Liam locked his car and strode toward the lift, shoving his code-keys in his pocket. A lift was already waiting on the sublevel, and he stepped inside, pressing his palm to the control panel so the AI could read his print.
“Command level,” he said.
The lift rose in a smooth motion on his order, the quickness of the ascent showing in the faint pop in his ears. Liam watched the numbers of the floor levels flicker over the screen until the lift came to a stopon Level Forty-Three. The door slid open and Liam entered what could only be called controlled chaos.
The window-walls surrounding this particular level were bulletproof, impossible to see in from the outside, though everyone working could see out. Half of the floor that overlooked the Thames was dedicated to dozens of terminals, manned by agents monitoring active field teams and solo agents on missions. Liam paused for a moment, taking it all in. Then he shook his head and continued on his way toward the offices where the command staff was located on the other half of the floor.
Liam made his way to the conference room where the Royal Legion always took their briefings. He was unsurprised to find the rest of his team already there. Royal Naval Captain Samaira Bhasin looked away from the holoscreen and the report she was reviewing to offer him a welcoming smile.
“How was the wedding?” Samaira asked.
“Good. Did you lot stay out of trouble?” Liam replied.
Samaira shrugged one shoulder. “Oh, you know. Only a couple of explosions here and there.”
“Sounds like I missed all the fun.”
Samaira’s smile dimmed into something a little more apologetic. Liam tried not to take out his annoyance on his co-captain, but she knew how he felt. It was impossible for her not to. She had been taking up leadership duties more and more over the past year in the face of his absence, always with a professional grace he couldn’t ever be angry about.
They had co-led the Royal Legion for over half a decade, and Liam missed fighting by her side more than he was willing to admit. Samaira was a close friend and confidant, the South Asian officer someone whom Liam admired considerably. Liam knew full captaincy would go to her if—when—he ever stepped aside.
Liam wouldn’t begrudge her the authority or the rank whenever that decision was made. Out of everyone who would’ve stepped into his position, he trusted Samaira the most. Liam would be highly displeased if the brass didn’t give it to her.
“Do you think they’ll allow you on the field this time?” Tariq Hameed asked. Like Liam, he was dressed in a service uniform, the dark blue shirt pulled tight across his broad shoulders.
Liam took a seat beside Samaira, eyeing the older man from across the table. “I can only hope so.”
Tariq made a face that expressed exactly how Liam felt. “We keep saying we need you and your power. You’re our heavy hitter, mate.”
“I know.”
“Since this briefing will be covering the Reborn IRA, maybe we’ll finally get you back in the field. They haven’t been sighted on the Continent in months,” Abigail Johnson said as she propped her chin on her hand, blinking her large brown eyes at them.
Abigail was their youngest member at twenty-four. Born to a poor family on a council estate in the East End of Greater London, she’d come to the UMG after being at the wrong place at the wrong time when a Splice bomb had gone off. She’d been the only survivor, and despite her initial misgivings of working for a government she didn’t trust, her anger toward those who had initiated the attack overrode any hesitation she might’ve had.
Her superhuman speed ability was useful in the field, as was Tariq’s ability to control the iron in blood to the point he could kill a man and make it look like an accident. Paired with Samaira’s hydrokinesis and Liam’s electrokinesis, they had an overabundance of offensive abilities. That’s where Glenn MacNair’s ability to create force fields was useful. He wasn’t a telekinetic—he couldn’t move things with his mind—but his ability to shield his teammates with invisible, solid energy had saved their lives more times than Liam could count.
“I’ll do my best to argue my case,” Liam replied.
Samaira pushed a mug of tea across the table to him. “You won’t be the only one.”
He knew she had his six, something he’d always been grateful for. Liam grabbed the mug and raised it to her in a silent toast of thanks. He took a quick sip before setting it aside so he could log in to his terminal.
Data spread away from his fingertips where they rested against the embedded computer. Liam accessed the same report the rest of his team was reviewing, managing to get through the first page before the door slid open and Norris Chapman, Chief of the United Metahuman Guardians, stepped inside, followed by a familiar blond-haired figure who made Liam want to freeze in his seat.
MI6 Agent Oliver Archer met Liam’s gaze over Chapman’s shoulder with a blank expression. Outwardly, Liam didn’t react, but he couldn’t stop the spike in his heartbeat that lasted for a couple of seconds.
Oliver had been a liaison between MI6 and the UMG over the last six months or so as the two agencies reluctantly joined forces in pursuit of a common enemy. They’d been partnered on the botched mission to Fortuna-sur-mer back in December, and things could’ve gone better. They’d unintentionally interrupted Alexei and Sean Dvorkin’s honeymoon, drawing the MDF into the ultimately failed attempt to arrest the United States’ defected and wanted former CIA Deputy Director Carter Bennett.
The owners of the luxury resort hadn’t been pleased with the results of that mission. Considering the island had ended up with a hole blown through its biodome, Liam could understand why they’d lodged a complaint with the British government. Relations with France had been a bit fraught afterward, but diplomatic efforts had helped smooth over any lingering annoyances.
In the end, Liam and the MI6 team had come away with enough intelligence to pinpoint a new search avenue in their quest to take down the black-market Splice ring he had a feeling would never be completely eradicated. Not in his lifetime, at least.
“So glad to see everyone is on time for once,” Chapman said in greeting as he took a seat at the head of the table. He set the tablet he carried down, syncing it to the embedded computer. A few more files opened in Liam’s terminal, and he sorted them with the touch of a finger.
“If there had been a sale at my favorite store, I might’ve been late,” Abigail said. Her penchant for shopping and love of expensive things was well-known within the team.
“It’s a good thing you weren’t. We have a lot to get through this morning.” Chapman gestured at Oliver as the agent took a seat. “I know you’re all familiar with Agent Archer. We’ll be running a new mission with MI6. He’s on secondment with the Royal Legion specifically.”
