Specific Ratings: E-T, F-K, G-M
Author's Note: I'll be updating more often, I'm kind of on a roll. I have to go in a new direction for I though, the one I have now is heavy MB before MA. Anyhoo, hope you enjoy the new part!
Enough
It had just made sense. They had constantly been spending the nights at one apartment or the other; planning supply runs, heists, which building to renovate, how to keep order between the different series, who should be in charge of what… When the population of Terminal City got too large for the habitable apartments Max had simply packed up her meager belongings and moved into Alec's larger, more furnished home.
Two bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen and living room; perfect for two friends who ran a small nation. It quickly became established through loud arguments and a few knock-down, drag-out fights, that each had a few quirks that the other wasn't pleased with and they would have to accept those idiosyncrasies and move on.
So Max never complained about the scotch filled cabinet and the constant background noise of the television. And Alec never commented on the girly cosmetics and clothes left lying in the bathroom or her annoying habit of prowling around in the middle of the night.
It was also an unspoken agreement never to discuss their love lives. Alec didn't bring his conquests back to the apartment, and if Max was rude to the other women in his life, he chalked it up to her being a bitch. Max never brought Logan into TC after he left, and if Alec huffed and tried to distract her when she went to leave for Sandeman's house, she simply thought he was being a jerk.
So when she came home one night, flush from very carefully conducted sexual acts, to find him staring into a glass with two fingers of aged scotch sloshing around the bottom, she thought nothing of it.
"How was your night?" she asked, pulling her leather bike gloves from her hand with her teeth. "Alec?" she inquired when he didn't answer. Max looked over at him to find him watching her, green eyes unblinking. She rubbed her hands together, feeling a little nervous. "What?" she said defensively.
He was in front of her in an instant, and she had no time to react before he was gripping her wrists. He held one hand up to study, expression unreadable. Her fingers curled toward her palm, aware that just an hour ago it had been covered in a latex glove, gliding over Logan's body.
She had washed away the scent of semen and latex residue, coated her hands in strawberry lotion before concealing them in her leather gloves, but she thought he still might be able to smell what she had been doing. The dark look that slipped in his eyes suggested he could.
Max lifted her head, defiant. He had sex every week with women he barely knew. What right did he have to judge how she spent the time she had with the man she loved.
His hand slid from her wrist until they were palm to palm and he locked their fingers together tightly, bringing them to waist level while he raised her other hand. The right hand, the hand that had been holding white-knuckled to the sheets to prevent her from losing her precarious position on the bed and accidentally killing her boyfriend. The hand that was free of taint.
Soft lips brushed across the sensitive skin of her palm and Max gasped. He watched her closely as he clasped this hand too, their fingers twining loosely, easily, and then he leaned in and her eyes fluttered shut.
The corner of his lips touched hers and his cheek rubbed against hers and Max thought she might stop breathing it felt so wonderfully intimate. His warm breath breezed across her ear, "Is it enough?"
She pulled back and he pulled back, and she looked at him confused. "Is what enough?"
He squeezed her left hand, and let it go, reaching into her jacket pocket to pull out another latex glove. "This."
Licking dry lips, she met his intense gaze. "It has to be."
He nodded, and suddenly the intensity was gone, and he was back to being her cocky Smart Alec. "Let's see what's on the boob tube tonight." He moved away, back to the beat-up couch and his bottle of scotch. She tried not to think about how her right hand clung to his as he moved out of reach. They had set up ground rules for a reason, and this night would never be mentioned again.
Max snatched the remote away and turned the screen off. "We have to set up guard rotation tonight, fool, no time for the boob tube."
"Aww, Maxie…"
And everything was back to normal in the tiny two person apartment.
Frosting
Original Cindy strolled into Jam Pony at the end of the business day to find Alec perched on the dispatch desk, his expression flickered between miserable and 'come hither' depending on who was looking at him at the time. "Alec, honey, what are you doing?"
The other messengers were getting ready to leave; making plans to meet at Crash, shouting jokes over the tops of the lockers, betting on whether the boss would fire Skye for missing three days of work, and exchanging herbal serenity. "Normal left me in charge while he oversees Sketchy in the men's room."
"Fool plugged it up again?"
"Yep. Normal's making sure he doesn't make a break for it. Got your signature sheet?"
