James' Future

The Agent

James Choke, currently known as John Stevens, tried to relax into the seat of the car. It was a difficult task when surrounded by armed men who he knew would have no qualms killing him if they knew who he really was.

The adrenaline rush from it still got to him though. It was why he did this job. He had tried to settle down for a standard and normal job as Ling had attempted to convince him to, but there was nothing like the rush of being on a mission where your life was in danger.

And what he was doing now was certainly putting his life in danger. Gang violence had exploded in London recently, and as an active MI5 agent, he was at the heart of it. He had been part of drug deals and extortion as a member of the Rippers, gradually winning the trust of Sarge, the big boss. He'd done well enough to be picked for their big job now.

He remembered his Cherub mission at fifteen when he had joined the Mad Dogs crew with Aled, who at the time called himself Bruce, of course because of his fixation on Bruce Lee. He was a bodyguard now. And it was hard to forget Lois, Sasha Thompson's sixteen-year old daughter. He wondered where she was now.

He smirked slightly. He still occasionally called his wife Kerry, even though her real name was Ling. At least he hadn't had any name change problems with his Dad, who had always known him as James, ever since he had met him ten years ago. His Dad didn't know what he did for a living though. No one outside of the Cherub group knew what he did, except of course for the other staff at MI5.

"Almost there," said the driver, turning slightly to the men in the back of the car. James nodded, cradling his semi-automatic pistol. There was a big drug deal happening between the Black Bulldogs and another rival gang, and once the Sarge had found out, he'd assembled a group of his best men to storm in and raid it. James was one of them. He had no idea how Sarge had found out, but he had and he had no choice but to go along with them. You didn't refuse a request from Sarge.

What Sarge didn't know, was that once the takeover was done, the flat would be stormed by armed Police as soon as he gave the signal. The whole scene should be bugged and filmed, with cameras James had installed covertly while scouting the area with his gang. And although the men were wearing balaclavas, they had missed a trick. The cameras being used were state of the art thermal imaging cameras that could make out the unique heat patterns and shape of each person. Sarge wouldn't storm the flat himself, but every order he made over the radio would be recorded. If it all went to plan every member would be identified and prosecuted, with hopefully no loss of life. But when did anything ever go to plan?

The biggest problem with this was that when the Police stormed in they wouldn't know he was an MI5 agent and would shoot first upon seeing his gun. But the Rippers, as his gang was caused, didn't accept cowardice and would turn on him instantly. A tricky situation.

The car stopped outside a shabby block of flats. James' heart was pounding. This was the thrill he lived for.

"Okay, prepare to move on my signal," said Sarge's crackly over the radio.

Various affirmatives ran through the radio. James checked his gun again. This was a highly ambitious raid on Sarge's part, but he'd been shown up by the Black Bulldogs before, and was desperate to re-establish his dominance. But he hadn't thought it through, and the plan pretty much consisted of charging in there all guns blazing. Not that the reasons really mattered anyway.

"Move!"

James and the others dived out of the cars and ran through the door to the apartment, guns ready. Footsteps clattered on the stairs as they made their way to apartment fourteen. Other than the sound of their footsteps, they couldn't hear anything. It was slightly worrying.

They reached the target door, number 14. This was the moment of truth. James was supposed to try and stop the situation getting too violent, with as few lives lost as possible. That looked difficult at the moment.

Now he could hear voices inside. One of the men, a huge man called Barrel, flipped his shotgun open to check the cartridges were good. Safety catches were flicked to off, and people took positions on each side of the door. They were ready. A young upstart called Kevin held a basic flash grenade - easily available at airsofting or paintball arenas.

"Barrel," whispered Drake, gesturing to the door.

Barrel moved forwards, ready to kick down the flimsy wooden door. Kevin clicked the ten second timer for the flash grenade.

As Barrel raised his foot, a gun blast tore apart the middle of the door and hit him in the stomach. Shit.

Kevin panicked and threw the grenade too early, giving the men inside time to run for cover, but clearing the room. The important thing was not to be caught on the outside and be shot on the way in, so James fired a warning shot towards one of the adjoining rooms to the entrance and dived inside under a table. Others followed him in. There were a few seconds of tense silence.

"Give us the drugs and the money," called out one of the Rippers, "No one else has to get hurt."

The reply was a volley of swear words and a shot. That would be a no. Glancing to the side, James saw another door leading off. Maybe if it led round he could get behind them and force them to surrender. It was possible. If the Police came now then there'd just be a huge shootout between all three parties. He needed to at least subdue the Black Bulldogs first.

"Boss, I'm going to try and go around them," said James, "It's all locked up here but if I can go through the side I might be able to take them."

"Do what you have to," said Sarge, sounding tense, "I trust your instincts, but don't get killed."

James nodded and quickly burst through the door a bedroom. It smelled, and had a one gram bag of cocaine on the bedside table. There were no other doors round. James swore.

And then he noticed the window.

James pulled himself onto the roof, sweating in the warm summer heat. He had studied the plan for the apartment with MI5, and knew the layout. He ran over to the other side, and descended the fire escape off the roof, noting the open window of number fourteen not far below. Another shot sounded, accompanied by a cry of pain, but he didn't know whose it was. It didn't matter.

He reached the window, and bursting with adrenaline, swung himself through, clattering right into one of the Bulldogs. Using the advantage of surprise, he brought the butt of his gun round and hit the man in the temple, knocking him out. As he fell, James fell with him to avoid the fire from the other gang members. He trained his gun on the shocked faces from behind the man. One had a bloody hand; two others were unarmed and hiding under a table. Four had guns in their hands.

