"Are you serious?"
The plane had just landed. The moment Morin stepped out of the airport, his superior-Chris, the bald man walking straight toward him-dropped that line.
"What else?" Morin smiled. "When have you ever seen me mess around?"
"When have you not been messing around?" Chris wasn't surprised by Morin's shamelessness. Ever since Morin had taken a full month to return from Dubai, Chris-then still the head of the operations department-had realized one thing.
This subordinate was completely out of his control.
Chris was smart. Once he understood that, he stopped trying to suppress Morin and chose cooperation instead. Requests? Approved. Messes? Cleaned up.
Morin wasn't ungrateful.
Since Chris was so easy to work with, Morin didn't mind helping him climb a bit higher, as long as it meant continued convenience for himself.
That was how things ended up the way they were now.
In just one year, Morin became a top agent.
And Chris? From head of operations to Director of the IRS.
When a subordinate is capable, the boss naturally benefits.
That only reinforced Chris's decision to back Morin all the way.
But this time, he really was a little panicked.
That was why he kept asking if Morin was sure.
If Morin had said he was going after a few drug cartels, Chris wouldn't even blink. He'd approve it, allocate resources, and casually ask when Morin planned to come back from his "vacation."
To Chris, that kind of mission was a vacation for Morin.
But now-
Morin was talking about breaking into CIA headquarters.
Stealing an agent list.
Even ignoring the fact that they frequently cooperated, the CIA was still the world's top intelligence agency. If this went wrong-if it leaked-Chris wasn't confident he could keep the lid on it.
So yes.
Asking again made sense.
"How can something I'm sure about be called messing around?" Morin rolled his eyes. They had reached the car. He opened the door and got in. "Relax. I've got someone on the inside. Very capable."
"You're in the wrong seat," Chris said helplessly.
"I am?" Morin patted the steering wheel. "This isn't the driver's seat?"
"No. I'm driving," Chris's face darkened. "Last time you drove, I got hit with dozens of speeding tickets."
"Uh... I was only going a little over a hundred," Morin said innocently.
"That was in the city!" Chris emphasized. "Not a racetrack!"
"I know," Morin waved him off. "That's why I didn't even hit two hundred."
"Get out," Chris said coldly. "The keys are with me."
He raised the key in his hand, smiling smugly. "Learned my lesson this time. Power's on my side."
"Are you sure?" Morin raised an eyebrow.
"...What do you mean?" Chris froze, instinctively checking the key in his hand.
"Look at my hand," Morin said, extending his right hand.
Chris stared. "There's nothing there."
"Correct," Morin nodded.
Then he flipped his palm.
A silver car key appeared.
Before Chris could react, Morin inserted it into the ignition and turned it.
The engine roared to life.
"Get in the car?"
Chris: "!!!"
"How did you do that?" Chris scrambled into the passenger seat and buckled up on instinct. "This is a new car! I just got the keys myself!"
"In the hands of a racing god," Morin said calmly, "there's no difference between new and old."
Chris twitched.
"This is a skill only I possess."
"You're completely full of it," Chris snapped. "What is it, a universal key? Some new R&D toy? Why don't I know about it?"
"No, no," Morin said seriously. "It's my special ability. I can instantly take control of any car and extract the key."
"I am the god of cars."
"I don't believe a word of that," Chris said darkly. "Looks like I need to pay R&D a few surprise visits."
"Unnecessary," Morin replied, already shifting gears. "Why would they report frontline tools to someone who sits at a desk all day?"
"...That actually makes sense."
Chris was still processing when his body slammed back into the seat.
The acceleration hit like a punch.
"Morin! What are you doing?!" Chris shouted. "This is Langley!"
"Same thing," Morin said easily. "I've driven in New York."
He shifted into fifth and floored it.
"This car's specs aren't bad."
"This is my new company car!" Chris yelled, gripping the seat. "Of course the specs are good!"
The windows were down.
At this speed, they had to shout just to hear each other.
"Trust me," Morin laughed, weaving cleanly through traffic. "Even with an old car, I'd still be faster than all of them."