She handed it over and he pulled of the used sheet and placed it in a pile with the others for the day, hanging the clipboard with the blank sheets on a nail on the wall. The answering machine was already blinking with messages for tomorrow. "What's with the kicked puppy look?" she inquired, hopping up to sit beside him.
"I want cake," he stated.
"What?" 'Cuz that would've been the most random thing she'd heard all day if that hobo hadn't grabbed her bike handles and told her the sky was falling.
"Angel food cake," he said, eyes focused on Libby. The willowy blonde was changing her shirt, uncaring about the still milling employees. "Uncomplicated, a little bland, but with Cool Whip frosting. Airy." His tongue flicked out to wet his lips and Libby gave a little arch as she adjusted her hemline, throwing the desk, and therefore Alec, a flirting glance out of the corner of her eye.
"Uh-huh."
"Or maybe a confetti cake."
"And who would that be?"
"Megan." He tilted his head to the side, indicating the bouncy brunette that was laughing at something Remy was saying. "Sweet, light, but sometimes you get a burst of a colored sprinkle. Like, red would be when she gets angry and blue when she's overemotional, and green when she's being all maternal…"
Damn if that boy didn't know people. "Frosting?"
"Pink, definitely."
"Rhonda?"
Alec gave the honey blonde Amazon a considering look. "Pound cake."
"Sounds about right," OC agreed, giving the other woman a smile. She made OC want to climb her. "Chrissy?"
"Coffee cake."
"Song?"
"Ice cream cake."
"Neely?"
"Carrot."
"Sara?"
"Sara's not a cake, she's an apple pie, try again."
"Aerin?"
"Marble, no question."
"Lee?"
"Lemon."
"Yvette?"
"Spice."
"All right, how about OC?"
"You?" Alec studied her, grinning. "You're Devil's Food. Rich, chocolate, decadent, completely forbidden, and bad for me. 'Cause, you know, you're a lesbian and I'm pretty sure, genetically superior DNA or not, you could kick my ass."
Cindy had to laugh, "Damn straight, boo. What about my frosting?"
"Homemade chocolate icing."
"Mmm, that's the best kind."
"Yeah."
"What about Max?"
"Max," Alec repeated, voice going a little dark, "Max is the lady standing behind the selection counter telling me I can look but can't touch. Max is a frickin' sixteen layer wedding cake made up of sixteen different flavors and covered in fondant and sugar roses so that no one can see where someone snuck a bite underneath the perfect frost job."
OC read the bitterness for what it was; disappointment mixed with longing. Her boo had the baby boy all mixed up in himself so that he wasn't sure what he should want or what was okay for him to want. So Alec was standing at the cake counter and not sampling anything because he wanted to take the cake lady home and instead, she was berating him for taking so long to pick one and sticking with it.
"Alec-"
"Can you believe Normal sent me all the way to Sector Eight fifteen minutes before closing? The man's a sadist."
Speak of the real Devil's Food and there she was, striding down the ramp like she owned the place and handing Alec her clipboard with a little smile. OC couldn't help but notice that his expression had gone from abject misery to a grinning brightness the instant she looked at him. Poor boy. "Well, that sadist has been stuck in the little boy's room with Sketchy for…" she trailed off, looking at Alec.
"Almost an hour."
Max shuddered, "Well, then, I guess I'll call it even. Hey, I picked this up," she was reaching in her backpack, "Thought you might be interested." And she handed the other X-5 a flyer.
OC leaned over to read. It was just a small thing, advertising a pool tournament in Six, with a grand prize of $1,000. "Thanks, Maxie," Alec said, his voice a little husky and his hazel eyes were soft.
"Whatever, just made me think of you. I'm heading over to Joshua's, he learned how to make pizza. You up for it?"
"Yeah, totally."
"OC?"
"I've got a date tonight with a pound cake." She and Alec both grinned at the look of confusion on Max's face.
"Okay." She took a step backward. "I'm just gonna put my bag away." And she stalked over to the lockers.
"Never mind about wedding cakes," Alec said, clutching the piece of paper, "Max is a lava cake."
"That the thing with the gooey center?" Alec nodded and they continued to watch the dark-haired transgenic. "That's a good choice."
"Yeah," he slid of the counter as they caught sight of Normal and Sketchy exiting the bathroom in the back. "It's my favorite."
Girl
"Simon!" A hand clamped down on his shoulder and 494 had to restrain himself from going into a counter attack. "You up for some fun tonight?"
