Proximity Hazard

The first thing people usually notice about me is that I don’t look like the kind of man who waits.

They’re right. I don’t.

Waiting implies hope. Hope implies variables. Variables get people killed. And I couldn’t afford that in my line of work.

I stood at the edge of the overlook, my hands resting on the cold concrete barrier, as the city stretched out below us like a living thing. Lights pulsed. Traffic crawled. And somewhere down there, men were making decisions that would end lives before sunrise.

I had been doing this long enough to know better.

The wind pulled at my hair, long enough to fall into my eyes if I didn’t keep it tied back or in a cap. I hadn’t cut it in months. No time. No reason to. It was dark, thick, and unregulated, the kind that invited fingers without permission if someone was stupid enough to try. It was starting to irritate me. I made a mental note to trim it when we get back.

My reflection in the glass behind me was vaguely familiar. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Built lean and hard from years of doing this shit. No wasted bulk. No softness. All sharp corners and hard surfaces. Green eyes that missed nothing and gave away even less. A face that looked carved rather than born, sharp lines set by sun, exhaustion, and decisions that couldn’t be undone.

Behind me, my team moved with the easy familiarity of men who had survived each other and whatever fucked-up shit the world threw at them. Quiet. Efficient. Ruthless.

Marcus leaned against a support beam, arms crossed over a chest built like a battering ram. At six feet four, we usually tower over most people, but our similarities ended there. Where I was lean, Marcus is solid in a way that suggested nothing short of explosives would move him once he decides to stand his ground. Cropped dark hair, a scar cutting through one eyebrow that he was gifted when we were both serving in Afghanistan by a very generous Taliban, and a mouth perpetually hovering between a smirk and a snarl. He looked like he enjoyed chaos as long as he got to aim it.

Evan, the youngest among us, sat on a crate nearby, boots hooked around the edge, his long legs folded, which made him look like an oversized child trying to sit in a clearly too-small chair. His fingers flew across his laptop like he was playing a game instead of dismantling encrypted systems for fun. The boy is a genius. His blond hair was perpetually disheveled, his glasses slipping down his nose.

Luke, our medic, stood a little apart, posture straight, movements reserved. You would never guess that just a mere ten years ago, I found him in a bar in Portugal, drinking himself stupid. Now, he had the calm that the team needed in dire situations. Nothing fazed him anymore. His brown hair was usually kept neat, and his eyes were steady and observant. He radiated competence in a way that made people trust him without knowing why.

Jonah was where he always was. In the shadows.

Tall. Lean. Scarred. Still.

His face was a map of this no one dared talk about, his eyes dark and unreadable. You would forget he was there until he’s needed. And he is always needed.

They were ghosts. All of them.

Carefully erased, deliberately rebuilt. I had pulled every one of them out of places no one else came back from.

They were my responsibility. My team.

“ETA?” Marcus asked, breaking the quiet.

“Two minutes,” Evan replied without looking up. “Unless you want to go down there and ask them to hurry the fuck up.”

“Listen here, you little shit,” Marcus started.

Evan chuckled.

I didn’t turn around. “Let it play out.”

Marcus snorted as he tried to grab Evan’s head. “You always say that before shit goes sideways.”

“Because it usually does,” I said.

The city air was cold and sharp in my lungs. My phone vibrated once in my pocket.

I didn’t need to check it to know who it was from. Only one person knows this number.

Director Jeremy Sato, our “handler,” didn’t waste messages. I glanced down.

INCOMING ASSET. BRIEFING AT 0800. FULL CLEARANCE.

I stared at the screen longer than necessary.

Incoming asset? No one told me about a fucking asset.

I exhaled slowly, the anger threatening to rise.

“Looks like we’re getting a new toy,” Evan said, finally glancing up. His eyes were looking at my phone. I should have known the message was going to go through his system before it got delivered to mine. “Are you going to tell us, or should I hack the director’s calendar and ruin the surprise?”

“You do that, and I will personally make sure that the only computer you’re going to have is a cardboard cutout,” I said. He knows my threats are no good here.

He grinned. “Worth it.”

Luke tilted his head slightly. “Asset or assignment?”

“Asset,” I said. “Embedded.”

That got everyone’s attention.

Marcus straightened. Jonah’s gaze sharpened. Evan’s grin widened in a way that suggested he was already planning something to annoy me.

“About fucking time,” Marcus said. “We’ve been punching through walls for years. Maybe this one opens doors.”

“Or get themselves killed,” I replied.

The silence settled.

Luke looked at me steadily. “You wouldn’t bring someone in if you thought that.” Then he looked at me suspiciously. “You were the one who was bringing someone new in, right?”

I didn’t answer.

“Oh shit.” Evan looked up from his computer. “You didn’t bring them in.”

“If not you, then who did?” Marcus asked.

“Above my pay grade, unfortunately,” I said, trying to keep my voice as neutral as possible.

“Well, this isn’t gonna be pretty,” Evan said.

Below us, the city kept breathing. Just like all the other cities we get sent to.

I had built my life around control. Knowing every exit, every contingency, and every weakness in the room.

I didn’t do surprises. And yet, somewhere between the blinking lights and the weight of my team behind me, I had the unsettling sense that whatever was coming wasn’t just another asset; it was going to be a problem. The kind that didn’t stay nearly contained. The kind that got under your skin.

I pushed off the barrier and turned toward my men.

“Pack it up,” I said. “We’ve got a briefing in the morning.”

Marcus cracked his knuckle. “Fucking finally!” He grunted as he stretched. “My balls are about to fall off.”

“Ohh… kay, Marcus.” Evan looked disgusted. “That image is going to haunt me for the rest of my life.” He said as he was loading his equipment.

As we moved, the thought hit me, uninvited and unwelcome.

Whoever they were, whoever Sato sends, she was stepping into a machine that didn’t bend easily. And if they tried to change it—I couldn’t even think about it without the anger rising again.