Super Spy

You are an assassin. You don't use explosives, guns, or poison. You are a master of the butterfly effect.

Bryce Larkin had a reputation in the CIA. When his assassin training was called into action, he was never sent to simply kill someone. He was sent to destroy their organization before causing their enemies to kill them for him.

The challenges were that he could never be associated with them, wasn't to be seen, or interact with anyone connected to the operation. He was the mastermind puppeteer who operated from behind the scenes in a fashion that left no one realizing anything had even happened. Bryce was the embodiment of bad luck.

Going into the field for his latest mission, he seemed like any other man simply walking down the street and admiring the local scenery; just another tourist.

Taking his pictures, he gathered information of who, what, when, where, and why. Everything he would need to make his plans work.

With the information collected, he simply needed to put everything into motion. An action so simple, no one would ever guess it was an assassination. All he did was to… well, that would be telling. Something he never did.

He wouldn't be so intimidating or scary if his methods were known, and no one needs an assassin who has lost his touch.

Instead, the mission went into his file as another success. Even his mission reports made the bosses wondered how he managed to make something so innocent, so harmless-seeming, cause so much destruction.

To those not cleared for the information, the story was a black line blocking words, or conspiracy theories detailing possible reasons for why such a strong criminal empire could crumble so easily, in so little time.

Bryce Larkin wasn't just an assassin; he was a master of the butterfly effect.

You have come so close to dying so many times that you've met Death on numerous occasions.

So much so, that you've made quite a close relationship with Death.

It didn't take many years in the field before Bryce had experienced Death… a lot. He had been shot, stabbed, poisoned, nearly blown up, tortured, and so on. There weren't many means of dying that he hadn't nearly experienced at some point or another.

After everything he had been through, he was no longer afraid. Death was like an old friend, a shadow he would feel walking with him when he was going on a particularly dangerous mission.

So it was no surprise when he felt the familiar feeling of his friend Death walking along beside him as he headed to his latest rendezvous point. Would he die, would he have to kill, or perhaps a combination of both?

Asking the shadows, he knew he wasn't going to get an answer. Death might be a friend, a presence that accompanied him into particularly dangerous situations, but Death never talked to him. He was a silent presence that accompanied him through his work.

Ignoring the lack of response, he kept walking to the building taking every precaution possible.

Sitting above them in the upper rafters, he watched the representatives of the mob as they meandered around the building waiting for him. There was something off to their behavior. Then it hit him, they knew he was a spook.

Moving back around to the entrance, he pretended to arrive and acted naïve to his blown cover.

"Sorry, I'm late boys, ran into an old friend along the way." He greeted them cheerily without describing who that friend was.

"Did your friend accompany you, or did you come alone as agreed upon?" One of the goons asked.

"Oh, my friend is always with me in dangerous situations such as this. I can't exactly leave him behind." Bryce smirked at their expressions as they looked around for someone. "You won't see him, he isn't one for leaving the shadows." Then he smiled as their focuses were directed towards every shadow big enough to hide a man.

Pulling his gun to point it into Bryce's face, the leader wasn't pleased. "We agreed you would come alone. I think I should kill you and be done with this before anything else goes sideways."

"Not like you didn't intend to do so anyway? I've known since before I arrived, but listening to your conversation from above confirmed it." Bryce dropped the pretense of pleasantness.

Cocking the gun, the goon prepared to shoot. "How did you know before you arrived, did your friend tell you?"

"My friend always shows up when situations like this are about to happen. His presence is a dead giveaway." Bryce quirked his eyebrow and smirked at his private joke.

"Who is your friend?" The man was getting nervous. He could sense that something bad was about to happen. Perhaps his own sense of Death's presence had kicked in?

"Death." Bryce hissed as he ducked away from the gun and moved forward to attack the leader.

Taking out the main opponent made the rest of them unorganized and easier to take on. Grabbing the item they were fighting over, he took off running for cover.

Once he dove behind some crates, he was able to take a more proactive stance. Instead of blindly firing in the general direction of the opponents, he began picking them off based on who was visible, firing at him, and where they stood in the line of leadership.

Hearing them scatter, he understood the Russian they jabbered at each other. They were going to blow the place and him with it… or at least, that was their plan.

Knowing that he needed to move, Bryce started to run for the nearest exit. Reaching the window, he dove below it as the area was peppered with gunfire.

So, that was how they wanted to play, was it. Bryce knew then that it was a mixture of both. He had killed some of theirs, and they were determined to kill him.

Determined to at least give them a good battle, Bryce wasn't going to go down easy, indeed, if he even went down at all. He wasn't reputed as a super spy for nothing.

Rolling away from the opening, he began climbing to a higher level carrying all the valuable items with him. He had both the money and the information. Not a bad catch for an operation nearly going sideways. However, he still needed to make it out alive before it would ultimately matter.