He turned, smiling at the other young man. "What did you have in mind?"
Blue eyes lit up at the response and 494 suspected that Rob had expected a negative answer. Simon Lehane was tight-laced, conservative, and a general stick-in-the-mud, but 494 was not, and he usually waited to give in to Rob's wheedling attempts until the man was almost about to give up.
"It's a surprise, we'll slip out during the after dinner cigars. Rach did invite you, right?" 494 nodded in affirmation. "Great! I'll catch you after lessons." He was gone, leaving 494 outside the music room until a glowing Rachel Berrisford pulled him to sit beside her on the piano bench.
494's observation of Robert Berrisford had been expedited by his children's willingness to have Simon Lehane integrated into their daily lives. Rachel; beautiful, young Rachel, innocently invited him to every family dinner, formal parties, and informal gatherings with a smile and bright blue eyes. Robert, Jr.; brilliant, charismatic Rob, dragged him everywhere after dark, despite his feigned reluctance, with a smirk and a devilish look in his own blue eyes. The super soldier's handler was pleased and had informed 494 for cultivate both the daughter's flirtation and the son's camaraderie.
And so 494 found himself standing with Rob at midnight in a Sector Mr. Berrisford, Sr. had forbidden his offspring to enter without an escort, staring at what could only be called a den of iniquity. "The Blowfish Tavern?" he inquired drily.
"Just give it a chance," Rob cajoled, "The girls are hot, and, for just a little extra, they'll bring you into a back room." Reading the dubious look he gave the X5 a push. "Slumming it is in right now, man. You'll see, a lot of our crowd will be here." 494 found it amusing that since Rob considered him a friend, he was automatically brought to Rob's social standing. "C'mon Simon!"
"Fine," he relented, playing the uptight piano teacher, "But I'll probably leave within the half hour."
Rob rolled his eyes. "Spoil sport," he muttered.
He followed his target's son in and looked around at the neon lights, dark corners, scantily clad women, and wished he wasn't on an assignment that had him posing as a tight-ass. Because, honestly, if there was one thing 494 knew how to do well, besides assassinations, it was how to have fun.
"Who's that?" The question slipped out as soon as he caught sight of her; all long limbs and dark hair moving sinuously to the beat of the music that pumped through the air.
"Man, you sure know how to pick 'em."
"Why?" He didn't look away and his gaze caught hers for a moment.
"That's Angel, probably the hottest girl in the place, and she's off limits."
"Why?" 494 demanded. She was definitely looking right at him.
"See the guy she's dancing for?" 494's eyes slid to the side and nodded curtly. The other man was older, thin, slightly scruffy, and appeared to be drooling. 494 could totally take him. "That's Logan Cale, future CEO of Cale Industries. His family owns half of Seattle and he's their golden boy. He's in here every night just to keep an eye on what's his. Damn shame, too, a fine looking woman like that…"
"Huh." She was, without a doubt, looking at him.
"Robby!" The exclamation was shrill. "I missed you!" The little doing the squealing was suddenly in Rob's arms and 494's eyebrows rose at her unusual use of tongue. "Who's this?" she asked, breaking the kiss and giving 494 a very interested once over.
"This," Rob smiled, "is my good friend, Simon. Simon, this is my very good friend, V." He hitched her closer and she giggled. The older man pulled out a hundred and the prostitute grabbed it. "For a room."
"Gotcha sweetie." She hooked her arm in his, winking, and then looked at 494 again. "Hey, I could do a twofer…"
"Simon?"
494 blinked, surprised at Rob's unfazed acceptance of the suggestion. "I'm good here," he replied distantly. He'd done the threesome thing on an away mission almost a year ago, and while the experience with the Kezmekistani courtesan and 511 had been enjoyable, he just wasn't big on sharing. Plus, Simon Lehane would never participate in anything that wasn't straight vanilla.
"Suit yourself, man." Rob clapped him on the shoulder and followed a beckoning V. "Don't wait up!" he called back.
494's gaze immediately went to the girl dancing across the room. She faltered for a moment when his eyes landed on her again and 494 grinned, moving forward instinctually to circle predatorily.
