There was a serene sky outside the sleek, stainless-clad windows, which beheld a view of a poor neighborhood with a river winding through it. Elevated several stories from the ground, the office itself was posh. Several steel file cabinets set in one corner, adorned with silver edging. The floor was a cool, off-white marble tile with black and white veins running through. A skinny, pale man in a light gray suit sat in a plush, white leather chair, seemingly preoccupied with his silver computer monitor and keyboard, and not the burlesque, well-built man in the chair across the modern style desk. He wore a darker suit, sitting rigidly in his chair and running his eyes across the room constantly, as if scanning for hazards.
"Let's run over the mission again, Agent Blake," said the pale man. "Your job is to plant the nuke in the southern Syrian town, and avoid getting caught before then. You'll have all the resources and men you need."
"I don't like this, Agent Barnes. Innocent people are going to die, just to scathe ISIL," said Blake worriedly.
"I don't care if you have a problem with it. We both know why you're actually here." He turned the sleek computer monitor so Blake could see his own file. There was red lettering to one side. Blake's expression didn't change, but his face paled slightly under his short beard as he eyed Barnes.
"If you don't, someone else will. But you're the best man for the job. So, if you don't..." Barnes raised his eyebrow and planted his leather dress shoes on the desk, while turning the monitor back toward himself.
Blake hesitated further, jaw working with no sound emerging. His hands clenched his suit, wrinkling the corner. Perspiration beaded around his forehead. Finally,
"I'll do it."
Agent Barnes smiled, his skinny finger lightly tapping "delete" on the keyboard.
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