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Everybody knew American agencies didn’t work together. It was more likely to them to work with teams from another country than with each other, honestly. CIA and FBI? Really, really bad choice. FBI and any city police department? Even worse. Actually, the only team that agents were happy to see when they arrived where SWAT (and only sometimes) and IMF (this because they knew that if IMF were in, they should be out).
But SWAT and IMF working together? Nope, that was just wrong. Mostly because none of the teams knew when to back off. Both wanted to save the world, and most important, both wanted to take credits for it. Even if IMF wasn’t known publicly didn’t mean they didn’t have a reputation to protect.
This was the reason Will thought he would be safe. That he would never see Street or any of the others again. This was also why he had stopped in his tracks when he had seen the other agents, reason why Street had punched without him taking notice. Of course the second time the arm was flying he was stopping and in less than twenty seconds he had the other man in the floor.
There were screams everywhere and both teams were holding hands to the other until finally the big scary black guy, Hondo, if he remembered correctly, screamed, “shut up! SHUT THE HELL UP!”
And suddenly everybody had shut up and Hondo had put his gun on his waist holster. He looked at his team with a look that clearly said “do the same thing” but nobody moved.
“Fine, now, Gamble, do you mind letting my agent go?”
“How do you know my name?” He was glad his voice didn’t show any fear or panic. He didn’t take his eyes off Hondo but he knew his team was confused. It was still good that they hadn’t put their guns away. Well, it probably had something to do with the fact SWAT team hadn’t either but whatever.
“You shot a helicopter in the air. Of course I know your name! Oh, and you were also hit by a train.”
“Yeah,” Street said strongly struggling against his hold until finally he was let free and was up, “how did you survive? And what the hell is going on?”
He looked at his team, “it’s a long story.”
“Well, we got nothing but time,” Hondo looked at Ethan, “you?”
“We’re free. And we’d love to hear this story, Will.”
“Will?” Street looked at Will, who shrugged.
“It’s how I’m called now.”
“You definitely have lots to tell us, but before,” Will turned to Boxer’s direction, regretting it quickly when a fist met his face.
“Fuck!”
“This is for shooting me,” he punched him again and Will definitely needed to work his reflexes more, “and this is for TJ.”
Will shrugged again, “I guess I had it coming.”
“Yeah, you did,” Chris told him and started coming towards him.
“Sorry, hun, but you got me once, got me twice, got me three times, you ain’t gonna get me a fourth,” he could see his team faces hearing his way of talking. Will was an analyst; he had gone to a good college. He wasn’t Gamble.
“Shit,” she looked at Boxer, “you should have let me punch him the second time.”
“Sorry, Chris,” it was obvious he wasn’t.
“Can we please go? We’re starting to attract attention,” Hondo said and it was true. They had met in SWAT exercises building and it was obvious the other agents were starting to get curious. Not to mention some of them still remembered Gamble.
“Where do you want to go?” Ethan asked finally putting his gun again. Benji followed right away (he wasn’t a big fan of guns) but only when the other team started putting them away did Jane finally put her away.
Hondo traded looks with the others, “the meeting room isn’t very small. We can talk there.”
“Okay, lead the way.”
Hondo didn’t wait for another word and was quickly walking away. His team and Will’s followed but Jim was still looking at him. He didn’t just seem shocked or confused, he seemed betrayed and that hurt. Yes, Gamble had been a son of a bitch to him, and yes, Jim almost killed him (but he did take him away off the train in time), but they had been partners for years.
Will didn’t look at him when he rounded him and followed the others.
On the room everybody sat except for Boxer, who was leaning against a wall and Will, who was standing against a white board.
“So… where should I start?”
“How about the reason you aren’t in prison?” Chris said in an angry voice. He didn’t even knew her!
“Okay,” he drew a deep breath, “I did go to a jail, but two months in and they called me, it seemed an old friend wanted to do business with me. He wanted me to get some cocaine out of the country and you know, I had made a plane land on a bridge, so… Anyway, the cops, FBI, found this and they made me a deal. I would get out early if I helped them get Barros in prison.”
“And you just said yes? The Gamble I knew would have spit in their face,” Boxer said and Will sent him a yellow smile.
“I thought about doing that but Barros was a son of a bitch, so I thought: why the hell no? And I helped them, and Barros went a way for life.”
“That still doesn’t explain you becoming an agent for IMF or changing names.”
“When the cops were supposed to come in things went bad and Barros started shooting. I was told to back off but I didn’t, instead fighting alongside the other agents. They said that because I hadn’t ran away no officers had died and that they had a proposition to me. I could forget my old name, my old life, be told dead to everybody, change name and become an agent, or go back to jail.”
“And you choose to go back to being an agent? Last time I checked you’re the one that left SWAT,” Jim said with rage in his voice.
“I wasn’t going to say yes in the beginning but they made me a pretty good offer.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, all the training hours I wanted with machine guns,” he gave them one of Gamble’s smirk, “I couldn’t say no to that.”
“So you became an agent for the FBI. Then what?”
“Three years ago I was supposed to protect a couple,” he was glad his voice didn’t break, “but things went bad so I retired and became an analyst.”
Jim started laughing, “you? An analyst? You’re shitting.”
Will rolled his eyes, “I’m not shitting you. It seemed like the right thing to do. Anyway, I spent the last three years doing that until the Secretary got shot while I was in the car and Ethan took me with him. Since then I’ve become an IMF agent.”
Jim looked at him straight in the eyes, “that’s fucked up,” he then got up, “and you should have stayed in jail,” he then left with Chris shaking her head at Will and following him.
“Well, that was an interesting story, but I should have expected. A man with your talents… the government shouldn’t let you in jail. You would just escape and kill whomever you wanted.”
“I’m not a killer,” Will said looking in the other’s eyes.
“You’re not. But you’re a man that would look for vengeance,” and with that he and his team were out of the room.
Will put his arms on the table and his head laying on them.
Nobody said anything for a while, until, of course, Benji opened his mouth, “so what’s your real name?”
Will looked up but didn’t take his head out of its place, “Brian Gamble.”
“Wait. You got your name tattooed? I mean, the excuse that you liked to gamble and had tattooed it was low but this… seriously?”
“Yeah,” now Will got up, “what’s wrong with it?”
Benji put his hands in the air, “nothing, nothing, it’s just… weird.”
“Yeah, well, Brian Gamble was a weird guy.”
“Was?” Ethan asked.
“Yeah, didn’t you hear? He died almost ten years ago. Hit by a train.”