Max wasn't sure what to make of him. She kept moving absently, putting up with Logan's pawing with carefully restrained distaste. The other man wasn't a regular, though Berrisford was, and the suit and tie he was wearing, along with the stiff body language, indicated he didn't frequent this type of scene at all. But his eyes…
She couldn't tell the color from this distance, nor make out much behind his thin wire frames, but she could feel them. A lot of men looked at her with lust or desire, some with passion or obsession, and one or two with misguided love, but she'd never been looked at with such intensity before. Her glance slid toward the bottom of the entry stairs and her whole body paused to find he was no longer standing there, but she could still feel him watching her.
"Angel?" Logan had noticed her hesitation this time. "Are you all right?"
She forced herself to smile at the proprietary worry in his voice and cursed her body's feline cycle that had caused her to drag him into a back room last month. "I'm always all right, baby," she cooed, "I think I just need a little break, get some water…You don't mind, do you?" She ran a caressing hand through his hair. "I'll be right back."
"I'll be waiting," he breathed, staring at her longingly.
She practically blurred away from him and into the dressing room, she pressed her forehead to the glass of the fish tank and decided Logan would just have to wait until tomorrow for her. Max peered out, looking for Gus to tell him she was leaving when she caught sight of Mystery Man, his eyes tracking the room slowly, and changed her mind.
"Looking for me?"
The question was posed in a sultry drawl and 494 took a breath, turning to face her. Gorgeous. Her face was all big lips and liquid eyes and her body was lean lines and soft curves. Exquisite. "What would make you say that?" he challenged, letting himself smirk.
"Call it a hunch." She moved a little closer to him and 494 caught her scent, lush and tropical. "You were watching me."
He found he liked sassy. "You were watching me back."
"I'm Angel."
"Simon." He cocked his head to the side and gave her skimpy black outfit a once over. "I thought angels wore white."
"I'm not that kinda angel," she retorted, "You want a dance?"
"Heard you were untouchable." He glanced toward where Cale was sitting, looking lost without her presence. He turned his face back to her and found she had followed his look, face a mask of disdain. "Cale not doing it for you?"
She shrugged and met his eyes. Green, she noted with satisfaction, almost catlike. She moved a little closer, so that her body was flush against his and leaned up until her lips brushed his ear. "You heard wrong, Simon, I'm very touchable." And she let her hands wander down to his waistband before pulling away. Max was pleased to see the intensity was back into those pretty hazel eyes, instead of the contrived nonchalance.
494's gaze was riveted on her lips. "How much?"
"50 bucks for half an hour in the back." The offer slipped out and Max realized with surprise that she was looking forward to sex with a man in a non-pheromonally induced way.
494 debated. Simon Lehane would never have sex with a whore, even one as attractive as Angel, but Rob would be occupied for another 45 minutes and no one else here knew Simon Lehane. His hand slid into the pocket of his slacks and pulled out his wallet. Angel smiled and started walking away, her hand on his arm causing him to go along.
They stopped in front of a round man who looked at 494 with an unimpressed once over. "How long?" he asked Angel, his dismissal of 494 obvious.
She grabbed his wallet and pulled out a fifty, giving it to Gus. "We'll be in room six." Max gave Simon a playful smile and tugged him with her. Once the door was closed and locked behind them, Max looked up at him. "Don't you want to find out how touchable I am, Simon?"
He stared at her hard, at the high heels and fishnet stockings, at the way the black lingerie barely covered anything, but just enough to make your imagination wander. Her smile was impish and her eyes open in the quiet of this room and 494 walked toward her slowly, running a thumb over those lips and down her cheek…
Max closed her eyes at the gentle touch and bit her lip as she felt the strap on her top lower and his lips grazed over the spot. Most guys had at it immediately, and she was pleasantly surprised. Of course, part of her expected him to be inexperienced, what with the uncomfortable way he'd held himself on the floor. Her expectation was not to be met. It was obvious, from the way his mouth moved over her neck and the way his hand roamed her body, that he had done this before, and that he was very, very good at it.
A hand in her hair had her head tilting up and she had to turn her head to keep from kissing him. "No," she panted, arching into the hand on her breast, "No kissing on the lips." It was a rule of thumb in her profession. True kissing was too intimate.
"Okay," he agreed, nipping at her ear.
494 grasped her hip, hoisting her up and against him, her long legs wrapping around his waist as he walked them to the bed. It was over with a shedding of clothes, flying glasses, deft hands, hot mouths on sweaty skin, and hard thrusts that had her whimpering until they both cried out with release.
