Brian Adian Kinney. Codename: Liberty. No longer the drugged-up alcoholic of his club boy days. Now, one of the top CIA operatives in North America for the last six years. He still tricks, obviously, but after the night he spent with that mysterious twink from under the streetlight, he was different. He wanted different things from life. Things that, amazingly, didn’t always include getting laid every single time his dick twitched.

There was a void now. One that his previously used methods of pain management couldn’t touch. It was unfortunate, and damn if he didn’t try, but once he realized that partying wouldn’t touch the feeling, he knew he would have to find another way.

He found a new line of work and it helped him ignore that pesky feeling of emptiness. Of course, no one knew about his new profession. Well, no one save Ted and Cynthia. It was funny to him now that he knew who they really were. They hid themselves very well in their previous NOCs (non-official cover). Ted really did numbers well, so the accounting came very easy for him. Thing was, Ted Schmidt was anything but predictable and boring. He was a tech op marvel. He knew the ins and outs of so many operating systems and he could manipulate them like they were instruments playing in tandem with the operas he loved so much.

Cynthia was less of a surprise. She had always been sneaky and a bit terrifying in her own right. Brian had always wondered how she was able to get her hands on all the information that he had demanded of her in such a short amount of time. Now, he understood. She was head of Intelligence Gathering for the Pittsburgh desk. She had her fingers in many proverbial pies. Her contacts were far reaching due to begrudging respect given to her for clawing her way up by using her brain rather than her vagina.

All three of them run their missions from Kinnetik. Brian uses his status as CEO as cover for travelling. Ted and Cynthia use CFO and COO respectively. To outsiders, they all run the top advertising agency in Pennsylvania, and noone is the wiser.

What most don’t know is that underneath, literally below, Kinnetik is the base of operations for their “other” business. It would come as a surprise to many that had not been read in, that Kinnetik provided NOC’s for a large number of operatives. At least a fourth of all employees that worked there were also operatives for the Agency. It made things much easier on the spy front.

When Brian first decided to try for the CIA, he had many doubts about his ability to succeed. Luckily for him, he was a natural in many areas that were looked for. It didn’t really surprise him that he got a call to head to an office in downtown Pittsburgh for an interview. He knew that he would at least get that far.

“What makes you think that you are suitable for the Central Intelligence Agency, Mr. Kinney?” A woman with silver gray hair piled in a bun atop her head asked him. He wasn’t told her name, but perhaps that was a test. He was observant when he entered anywhere. Years of looking for just the right trick had served him quite well in that aspect. He remembered looking at the directory in the lobby. He had been told to go up to the fifth floor, office 534. There were no names on the doors like you would assume an office would contain. Brian was suddenly very glad that he took time to look around himself.

“Ms. Farnsworth, may I call you Regina?” He asked her, professionally of course. He wasn’t trying to keep himself out of the CIA before he even had a chance to begin. The woman smiled at him and nodded, “Regina, I have spent many years trying to be the most successful person in the world. It stems from my childhood. I think I could benefit the CIA in ways that others cannot. Where most operatives live under the radar for the more clandestine operations, my skill set can make it easier to infiltrate corporations. There would be no need to back date paperwork to ensure cover identity as I already have a well-established business persona.”

“Don’t you think that since you are well known in the business world, that it would be a hindrance rather than something we could work with? Furthermore, we are more than aware of your… proclivities.”

“I understand where you, and the rest of the Agency, may think that. However, I think it is my ability to figuratively sell ice to Eskimos that would ensure a prominent success rate in ops that require a certain amount of finesse.” Brian explained. Regina nodded her head. “As for my, proclivities, as you say; it is partially a façade that I have donned for many years. It is certainly not something that I find necessary to survive.”

“Hmm. Well, you certainly know how to get people to listen to you. Perhaps there is something you can do for us after all, Mr. Kinney. I think it would be in your best interest to report to Camp Peary next week, Monday. You are going to need to make arrangements to ensure that no one knows where you are going. I trust that will not be a problem for you.” It wasn’t a question. Brian nodded.

“I promise that the Agency will not regret this decision.”

“See that we don’t. Dismissed.” Regina turned away from him then. He rose from the chair that he had been stationed in. A feeling of pride welled inside him. Things were finally going to start going right. This was going to be the beginning of a new life. Brian was more than ready to move forward after years at a standstill.

The Farm refined abilities that Brian already possessed, like his ability to read what others wanted or needed. Brian had always been good at that when it came to sex. He wasn’t known for being a Stud for no reason. After long months of cultivating the skill, he could easily read intention beyond mere need. He had the ability to see when people were intentionally being dishonest and attempting underhanded manipulation. His time at the Farm opened his eyes in so many ways. Many of which changed his life outside dramatically, and not just in positive life affirming ways.

