The G Game

by bluemicrocosm

-- Prologue --

“I’m jealous.” She flips back to the cover page of one of the dossiers. A head shot of a boy, taken from his school photo, occupies the top left corner. He smiles into the camera just enough to show a hint of perfect teeth. Golden hair frames deep blue eyes; a face glows with a healthy tan. Charismatic. Refined. A real heartthrob.

“Lediv Lex-lux, age seventeen. Senior at Trojan High. Currently ranked top of his class. Captain of the Academic Decathlon Team. Won the International Tennis Federation Junior Tournament in Boys Singles last year,” she reads. Unmarked numbers press against the margins, and while she can guess out the meaning of some, such as weight and height, the others she needs to verify.

“What’s this?”

The man leafing through the other dossier peers over, following her manicured nail to a three-digit number.

“I believe,” he says, “that is his IQ.”

A pause. Then: “Are you sure there, uh, wasn’t a typo?”

“That’s what I thought too. But this kid’s the same. Check it out.” The man hands over the dossier. “Kiros Fircuel, age seventeen. Also a senior at Trojan High. Tied for valedictorian. Writes open source software. Winner of the NASA Space Settlement Competition for his space colony design.”

“Not an outdoor person, is he?” she mutters. The boy is so pale that he might as well have been born and raised in a basement. Dark hair and eyes exaggerate his pallor. He isn’t as primed as Lex-lux; his hair is a little on the long side and the top button of his shirt is popped open. Nor does he shine – not with that golden brilliance Lex-lux seems to exude. Yet there’s something about him, a sort of alluring darkness, that gently draws one’s attention.

A trace of Asian descent shows in his features. She glances at the profile sheet. Half-Chinese. Her brows shoot up when she reaches the bottom of the page. “No kidding.”

“You mean the IQ?”

“Yeah. Like I said, makes me kind of jealous.”

“If I had scores like that, I probably wouldn’t be here today.” The man hesitates, then rubs his chin thoughtfully. “No, wait, maybe I would. We are targeting them for their smarts.”

“I get why they’re candidates, but I don’t get why we’re put on this assignment. I’ve never recruited in my life. You?”

The man shakes his head. “Wait. Don’t you know that kid?” He taps the dark-haired boy’s file.

“Never met him in my life. I heard of him, thought he’d be a good match, and reported to the boss.”

“Maybe that’s why you’re on the job,” says the man, raising his brows. “Well, at least you can spy. I just kill people, which makes me wonder how I got pulled into this.”

She considers this briefly. “True.”

He grins at her. “You’re not afraid?”

“Please, honey. I’ve kicked butts far more dangerous than yours,” she scoffs.

“I thought you’re a spy.”

“You don’t work in espionage without knowing how to throw a killer left hook. Want to see?”

“Maybe on someone else.” The man drops the other dossier on top of the one she is holding. “In the mean time, your stealth would be better used on these two.”

“You’re in this with me, partner.”

He stretches languidly and says, “I’ll fetch the popcorn while you install the cameras. Be sure to get some good angles.”

“Jerk.”

“Love you too.”