He pushed himself off of her with a grunt and her hands clasped at his shoulders in an involuntary protest. Max had been with a fair amount of guys since her first heat at thirteen, but what had just happened had been so primal it was almost as if she was in the midst of her cycle. She felt a kiss to her shoulder and she opened her eyes and smiled. Kendra would be so pleased that she had found a Mr. Multiples.
"So," she asked, watching him trail slender fingers down her torso, "Did you see Heaven?"
Green eyes regarded her with surprise and then he chuckled. "I probably got as close to it as a guy like me is gonna get."
"Ooh." She turned on her side to face him. "You don't think you'll get in?" she teased, "What could a mild-mannered…" she paused, "What is it you do?"
"Piano teacher." Assassin.
"What could a mild-mannered piano teacher do to be barred from the Great Beyond?"
494 propped himself up on his elbow and tangled a hand in her thick hair. "If I told you that, I'd have to kill you," he told her seriously. He smiled past the truth of that statement as Angel giggled.
"Suave, tiger, very James Bond of you."
He bit back the question about who James Bond was and focused on her smile. "I like to think of myself as more of a panther." He grinned as her smile widened and they lay in silence before he asked, because he couldn't help himself, "Do you usually talk this much to your clients?"
Max felt her smile dim. "I don't normally bring guys back here."
His eyes widened at the admittance. "Cale?" Her eyes slid away and she nodded. "Why?"
A shrug. "You could say it was the heat of the moment."
"Angel! Time's up!" The pounding on the door had them scrambling off the bed and shimmying into their clothes.
He grabbed her arm before she could open the door. "Will you be here tomorrow?" He swore at himself as the question left his lips, he was on a mission, he couldn't afford distractions.
"Yes." Damn it, she scolded herself, he's just a john, why was her heart beating so fast. "Bring enough for a couple hours." She turned the knob and suddenly felt herself turned around and pushed against the door, his lips on hers in a deep and drugging way.
494 pulled away, pleased with her dazed expression, "I like kissing." He twisted the knob away from her and opened the door in time to catch Rob coming out of a room two doors down.
"Simon!" the other man cried, reaching his friend, "You're still here!" His blue eyes slid to Max, who was still standing beside her patron in the doorway. Rob let out a whistle and pulled 494 into a noogie. "Didn't know you had it in you, you lucky dog!" 494 blushed because Simon Lehane would be embarrassed.
"Angel!" The big man was yelling at the girl still stuck to his side. "Cale's having a fit, get out there!"
Max muttered and pressed a kiss to Simon's cheek. "Tomorrow," she demanded in a murmur against his ear. She could feel his body shiver and he nodded in confirmation before she walked away, putting a sway in her hips just for him. She could still feel his eyes as she headed out onto the floor.
494 couldn't help himself from rushing through the next day; he brushed off Rob's congratulations and Rachel's eager invitation to a movie. After the youngest Berrisford's lesson, 494 reported to base and gave Sandoval a situation update. He was told to continue as before and that the mission would be coming to a close within the next week. 494 saluted and headed back to Seattle and Simon Lehane's apartment before leaving for the Blowfish tavern.
The big man in charge gave him a glare as he entered the back. "Angel?" he asked, passing over two hundred dollars.
He could tell when the man realized who he was because he huffed and gestured down the hallway. "She's waitin' in six again."
"Thanks," he said curtly, already on the move. 494 knocked once before letting himself in.
She turned to look at him, a genuine smile in place. "You came." No longer did he look like the horrified piano teacher of the night before. In the place of that Simon was one in dark jeans, black pullover, and gray leather jacket. The expression on his face was one of easy confidence. "Where are your glasses?" she asked, moving to meet him in the center of the room.
"I don't really need them," he told her conspiratorially, running his hands up and down her arms, "They just make me look more intelligent."
She laughed at his smirk and let him kiss her, all the while thinking she shouldn't be getting involved with him. "You're such a smart aleck," she mumbled against his lips.
"Yeah," he agreed and walked her backward until her knees hit the bed and she collapsed onto it, letting him follow her down as her hands slid under his jacket, tugging it off. "Angel…"
"Max," she corrected before she could think about it, "My name's Max."
"Max…" he breathed, mouth devouring hers.