Brian had always been savvy when it came to negotiation. In the past he would often use his dick as means to smooth the way. He didn’t need to do that if he didn’t want to. He was a damn wordsmith, able to build and destroy with simple phrases, beyond his usual sarcasm and caustic wit. His interpersonal skills had progressed farther than even he dared to expect.

It didn’t hurt that Brian spoke three languages other than English. He had learned them for business and frequently used them when he worked for Vanguard. Knowing Mandarin, Spanish and Arabic come in more than handy when working for the Company. Immediately, he was recognized for those skills alone.

All of it combined gave him an edge for clandestine operations. With his Bachelor’s in Psychology, he was a shoo in. He was grateful when an advisor at Carnegie Mellon told him that double majors were a wonderful thing to have. Brian admitted that he wanted to study the human psyche to find out how he could avoid turning into the fuck up his old man had been. For a while, that knowledge didn’t help. It did now, The Farm shaped him and sent him back to Pittsburgh a new man. He owed the Company everything.

Ted had been shocked when he learned his new NOC, though shocked was the understatement of the century. Finding out that Brian Fucking Kinney was a Company man just about took the cake. He met with Cynthia about their new assignment. Both were astounded and spoke of the situation with humor and a healthy dose of caution. Who knew what made Brian turn his life to this out of the blue? That was six years ago. Today, they were a well-oiled machine. Cynthia would brief the team, Ted and Brian and whomever else they had with them would plan out strategies and contingency plans to ensure success.

It was another day of all work for Kinnetik, as it was basically whenever they weren’t actively doing something for Langley. Brian was looking over finished boards for Brown Athletics when he received a text message from Cynthia containing one word.

Yellow

He tensed immediately. He knew it meant that Langley had just sent Cynthia something that would soon become actionable. He made his way to the main door of his office and clicked the button to engage three different locks. He closed the blinds that were hung over the window and went to this intercom.

“Rebecca,” Brian spoke tersely to the temporary secretary. He hated the girl with a passion, but in the absence of his usual secretary, Jessica, who was currently on maternity leave, he couldn’t actively complain.

“Yes, Mr. Kinney?” the voice of the Valley girl wannabe hit his ears. He cringed slightly.

“I’m not to be disturbed in my office. Call my cell if anything Gus related comes up.” He paused.

“You know what that means. If Lindsey comes to chat about our son needing something, and it doesn’t look like she is in hysterics, don’t bother me. That doesn’t count as a reason to disturb me.” He felt the need to remind the girl following the last pseudo-emergency chat that the mother of his child had brought to his office. Gus being eight now, had his own phone, and would use it to get ahold of Brian should he need anything. Gus was the only one on the list to always be put through on the phone. Gus came first. Always.

“Of course, Mr. Kinney. I’m sorry about last time. Won’t happen again.” The temp told him, gum smacking like a cow chewing cud.

“Of course.” Brian knew it wasn’t really Rebecca’s fault. It was her first day on the job, and Lindsay in her WASPish ways had preyed on the girl. Brian gave the girl a pass but told her next time it happened would be the last time she did anything in the capacity of being his personal secretary. He didn’t give his employees more than a single warning. He always expected the very best from those that worked under him.

Brian walked to his executive bathroom and opened a panel near the shower. A simple press of a button had the far wall sliding to the right, exposing an elevator. Brian entered and punched in his code- 1729487- and waited the twenty-six seconds that it took to descend. Once the door opened, Brian stepped into the sleek room. The far wall held a bank of monitors, usually teeming with information, now curiously blank. Ted, Cynthia, and four others were already around the circular table in the middle of the room, tablets at the ready. They all looked up as Brian took his seat.

“Well, what do we have?” Brian had expected Cynthia to just begin her brief as she did without pause. When she didn’t, he looked up at her curiously. “We don’t have all day, Cyn.”

“Unknown entity. Designation: Ocean.” Cynthia began.

“No name?” Brian queried. It wasn’t like Langley to send them incomplete documents. Usually they had everything they needed to get started. There was little research to do once Cynthia got her hands on the intel.

“We barely have a description, Bri.” Ted explained, “We only have three photos, and they are basically useless. All left side, profile. Whoever Ocean is, they sure know their way around security cameras.” Brian nodded to indicate that he wanted all the info and to hurry it along.

“Alright, Ocean, as we know him, is an American male. Age 20-25. He is number seven on the CIA’s actionable list.” Brian whistled.

“What the hell did a kid do to earn a top ten spot on our shit list?” Brian asked, doubting this kid could really be as dangerous as Langley made him seem.

“He is credited with the recent assassination of Mayor Stockwell. He is a killer; a sniper, and a damn good one. He has 93 confirmed kills. His suspected hits are in the triple digits. This kid is one of the best single man strike teams we have ever seen. In and out. No evidence. No clear witnesses. The kid is a ghost.” Chuck told him while flicking through the data on the screen in front of him.

“Is that all we know?” Brian asked, mind already running to come up with plans.

