The Recovery Agent Novels & Stories

She sighed. I stared at her, a frown etched upon my face before I turned and left to find the healer. I found Alpha Ethan outside immediately when I opened the door. “What’s the update?” I demanded, looking over at his beta as he stepped closer to me Alpha Ethan shook his head, “We saw no one, I’ve made the special guards look for trails.” He instructed. “I need a healer.” I said urgently. Alpha Ethan stared at me for a few seconds in complete silence before nodding. “Follow me, please.”

I just gave him a smile, “But it's okay, I… I am slowly healing…” “Are you?” He asked. I don't know what to say. I just looked down as my hands started fidgeting. “I am not quite there yet… but I’m trying,” I muttered He smiles, “That's good to hear.” He stated, “You know, if you want someone to help get over him, I can help.” I looked at him confusedly. Did I hear him right? “W-What do you mean?” I asked “I’m saying you can use me to get over your cheating husband.”

Hugh had commented to Alpha Armstrong on more than one occasion that they would have made good Reivers had they not been human. Hugh found the number of the C.E.O’s direct line and pressed call. “Mr Crozier, how may I be of assistance this fine Sunday?” drawled the soft Edinburgh accent. “Mr Ridal, I need you to find somebody for me.” “Email me what details you have on the individual using the usual channels, do you just want an address or full disclosure?” Hugh thought for a moment, if he was going to pay for this service he might as well get his money's worth. “Full disclosure if you would.”

I step closer to the table. Hands resting lightly on the surface. “Recovery implies weakness.” A pause. Then— “I don’t recover.” --- The words settle. Heavy. Unavoidable. Because they’re true. --- “I expand.” --- The screen shifts again. New data. New targets. New names. One of them— stands out. Highlighted. Marked. Tracked. --- “Explain this.” My assistant hesitates. Just slightly. Mistake. “Say it.” He exhales. “Activity spike. Unknown organization. Highly structured. Highly hidden.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, glass vial filled with a clear, amber liquid, setting it gently on the metal table next to the medical kit. "This is the recovery catalyst," Kovac said, staring at me. "I engineered it before I left Russia. It is the only thing that will reverse the ablation safely. If you don't take it, the old toxins will slowly corrupt your neural pathways, and you will lose everything. Your speech, your memories of the last fourteen years, your mind. But if you take it... you will remember everything. You will remember the warehouse. You will remember what your mother and father did to you."

he said. "The Skill optimized the grid's structure. The biological recovery is responding to improved essence distribution efficiency." "That's significant understatement. What you just did should not be possible through conventional System mechanics. The acceleration rate exceeds any engineering protocols I've encountered." "It's Class Skill function. Inheritor of Ruin is designed for reconstruction work. Reclaim is the active Skill that enables that reconstruction at accelerated rates." Torren set down his monitoring equipment and looked at the eastern half. "How long until this field reaches functional production capacity?"

They just… vanish up the chain. My nails bit into my palms under the shackles. “They do this,” I said slowly, “under “recovery law.”” “That’s what they called it on the forms,” Nia said. “Recovery. Reallocation. Like they were fixing a mistake, not making one.” “Heard anything about Lot One?” I asked because I needed to know how far the poison had spread. “About me.”

the agent said, “to the next eligible Reynolds—pending incarceration.” Amelia’s heart dropped. “Eligible?” The agent nodded. “Yes.” Lawson’s eyes flicked to Anita, who had just entered the room behind them. “Tell me,” Lawson said slowly, “you stopped it.” Anita didn’t answer immediately. “Anita,” he snapped weakly. She swallowed. “The clause was airtight.” Amelia felt dread coil in her stomach. “So who gets it?” The agent spoke the name. “Maxwell Reynolds.”

"But let's go back to why you are here so we can send you back where you came from. That is what one does with Demons, is it not? Exorcise them?" Agent nodded. "But you are no exorcist. Sit down, Doll. You don't want to exert yourself." Agent didn't move from the spot he'd settled into. He was doing everything to appear to be non-threatening. "I am here for the same reason you are. I need to heal, to recover from my battle with Jinx."

She looked at her daughter. “You told me something like that last week,” she said. “About the framework. You said recovery isn’t separate from treatment. It’s parallel.” “He said it first,” Zoe said. She was not being modest. She was being accurate. “He did,” Bianca said. She picked up her notebook. She wrote at the top of a new page: Primary agent. Not recipient.