months. And take another cigarette, they give you newbies nothing but dirt cheap ones out here.”

“Thanks again sir.” Grayer grinned and took three from the package before strolling out of the building, a sense of accomplishment and hope surrounding his thoughts.

--

Grayer shuddered although there was no wind. The thought of his first meeting with Mr. White stirred unpleasant memories that had occurred afterwards. The six months that had followed, his initiation into the brotherhood of service. The agency. The missions he had done. The people…

The people he had killed.

He placed a hand to his temple and rubbed it gently, as if trying to rid his head of the painful thoughts.

“You want some food?”

Grayer turned to see Shay, who was skipping across the room back towards the soft bed. Her long, dark wavy hair bounced on her tan back. Grayer inhaled deeply on his cigarette. At least he had a wonderful distraction.

“Sure, that’d be nice.” He said gently.

She sat herself down on the bed and reached for the telephone, smiling at him. He walked across the room and kissed her softly on the lips. He felt her mouth curve into a sly grin as they kissed, letting their tongues entwine freely.

“You up for some more?” She asked playfully as the embrace ended. Grayer sat on the bed while she lounged, playing with the edge of her delicate lace gown absently. Grayer liked the way it hugged her body in all the right places and revealed a good amount of her tanned, smooth skin.

“Maybe. But not until I get something to eat first.” He grinned and lay back on the bed, arms stretched above him.

Shay laughed and reached for the phone, dialing 3 for room service.

“Main desk.” Came the buzzing voice from the other end.

“I’d like to place an order? Top floor, last room on the left please. Tell Antoine to send the works. It’s Grayer’s first night back.” She winked at Grayer with one of her thick lashed blue eyes.

There was a pause on the other end.

“Top floor, last to the left?” The voice replied. Grayer watched as Shay frowned in puzzlement.

“That’s right.”

Grayer heard a distinct click from the other end of the line.

“That’s odd.” Shay murmured. “The line went dead. I wonder who’s working at the desk. They weren’t very polite.”

“Hrm.” Grayer said absently. He stared up at the ceiling. He remembered sleeping in this room as a kid, when he was mad at his mom. Shay’s Dad would always let him and Shay have sleepovers in the hotel. When they were in high school, he’d always let Grayer crash after a night of to much liquor or when his mom had been angry with him and refused to let him past the locked door.

One night popped into his mind. Shay had been so drunk she could barley walk and had insisted that Grayer spend the night with her so her Dad wouldn’t be angry. She had swiped the key from the main desk when he older brother who was on night shift was going to the bathroom. They had ridden the elevator, Shay almost throwing up all over the rich red carpet before they finally reached the top floor.

They had stumbled into the room, giggling and trying to keep quiet. Grayer remembered Shay tripping on the carpet and landing on the couch. Grayer had fallen on top of her laughing. They wound up spending the rest of the night kissing. They had been to drunk to do anything more, so they both fell asleep on the couch, both insisting they were far to incapable of crossing the three feet of carpet to make it to the bed.

Grayer smiled at the memory and then thought back to the mere hours before they had spent on the same bed they were laying on now.

“Goddamn it’s good to be back.” He sighed. “Pass me my smokes will yah?”

Shay hopped up and retrieved the pack and passed one to Grayer before lying next to him and grabbing one for herself.

“Thanks.” He said, sparking up the lighter. The embers burned the familiar deep orange as he filled his lungs. Shay dragged lightly, blowing out the smoke and barley inhaling any of it. The way she smoked bothered him, but it also made him laugh; just another one of her little quirks that made her so intriguing.

There was a curt, rap at the door that made both of them jump slightly.

“That was fast.” Shay frowned, forcing herself up.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it.” Grayer gestured for her to continue smoking as he got up and headed for the door. The knocking recommenced, loud and violent.

“Room Service!” Came a muffled voice from behind the door.

“Hang on a minute, Christ.” Grayer called irritably, searching around for his shirt.

He found it and tugged it over his head, rolling his eyes at Shay.

“What kind of guys had your Pops’ been hiring these days?”

Shay merely shrugged.

Grayer headed for the door, twisted the knob and opened it.

“Agent Sawyer?”

Grayer froze. He had expected several steaming trays of delicious food and a smiling waiter greeting him at the door. Instead, his sights were filled with the dark, black barrel of a sawed off shotgun, still smoking with the remains of its last shot.

“What the fu—“

The trigger clicked. And Grayer Sawyer slammed the door, diving to the ground as the deafening ripple of shots rang out behind him.