"Oh," she gasped as he ripped open her bra, hands immediately moving to cup her breasts. "More, Simon, please…" Max could not believe this ordinary man had reduced her proud transgenic self to begging, but then his mouth was locked onto one sensitized nipple and she stopped thinking all together besides jumbled impressions of need and more and now and how much she needed to touch him.
494 growled at the lack of skin to skin and tore away to pull off his shirt, moving back to her soft body instantly. Her breathy little gasps of his assumed name had him torn between desire and disappointment and he wondered what his designation would sound like in the midst of her passion. But real people didn't have numbers, they had names, and his right now was Simon.
Her hands skimmed up his back as his lower body ground into hers and she arched her hips, frustrated with the feel of denim against her silk. She pushed, using just a bit of superhuman strength and he was on his back, green eyes staring up at her as she worked on his jeans until she could get a firm hold on his hardness. "Max," he hissed between his teeth, body bowing involuntarily at her little hands on his hot flesh.
She found herself underneath him once more with no idea how she'd gotten there, and felt his fingers sliding into her panties; felt his grin as he found her already wet and ready. "More," she pleaded, rubbing against his side as he withdrew hand.
"Yes," he agreed, before pouncing.
When it was over and they lay panting in each other's arms, Max snuggling closer like one of those heroines in her roommate's romance novels. "Time?"
"We got another hour," he told her, which would be plenty, especially with his quick recovery rate. "Maxie?" he asked, noticing her eyelids drooping.
"Hmm?" she responded, feeling sated. She turned so that she was spooned against him and luxuriated in the way their bodies fit together. Simon dropped a kiss to her shoulder and she smiled, feeling like the cat that ate the canary. "Kiss me again." He complied, lips moving over her shoulder and she leaned forward so that she was on her stomach, giving him access to more skin.
494, feeling very proud of himself at the sight of Max lying replete, pressed open-mouth kisses on her back from the base of her spine up. When he reached her neck, he nuzzled tenderly before moving the hair away to reveal the sensitive skin and felt his heart stop. "Interesting tattoo," he said, making his voice even, "Is it a barcode?"
He felt her tense before she compelled her body into relaxing. "Yeah," her tone was guarded, "I was in a gang when I was younger. We all got them." She was moving away from him to sit up, gathering her hair to cover the brand, not meeting his eyes.
"A gang," he echoed.
"Yeah." She leaned forward to initiate the kiss and 494 responded absently, mind racing. "Let's not waste our time talking, okay?"
"Okay," he granted her the change in topic and focused all his attentions on making her scream for him again.
They lay spent again and 494 ran over his options. He could capture her himself; a quick chokehold, tie her up while she was unconscious, call it in to his superior, and wait until back-up arrived, which would probably be sometime after she woke up to look at him with betrayal in those dark eyes. Or he could let her go, so she could continue on with her career as an exotic dancer, slipping into the back room with whatever Joe caught her in Heat, and he'd never see her after his mission ended.
Max watched in confusion as he sat up and swung his legs off the bed. "Simon?" He was getting dressed. "We still have twenty minutes."
"I know, I just…" He looked at her, at a loss for words. "I have to go. I forgot I promised Rob some back-up tonight. He has a blind date, needs a wingman…" he let the lie trail off.
"But…" she shook her head, "Okay. Will you come tomorrow?"
"Yes," he practically yelled, "You'll see me again." He shrugged into his jacket and gazed at her, looking small against the cotton sheets, expression still baffled. He'd see her again. He dragged her up against him in a fierce kiss before stalking out the door of room six. Max stared after him, fingers touching her lips, trying not to read desperation and grief in that last kiss.
"This line is only for emergencies, 494."
"I'm aware, sir," he replied, heart pounding as he walked away from the Blowfish tavern.
"Is there critical information on Berrisford to relay, soldier?"
"No, sir, I just came in contact with a '09 escapee, sir."
"A rogue?" There was a new touch of surprise and eagerness in his handler's voice.
"Yes, sir."
"Which one?"
494 closed his eyes, "X5-452, sir."
"We'll have an extraction team on site immediately. Parameters?"
"Sector Nine, the Blowfish Tavern, she gets off at two a.m." He said it without inflection.
"Good work 494, do you want in on the capture?"
He could practically see the accusation in her big brown eyes. "No sir, I need to focus on my original objective."
"Very well."
The phone clicked off and 494 stared at his cell phone before hurling it angrily against a concrete wall. "I'm sorry, Max."