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Mirage

Mirage didn’t know where he was. He’d been blindfolded while transported by vehicle.

He was told the illicit Ravens agency operated on the upper floors of an architecture firm’s skyscraper in McClean, Virginia…and nothing else.

No one had called him Matthew or Dr. Adams Jr. since he’d arrived.

When he walked inside and down the long, cold corridor, he was greeted by two men in white lab coats who looked him up and down as if he were a bachelor for auctioning.

“Right this way, Mirage.”

It’d been his name since Mr. Fancy Suit described his disappearance.

He had a fucking code name.

He liked it.

Being called by his father’s name was too much and kept him lingering in a past he was looking forward to forgetting.

His mother would be disappointed in his new chosen profession, but he’d done what he had to for his sanity and peace of mind.

Mirage was given an apartment on one of the upper floors with a view fitting of the CEO of a billion-dollar corporation.

For two weeks, he’d been free to roam the facility and utilize rooms and floors he’d been told were only accessible by the Browns and warned of the restricted areas designated to the director and the Blacks.

On the third week from the date he arrived, his transformation began.

Intense was the word that came to mind after the first injections in his arms, legs, neck, and spine, but even that word felt like a gross understatement.

The effects of the concoction were instant. Every day for several weeks, he was tested cognitively and physically.

And each day, the scores increased exponentially. His mind operated on a level he didn’t know possible.

He wasn’t allowed in certain areas of the lab, and only the scientists with scannable badges were permitted in the area where the serum was made.

The doctor in him was curious.

And he was certain it wouldn’t be long before he figured out a way into that lab and learned the elements of this miraculous serum.

Grace

Grace was given three different tests a week to evaluate his intelligence and cognitive abilities before he was put through a series of rigorous physical and metabolic training sessions.

Each time was easier, and every score was higher than the last.

Grace sat alone in a room designated as a silent space, playing a virtual game of chess with a computer program designed by professors at one of the highest-ranked computer tech universities in the country.

It was said to be unbeatable.

Grace was on his seventh round of beating it tonight and was beginning to get bored.

Checkmate.

He sat back in the chair and rolled his eyes, needing more of a challenge.

It was past midnight, and he should’ve been in his apartment resting, but his latest injections must’ve contained immeasurable amounts of caffeine or something because he was having a harder time shutting down after his daily training.

Grace powered off the computer and killed the lights. It was pitch-dark, but he could still see.

The room was supposed to be soundproof, and no one was permitted to be in the Browns’ restricted area, but Grace could hear…feel…that someone was nearby.

The hall was dark, with not even an exit sign to illuminate the long corridor.

He stood motionless behind the door and stared out of the floor-to-ceiling glass wall.

The brown hood of his lightweight tunic—that he was required to wear at all times—rested across the bridge of his nose, but it didn’t hinder his visibility. With his enhancements, he was able to see no matter how low his hood was.

With each second that passed, his pulse quickened, and it was the most stimulation he’d had in months.

Grace’s heart was almost in his throat when the silhouette of another hooded man walked by, then stopped a couple of feet past the door he stood behind as if he could feel Grace too.

The other man’s breaths were barely audible. Now, they increased to the point that Grace could hear not only his breaths but the other man’s heartbeat through the steel door.

“I can hear you too,” the stranger whispered before he proceeded down the hall and disappeared through a door marked Restricted Personnel Only .

Who the fuck was that?