Peter Fenwick knew that he was going to be in deep, deep trouble when he
got back home. He'd betrayed his country, a good friend and an innocent
girl, all to make money from a black market deal. He'd sold the sensor to a
bidder from Iraq to get money for his family. Artis didn't know where the
sensor was. He thought that Sydney had managed to hide it somewhere.
Peter was still waiting in Artis's office. On the desk before him, there was a large silver gun, with ammo next to it. He didn't know who it belonged to, but was willing to bet that it was Artis's.
Even from the office, which was quite a distance away from the main room, he could hear sounds of a fight. He shivered with disgust. He'd never liked fighting and had only joined the CIA to get revenge against the terrorist group that had caused his parents death while they where on vacation in Iceland.
Unfortunately, he had a natural aptitude for fighting that the CIA had recognised. They'd sent him out into the field from almost day one. That had been almost ten years ago. He was sick of fighting a war he didn't believe in anymore, but he could only see one way out.
He'd been pressured and blackmailed into helping with Sydney's kidnapping, but at heart, he hadn't wanted to hurt her. He didn't want to hurt anyone. All he'd wanted was payback for his family. Instead, he'd been forced to kill by the people who where supposed to save lives.
He couldn't do it any more, couldn't hurt anymore innocent people like he'd hurt Sydney. He was slowly going mad with the pressures that he faced every day. The gun on the table spoke to him. It offered him an easy way out. He was reaching for it when the door to the office flew open. He yanked his hand back like he'd been burned.
A guard who Peter recognised strode into the room. They had strongly disliked each other from their very first meeting, where Peter had pointed out a flaw in the guard's plan to steal the sensor.
"YOU." He shouted, pointing at Peter. "OUT, NOW!"
Peter got up and left the room so fast that he was tripping over his own feet. He could here a commotion outside the doors and opened them a crack to look through. What he saw shocked him deeply. He closed the door silently as walked quickly away.
Peter was still waiting in Artis's office. On the desk before him, there was a large silver gun, with ammo next to it. He didn't know who it belonged to, but was willing to bet that it was Artis's.
Even from the office, which was quite a distance away from the main room, he could hear sounds of a fight. He shivered with disgust. He'd never liked fighting and had only joined the CIA to get revenge against the terrorist group that had caused his parents death while they where on vacation in Iceland.
Unfortunately, he had a natural aptitude for fighting that the CIA had recognised. They'd sent him out into the field from almost day one. That had been almost ten years ago. He was sick of fighting a war he didn't believe in anymore, but he could only see one way out.
He'd been pressured and blackmailed into helping with Sydney's kidnapping, but at heart, he hadn't wanted to hurt her. He didn't want to hurt anyone. All he'd wanted was payback for his family. Instead, he'd been forced to kill by the people who where supposed to save lives.
He couldn't do it any more, couldn't hurt anymore innocent people like he'd hurt Sydney. He was slowly going mad with the pressures that he faced every day. The gun on the table spoke to him. It offered him an easy way out. He was reaching for it when the door to the office flew open. He yanked his hand back like he'd been burned.
A guard who Peter recognised strode into the room. They had strongly disliked each other from their very first meeting, where Peter had pointed out a flaw in the guard's plan to steal the sensor.
"YOU." He shouted, pointing at Peter. "OUT, NOW!"
Peter got up and left the room so fast that he was tripping over his own feet. He could here a commotion outside the doors and opened them a crack to look through. What he saw shocked him deeply. He closed the door silently as walked quickly away.