Nightmares were a way of life for Riley, since long before he’d even become Riley Burke. Dealing with night terrors, or altered realities wasn’t too difficult within the confines of his own home in the woods, with only his dog to witness his unusual behavior. Yet he was no longer in the cabin –– no longer in the safety of his own space. On the run with JJ, Riley prayed he wouldn’t have another flashback –– not around her. Thus far, everything had been smooth ; as smooth as could be when the government was hunting you down. He’d been able to keep it together –– - until a simple bar fight broke the reality in his mind.
Honestly, he didn’t know who he was kidding. Witnessing and taking part in wartime atrocities was more than enough to rot even the most stalwart of minds –– but that was only the beginning for him. The training for Project Onyx worked hard to completely break everything in him down and build him back up as some form of brainwashing. It was only a matter of time before something like this would have happened –– -
The sound of a glass bottle breaking shook him from his conversation with JJ, pulling his immediate focus as though it were a gun shot. Then there were shouts and the scuffing of chairs and tables being pushed aside. He watched the men square off intently, not hearing a sound except for the dull roar of the fight as it escalated. He stood slowly, walking forward, and that was when one of the fighter’s buddies caught sight of him. The stranger threw a punch but it was caught instantly.
Gone was Riley’s usual laid back demeanor. He no longer moved as himself, or a human at all. He subdued the man into an arm bar lock, looking far more like a finely tuned machine than anything else. A woman screamed at him and jumped on his back to try to get him to release her boyfriend. In one quick twist, the sound of a loud pop and the subsequent man’s screaming let them know that the shoulder was dislocated. The woman instantly backed away, tears coming down her cheeks. She’d got in a few good scratches to his face, but nothing more.
No longer interested in the original fight, the rest of the small gang jumped in, but it wasn’t long before Riley pulled the gun from the waistband of his jeans and ordered them all onto their knees. “We do not hesitate.” He heard the words from a past life echoed in his head. ❝ I SAID GET DOWN ! ❞ he ordered again, staring back into the eyes of the fearful men, ignoring the screams of the still hysterical woman in the corner.
Wide blue eyes took in his surroundings, shimmering like sapphires in the neon beer advertisements that hung on the wall. There was a very slight shake to him as his muscles coiled, ready to strike in any moment. His hands, however, were as still as stone –– just as they were trained to be. No longer was he Riley, or even Owen Jones ; he was The Operative, seeing the white, sterile walls of the training facility. The slight smell of artificially sweet lemon hung in the air –– a failing attempt to mask the pervading metallic scent of spilled blood.
“We do not hesitate.” He couldn’t see the face, but he could hear the voice of his director, urging him into the final stage of his training. “We do not––” ❝ We do not hesitate. ❞ With a simple move of his thumb, he cocked the gun, ready to prove his worth.
