Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 64938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“No, you let me fuckin’ explain.” Mirage inched in until they were close enough to kiss, his voice low, speaking his anger through clenched teeth. “If you ever leave me pinned to the motherfuckin’ wall, then turn away from me like that again, Grace, I’ll stab you in your goddamn back with the first blade I draw.”
Mirage left his partner standing there, rejected. The same way he’d done him.
Grace
“All right, guys, let’s run it one more time, then we’ll call it a day,” Spectre said from the observation booth. “You’re looking flawless out there. I like the new formation, but let’s make it tighter, all right?”
During their short intermission, Grace was sweating bullets, and Mirage was gulping water as if he’d just walked twenty miles through the Mojave Desert.
Spectre was showing them no mercy.
Training wasn’t usually this frustrating, but after last night and their spat this morning, Grace was desperate for some alone time with Mirage to clear the air.
He’d acted so out of character last night that he’d even scared himself. And this morning, he’d never seen Mirage so upset.
Grace was going to promise to never disappoint him like that again.
I also don’t want a fuckin’ knife in my back.
All he needed was the chance to explain that, yes, he was an asshole for taking off without allowing Mirage a chance to say anything, but he wanted to rectify that.
He tried multiple times to get Mirage’s attention, to give him an expression only he could interpret. But he refused to make eye contact as they went through simulation after simulation.
Grace put his Berettas back into his holster while Mirage moved in close behind him.
He turned and tried to catch his gaze.
“Don’t,” his partner ground out. “Stay focused so we can finish this shit.”
“Everything all right, fellas?” Spectre asked.
Their ear devices were on, so even the slightest whisper could be heard in the booth.
“We’re fine. Start the damn program, Spec,” Mirage gritted out.
Spectre frowned but set up a different code in the sophisticated virtual reality world.
Once they were in position, Grace gave the booth a nod to indicate they were ready.
The room morphed into a realistic maze of concrete buildings and alleys.
The holograms of criminals came at them from around every corner.
Adrenaline pumped in Grace’s blood, and the energy around him and Mirage sizzled like high voltage as they prepared to battle.
The first attacker was a woman clad in black leather with a lush figure and piercing blue eyes.
She was armed with a set of knives and moved with the swiftness of a puma.
Mirage hurled two daggers under Grace’s left arm through the virtual void, piercing her thighs.
The hologram flashed bright yellow, alerting them that the wounds had been enough to take her out of the fight but weren’t fatal.
Men emerged from behind an abandoned city bus, and Grace fired three shots, the sounds like thunderclaps in the enclosed arena.
Then, the onslaught became more intense.
Virtual bullets whizzed past them as they zigzagged through the hail of gunfire.
He and Mirage did a coordinated warrior dance, showing the mastery of their connection.
Mirage raged in Grace’s shadow, reading and reacting to his body language as he controlled the front line.
Spectre increased the level of force, and Grace knew why.
Since their threat level had increased, he and Mirage would be fighting battles far deadlier than before, and their handler wanted them ready.
Criminals charged from all sides.
The system was so high-tech Grace could see the sweat on the brow and the murderous intent in the eyes of the holograms.
He and Mirage stayed attached, moving in perfect synchronicity and stealth as they disposed of their enemies with calculated exactness.
Red lights flashed around them, confirming the countless deaths left in their wake.
Mirage
The training continued for another hour as Spectre sent wave after wave of increasingly difficult opponents. But he and Grace never faltered.
Once the program reached its climax, they stood in a vast field, surrounded by a small army of hostiles.
The air was redolent with the odor of gunpowder, and the ground was littered with bullet shells and bodies of the fallen.
Mirage and Grace stood chest-to-back, their weapons aimed and ready.
Spectre sent all the holographs charging at once, the numbers damn near overwhelming.
They fought with everything they had. Grace was firing overhead and around Mirage’s back so fast that his arms were a blur as his bullets tore through virtual flesh.
Mirage hated to admit it, but Grace’s merciless brutality was turning him the fuck on.
By the time the last round came to an end, the computer showed that Grace had been grazed in the shoulder by a bullet, but it didn’t affect his mindset or agility, and Mirage had taken a few kicks and punches to his back as he defended his partner from behind.
The model had been a grueling test and given valuable insight into what lay ahead.