Reaching the roof level, he saw that the building extended out further into two directions. He was standing on top of the main building and surveying the layout of the yard around. Based on the lack of gunfire, they hadn't seen him yet, but the rumbles building up from below meant the smaller explosions were starting. If he didn't move, the whole place would go and take him with it.

Not looking back, he leaped from the roof he was on down to the level below. Then he started running like his life depended on it because it did.

Putting every ounce of his strength and energy into the effort, he raced across the rooftop making it a fair distance before it was even noticed that he had left the main portion of the building.

Ducking and weaving, he managed to dodge most of their bullets, but one hit him in the shoulder and sent him flying off of the ridge. Sliding down the metal coverings, he tried to grasp at anything with his good arm but came up with nothing but smooth metal. Falling off the edge, he managed to catch the end of the roof and slow down his descent, but he still plunged two stories towards the ground.

Dropping into a ball, he hit the ground hard and jarred his injury, but was able to roll enough to prevent any serious damage.

Pulling out his gun, he fired off rounds at the lead mobsters who were running the fastest towards him. His shots stopped two of them, but three more were still approaching quickly.

Reaching the relative safety of the large shipping containers, he knew he stood a chance, but only if he could lose his tails in the maze.

Twisting and turning, he ran quickly and quietly until he reached the edge of the yard. Then after making a mad dash, he slipped through his hole in the fence to the other side. He raced over the slight ridge in the ground and practically flew down the other side as he jumped off of it.

Getting into his car, he switched into gear and raced off into the night. Speeding as fast as the car could go, he reached a more populated area of the city before switching tactics. Slowing down to match the rest of the traffic, he meandered his way around for a while to ensure he didn't have any tails.

Ditching his car in a parking garage, he switched to his backup and left by another exit before repeating his means of losing a tail.

Once he was sure it was clear, he reported to his bosses for treatment and post operation debriefing.

The shadow of his friend Death had left him, but he knew it wouldn't be their last meeting. He was a spy, and he faced Death every day so they had developed a close relationship.

I'm close to very few people but those few people mean everything to me.

Bryce Larkin was a spy, and a good one, which meant that he didn't have ties. To the world there was no one who could be used against him, nowhere he would rather be than where he was, and nothing that could hurt him. But the world was wrong.

He had two places he liked to be.

California had a curly-haired nerd, someone who smiled and meant it, who gave puppy dog betrayed eyes instead of trying to shoot when he was hurt. Chuck was his best friend since his school days, and there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for him.

In college, he had seen the government going after his friend so he had stepped in to take his place. That led to him allegedly betraying him, which was a double-edged sword. Chuck was safe, but he had lost his best friend.

Still, despite the appearance of betrayal on the surface, he hoped for his friend, imagined him landing on his feet somehow and putting a new life together. Sure, it wouldn't be the game design company they had once dreamed of building together, but it wouldn't be the darkness of always looking over his shoulder wary of the many traitors putting a knife through his back, the battle of life and death that permeated the struggle of supremacy between the government and their enemies. Chuck had his family, his other best friend, his life, and the freedom to choose what he did with that. And it was the best Bryce could do for him.

Then there was the FBI agent that chased one of his aliases. Even he mattered because he was smart, honest, and an honorable agent who did his best to ensure justice had a fair chance.

Agent Peter Burke was the brilliant man who kept Neal Caffrey on his toes and dancing just out of reach. It was a game to Bryce, a way to interact with someone who personified why he fought the battle, who reminded him of the naïve boy who signed a contract with the CIA in order to make a difference. He was the link to the young man who had once trained to be a cop before his world crumbled into dust like a house of cards built on a foundation of lies.

Peter mattered because he was another reminder of the humanity that was still somewhere inside of Bryce.

These were the men that could be used against Bryce Larkin, and he would do anything to protect them.

To protect Chuck, he had allegedly betrayed him and been accused of stealing his girlfriend, but Bryce had played along with all of it, even if he didn't understand why Jill was ditching her boyfriend because he knew it pushed Chuck away and protected him. For Peter, he kept the persona of the annoying criminal he was working so hard to catch. He didn't allow the agent to surface or be traced to the alias. Otherwise, Peter would be in danger every time someone wanted something of Bryce. And he couldn't have that.

So, instead, he kept his friendship secret even from his friends. They knew he had played a role in their lives, but neither knew the extent of how much he valued them, or how far he was willing to go to protect them. Because if they knew, then the world might find out, and if the world knew, then it was likely that his enemies would learn, and that would put them into danger.

If you asked anyone, Bryce Larkin was a cold-hearted and focused agent who cared for no one and only worked to get the job done. Bryce liked it that way because no one suspected that he was close to anyone, and no one knew that those few meant everything to him.

Thank you, everyone, for reading, following, choosing to favorite, leaving kudos, and reviewing/commenting :D

For those who are interested, I've been working on my Pinterest pages so you can see where this series comes from. The pins for this story have been hunted down (sneak peeks on the next two weeks ;) and my monster of secret collections is down to triple digits while the rest is now public viewable which is progress ;)