So I know said that it would a few days before I posted again, but I was late with the last chapter due to technological difficulties so I thought this would help make up for it.

Comments are welcome. I really just want to improve my writing.

Thanks again, to everyone whose read, reviewed, favourited, or followed :)

Birkhoff POV:

Birkhoff's body tensed. The outcome of the mission depended on his next move. Taking a deep breath, he contemplated all the possible scenarios that could occur. Finally settling on an approach, he threw a grenade to his left, hoping it would cause his enemy to miss his sudden dash to the right, where there was a hidden entrance waiting for him. He knew the layout of this place like the back of his hand. Throwing another grenade far off into the distance, he covered up the sound of his shoulder hitting the door and breaking it open.

Eat that, bitch! Birkhoff thought, walking into the house. His enemy was going to be upstairs, he could feel it in his bones.

Silently making his way up the stairs, his glock .45 proceeding him, he made to the landing. He had three doors to chose from. He would bet his entire chip collection, that the guy was behind the middle door at the very end of the hall.

He so owned this mission.

Birkhoff crept down the hall, his entire being solely focused on the door in front of him. Ten steps, five...

Four...

Three...

Two...

One...

"Hey, computer boy."

Birkhoff leapt up from his chair, his X-Box controller raised above his head, ready to bash in the skull of whomever had dared sneak up on him and ruin his game. Then he saw Owen leaning against the desk, directly behind him and his arm instantly dropped. He might be pissed about his game, but he already knew who would win in a fight between the two of them. Even if the guy looked like he hadn't slept in two days.

Birkhoff made a mental note to start hitting a gym.

'Ha, like that was going to happen,' his own thoughts couldn't even take him seriously.

"I need you to do something for me," Owen continued, as if he hadn't just game-blocked Birkhoff.

"Dude, what the hell? I was the middle of a crucial mission." Birkhoff might know who'd win in a fight, but that wouldn't stop him from complaining.

"I can see it was real life or death stuff," Owen said, nodding towards the screen with his head, "or in your case, imminent death."

Birkhoff spun round. Sure enough, his character was ten seconds away from getting killed. Crap, crap, crap. He forgot to pause. He started crazily pounding buttons and narrowly avoided getting his head blown off. He ran for cover and quickly logged out of the game network. He sighed in relief and turned back to Owen.

"Well, if you plan and sneaking up on me again, could you at least give me some warning. I know you spies are made to be stealthy and all, but you could at least blink loudly or something."

Owen raised his eyebrow and blinked at Birkhoff. If Birkhoff didn't know any better, he would say that Owen was mocking him.

"Typical alpha male behaviour," Birkhoff grumbled to himself, rolling his eyes and slumping back into his chair. "I'd like to see them take a crack at Pentagon Security System or even the CIA or the FBI."

"Why are you playing that anyway? Isn't the life we lead enough?" Owen asked, interrupting Birkhoff's ramblings.

Birkhoff knew exactly why he was playing video games. He needed something to take his mind off Sonya. He'd been obsessing for days and every idea he could come up circled back to telling Micky and Nikki the truth. He hated not being able to be honest with his friends. So he threw on a game and absorbed himself in its virtual world. He had hoped that once he started living in the real world again, he'd have a fresh idea of what to do. Alas, it was not meant to be this time.

"Well you know what they say, those who can't do, play video games," he finally replied, glibly. it wasn't exactly the right answer, but Birkhoff was not about to explain himself to a former cleaner.

It was Owen's turn to roll his eyes.

"So, what brings you to my lair?" Birkhoff asked, bringing them both back to the reason Owen was here.

Owen suddenly straightened and tiredly ran a hand through his hair. He seem agitated. Birkhoff grew intrigued, despite himself. What was it that had Cleaner boy so worked up?

"Look, Birkhoff," Owen began, "you have to understand that this can go no further. It has to stay between the two of us."

'Oh, great, more secrets,' Birkhoff was getting sick of secrets, but he continued to listen.

"First, where are Nikita and Michael?"

"They are out in the field since he day before yesterday," Birkhoff answered, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "They're due back some time tomorrow."

"Well, that explains why Nikita hasn't come looking for her yet," muttered Owen, under his breath.

"Wait. Who hasn't she gone looking for?" Birkhoff tried asking, but Owen ignored him and continued talking.

"I wouldn't even be telling you this, if I had another way of getting her out of Division without being seen, but I don't." He took a deep breath, seemingly fortifying himself for whatever he was about to say.

Birkhoff took one too, Owen's agitation rubbing off on him.

"It's Alex."