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Mirage

The morning mist hung low over the secluded training grounds.

He and Grace ended up chest-to-back, weapons poised, eyes cast downward but scanning every inch of space around them.

“Got three approaching east, fifty yards.” Spectre’s words were crisp and sharp.

Grace pivoted, his every step deliberate and calculated. He took both shots, then the third without looking.

The sharp crack of gunfire reverberated through the air and into Mirage’s sternum.

The battle program the geeks had created hurled hologram hostiles at them, as many as five at a time, which flickered and disappeared in a haze of light with each successful hit.

“Four o’clock, beyond the brush, you got one closing in at thirty feet.”

Mirage threw five knives at once over Grace’s shoulder, each hologram showing the blades embedding center mass before disappearing behind Grace’s back so fast he was barely seen.

“They’re gonna try to trick us now…stay sharp.”

Mirage was already getting used to Spectre’s voice.

The suits watching must’ve expected Grace to do most of the eliminating, assuming he’d use his firearms as the quickest means of killing. But their surprise showed as they tried to keep up with the blades Mirage seemed to produce out of thin air.

By midday, Grace and Mirage were feeding off each other’s energy, reacting to one another’s body language.

Somehow, Mirage knew where Grace needed him to be and vice versa.

They didn’t communicate verbally. During the six and a half hours they ran simulations, neither uttered a word.

None were needed.

Mirage could understand Grace by listening to the cadence of his heartbeat and watching the muscles flexing in his back and the pulsing in his temple.

The hours passed in a blur of intense physical exertion and mental discipline, pushing their bodies and minds to the max.

The three of them together were fucking impressive.

Their handler’s unwavering certainty and quick directions were key to their victory.

At the end of the day, as the sun dipped behind the horizon, Spectre had been right.

A silent understanding had formed between them, a bond forged in the lines of danger.

There was not only trust but also respect between the three men.