“We know that he either has 20 different rifles or has one with interchangeable barrels. It’s why his suspected hits are so high. The MO matched, but the weapon caliber wasn’t right. He always wears a head covering of some sort. His eyes, when they aren’t obscured by sun glasses… Well, apparently, they are this incredible shade of blue. It looks like falling in an ocean. Hence the name.”

Brian’s mind flashed to a night 8 years ago. He saw eyes that have haunted him since. That fucking smile that lit up the night. Even in his very, VERY intoxicated state that night, Brian knew he would never forget that smile. The one he got right after they fucked the first time. That wonderment, the eyes that held unwavering trust even though they were strangers in nearly every sense of the word. He couldn’t remember the kids name now, but that didn’t matter to his dick. His dick always twitched when he remembered that fateful night.

“Earth to Brian! Where did you go?” Ted’s voice broke through the memory. Brian rolled his lips without a word. This job wasn’t about some fucking twink he would never see again.

“Nowhere. Just thinking potential strategies.” Brian said with a shake of his head to clear the last of that night from the forefront of his mind.

“Strategies make you hard?” Chuck joked. If Brian was the type, he is sure he would have blushed. Instead, he smirked.

“You know how much I love the chase.” Brian responded as Cynthia and Ted both rolled their eyes.

“Do you have any idea how we are going to do this with so little intel?” Ted questioned, his voice hard. “We usually have at least a face to go on. This time is different. Nothing we have is actually actionable at this point.”

“Then we data mine until we find something that is.” Brian said simply. “Cynthia, get all the info on the confirmed kills. We need to know why they were killed. From what we can tell, Ocean has skills. We need to deduce his skill set to bare bones. He got the knowledge from somewhere. The kind of precision it takes to achieve some of the kills isn’t something that you pick up in a fucking library. Ted, you and Chuck consolidate with Cynthia and see if any of the other kills were politically motivated like Stockwell. I don’t see how it was anything other than politics there, but we need to nail it down. Troll the usual message boards to see what our outside assets are able to dig up. Ocean gets hired somehow. Might find something on the Dark Web that connects to the contracts.” Brian clapped his hands together, more than ready to help Cynthia with the mountains of data that they were going to need to sift through. It was going to be a long few days.

----

After everyone had a job to do, Brian took a moment to check his phone. Two messages from Lindsay. Four missed calls from Michael. Brian pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t deal with this right now. He made sure the messages from Lindsay weren’t concerning Gus before deciding to just ignore everything from them. He had more important things to do.

He started combing through the data, trying to find some way of figuring out the enigma that was Ocean. There had been a single witness to describe him. In the early days, what had to have been one of the first hits Ocean did, a woman hired Ocean by posting a carefully worded ad on Craigslist of all places. She had posted that she wanted her abusive father out of her life once and for all. Ocean answered and met with her. He offered to do it for free so that it wouldn’t tie her to the death. Unfortunately for her, she insisted. While she had no idea how it would be done, it wasn’t hard for authorities to find the ad that she posted. It was even easier to find that she pulled out $2,500 from her savings account several days before her father was killed. She was charged with felony conspiracy to commit murder. When she gave her testimony, she said the man she gave the money to had incredible blue eyes, she remembered because the color had captivated her. She was quoted as saying, “it’s like falling off the edge into an ocean”. He wore a baseball cap, but she didn’t notice anything else about him other than the fact that he looked like a kid.

The money she gave him was returned to her and it was enough to get her acquitted of all charges. She didn’t pay anyone money to kill her father now that the money had been sent back to her. All she did, as per her attorney, was speak to someone about the abuse that she suffered at the hands of her father. Since it had never been disclosed to the public the amount she had paid, having the exact amount returned to her saved her.

Brian had to wonder about it. A cold-blooded killer ensured that the woman didn’t face jail time. It just didn’t fit the profile of a serial hit man. Brian read the letter that had been enclosed with the money. Helvetica, size 12 font, black ink, single spaced, and printed on unremarkable printer paper. There had been no trace evidence on anything; not the money, not the envelope, not the paper itself, it was sterile as a hospital.

‘I was not paid to kill Victor Wayne Burgess. The man was abusive and got what was coming to him. He was shot because he deserved it.’

Why would a killer do what Ocean had done? Was it a twisted sense of empathy? Perhaps he wasn’t content to share the credit of his kill? There were too many unanswered questions.

Whatever the reason, subsequent hits were much more careful, and it seemed that he no longer met people in person anymore.

There was no clear way to get ahold of him now. Brian knew that they would have to find out how to contact they guy. They would need to set up a dummy target. It would put someone’s life in grave danger. Was he prepared for that? This was beyond the scope of anything he had done for the Company in the last six years. This mission would make or break him. He knew because he would be sacrificing himself. He wouldn’t allow another to go in his place. There were just too many variables that they couldn’t control.  The plan would need to be beyond reproach.

First, Ocean needed to be found.