"Drop your weapons!" he shouted, "Or you're all dead."

They froze, and James kept his pistol steady while using his other hand to pick up the fallen Bulldog's firearm. It looked like he'd pulled it off.

But Kevin, on hearing James' voice, had appeared in the doorway, startling James, and diverting his attention. On instinct, James pointed the gun at the new intruder, before realising who it was.

"Hey, don't point tha-" Kevin's words were cut off by shots fired by the Bulldogs. James fell back as a bone shattering impact knocked him down. He couldn't breathe, but he managed to direct his guns over the fallen Bulldog's head and let loose all the bullets in the magazine, even as his vision blurred from the pain. There was no blood; his MI5 issue bulletproof shirt had protected him, but there was almost certainly a broken bone in his shoulder and his head was unprotected. He had to stay alive, for Ling's sake, and for the sake of their unborn child. So he kept shooting.

The guns clicked empty, and James threw them down, surveying the damage.

James' efforts had given the Rippers the chance to take control of the situation, and the Black Bulldogs were subdued, all weapons confiscated. James propped himself against a wall and surveyed the damage. Two Black Bulldogs had been shot dead and another was bleeding out, certainly dying. A couple of others were wounded but alive, but no Rippers had been killed in the fiasco, unless Barrel died. The others began to clear the house and regroup.

James pressed the button on his watch, signalling the Police. There would be repercussions for this carnage, he was sure. Although, he thought wryly, with Kyle as his lawyer he'd probably be alright. Then his heart sank. How many of those men had he killed in the carnage? One was too many.

CRASH!

The armed Police burst in quickly, overwhelming the unsuspecting Rippers before they could react, slamming them down and cuffing them. Their automatic machine guns easily outclassed the pistols of the Rippers. An ambulance was called for the badly injured, and those that weren't were cuffed, with the exception of James, who had been given special privileges by order of the head of MI5. James felt another stab of pain from his shoulder when he shifted.

Sighing, he forced himself to his feet to hitch a ride to the hospital.

As it turned out, the shoulder was only fractured, not broken, and earned him no sympathy from the head of staff at MI5, who came to visit him in his private room.

"Your job was to try and stop casualties, not cause them yourself!" burst out his boss, David Jones.

"But they opened fire on me! Did you want me to just let myself get shot?" he replied, trying to keep his patience, "They're members of one of the most vicious gangs in London, did you expect them to just roll over?"

"Of course not, but you shot three of them! Even the most stupid of thugs will back down when they know they're defeated, you didn't have to try and kill them!" he exclaimed, "But that's not the point, you went off on some crazy scheme to do it all yourself. What were you thinking? Especially after what happened on your last mission."

"But sir, there was a standoff," he explained, "As it was, neither side was going to back down unless forced, and I thought I could stop a big shootout."

"And that worked so well," replied David snidely, "You know, I'm beginning to question your judgement in these situations. You seem to have an unusual affinity with criminals, and you seem to play your part too well."

"What are you saying?" asked James, a sense of doom beginning to settle on him.

David sighed.

"The head and I have agreed that you need a break from being out in the field. I believe there is a place available in administration," he said, "But your role as an agent will not be resumed."

"But that's ridiculous," James blurted, "I'm not a criminal. I may have made a couple of errors of judgement, but I don't deserve to lose my job for it."

David smirked slightly.

"You're not losing your job, we just think that-"

"There's no way I'm becoming some stupid pen-pusher, so you can shove it up your arse," said James, storming out, and slamming the door behind him and muttering to himself.

"Uppity bastard, who does he think he is...?"

He met Ling out in the car park, manoeuvring around her pregnant belly to give her a kiss on the cheek. He sensed something was wrong. He got in the car.

"How's the shoulder?" she asked stiffly, eyes on the road.

"Fractured, it should be okay in a couple of weeks," he replied.

"You know, James, I think you need to give up all this crazy nonsense," she said, "Our baby can't have a father who goes rushing off into danger all the time. You need to grow up. Please James, you need to grow up. We're not at Cherub anymore."

"I'll try," said James, exhaling loudly.

She looked at him with those beautiful brown eyes

"I'm serious this time. I love you, but I can't put up with this all the time," she side.

James nodded, quiet, thinking. Maybe it was time he grew up. He could have died today.

When they reached home, he got out without saying anything, and went up to his study, which was fitted out with the latest Playstation console and a Plasma TV.

He picked up the phone. He still had the number. Once pleasantries were out of the way, he got down to business.

"Hey, Zara, I was just wondering if there was a chance arranging a meeting at some point..."

Two weeks later

He kissed his wife goodbye as he left for his first day at his new job.

"I hope it goes well," smiled Ling, "Well done on getting the job. I'm happy for you."

They hugged, and then he set off.

Now he had his new job Ling would be able to leave her Doctor's practice and become a full-time Mum without having to worry about money.

It had all been set up quite quickly in the end. The interview had gone well, and Zara had given him the job of junior mission controller. Lauren had been happy to hear about it of course. She was the chief supervisor of all the little red shirts on campus, a job she loved. She and Rat lived nearby, so the commute was good for her.

He smiled at the thought of working at Cherub again. It wasn't the thrill he'd been looking for these past few years, but it would be fun to see the new agents and buildings. Cherub had been hard work a lot of the time of course, but he'd had a laugh, and it was a good place. He knew he'd enjoy working there-he got on well with kids and there were sure to be familiar faces.

He looked forward to it. It was better than throwing himself into danger like before.

After all, he had a family now.