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“I warned you.” They sobbed as they looked at the agents who came to their aid, clearly watching in horror as tears in their eyes blurred their vision. “I told you not to come after me. But why don’t you listen?!” They roared as they watched as the sirens blared in the background.
Flashes of red and blue erupted in the background, causing panic among the agents. The pool of blood as one of the Zoraxis operatives slowly felt faint was growing more and more. Agent Phoenix (?) was pressing down on the wound as they glared at the agents looking on in fear.
“You’re lucky I still kept some semblance of my morals.” They practically hissed at the agents before a cruel smile formed on their face. “But you’re not going to get away scott-free.”
The warning was enough to cause the agents to feel alarmed yet it wasn’t enough to prepare them for what the turncoat will do.
The knife was placed in one of the agents’ palms, none of their fingerprints covering its handle.
The Handler was watching from the camera feed as his former agent played the role of a grieving civilian involved as collateral damage, unconsolable as the paramedics told them they did everything they could. There was a sense of nausea as it hit that their top agent had become a liability, an enemy.
His current agents were currently handcuffed, framed by his former agent. He held back a curse as he opened the line for the protocols in place for this exact situation.
Mind turning to its professional gears, he’d taken a few breaths as he called several contacts, making sure to explain the bare minimum as parts of his mind scrambled for the proper order of words that would perfectly cement the present reality.
Agent Phoenix is alive but is found to be a turncoat.
The months of wondering about his agent’s fate ate at his conscience as their jovial demeanor in his memories were replaced by the stoic actions in his sight. They kept to themselves before, yes, but it wasn’t to that extent. It wasn’t like them to strike at their own coworkers to frame an enemy.
The heartache in him only grew, choosing to crush the lingering hope as he forced himself to recall the circumstances that led to this. Even if remnants of loyalty to the agency are still there, it wouldn’t change the fact that he saw his agent risk another person’s life in order to frame another person.
He would not have minded the paperwork but the image of the struggling body as blood spilled out cannot leave his mind. Their eyes were glossed over, like it was a calculated move in which the results are the only ones that mattered.
Not to mention the framing of their fellow agents tied their hands, seeing as it was civilian police officers whose loyalties are yet to be discerned were the ones who made the arrest and Phoenix themself demanded to press charges.
They pinned the agency in a situation where something will be lost, either the agents who only did their jobs during the mission and shouldn’t be punished for it, or intel that could save the agents but could potentially threaten the entire agency.
The discovery of the unintentional side effect of the kinesium potentially killing agents would be enough to spark outrage and cause funding to be cut significantly, if not all together.
They’re now trapped.