Goodbye To Good (Ambrose Version)

When Grayson received the memo that Ambrose Kim would be joining UCRT as an “interim strategical supervisor,” his first instinct was that Nick would not be pleased. He warned Ambrose of this as they took the elevator up to UCRT headquarters.

“It’s nothing personal,” Gray explained. “Justice has been under a lot of stress since Vancouver. He feels like Unity’s decision to send you means that they no longer trust our team.”

“Unity doesn’t trust your team,” Ambrose replied coolly. “With Integrity’s and Equality’s recently announced retirements, UCRT lacks experienced senior members. Until Justice proves himself capable, I’ll be providing guidance.”

Despite his no-nonsense attitude and wrinkle-free dress shirt, Ambrose didn’t look much more “experienced” than the remaining members of UCRT—Gray estimated the man to be only three or four years older than himself and Nick. But Ambrose’s rigid stance declared a military background, and his flinty expression, along with faint crow’s feet near his dark eyes, reflected a premature world weariness that Gray had noticed in others who entered military service too young. Ambrose Kim was the hardened result of a life lived in accordance to rules and bylaws and regulations, whereas Nick relied more on his instincts during missions than by-the-book strategies. Nick’s impulsive willingness to throw himself into harm’s way had saved numerous lives . . . and, on several occasions, also almost cost his own. Gray had a hunch how this introduction between Ambrose and Nick would play out, and he wasn’t looking forward to his inevitable role as intermediary.

The elevator chimed open to UCRT Headquarters. Nick sat atop his desk, his feet propped up on the nearby chair, and wearing Aeon-issued sweats that indicated he’d recently returned from training. He finished his cookie, licked melted chocolate from his thumb, and hopped off the desk to greet the newcomers. The contrast between his sweat-drenched, cookie-crumb-covered tee-shirt and Ambrose’s starched professionalism was stark; Ambrose’s lips tightened as he stared at Nick’s outthrust hand, thumb still smudged with chocolate.

Realizing that Ambrose had no intention of accepting his handshake, Nick’s hand dropped slowly back down to his side, and his smile faded. “You must be Kim.”

Ambrose set his briefcase down on Equality’s old desk, causing Nick to wince—he was still sore that Hopper had resigned UCRT. Gray empathized, but he also understood Hopper’s decision: Nick had made the wrong call, sending the man to deal with that cult alone. Had he and Gray been more experienced, they might have more accurately accessed the threat and assigned Equality backup. Unity’s decision to transfer a strategic supervisor was the right one; some things, UCRT’s newest Justice and Fortitude would only learn through experience. Until then, Ambrose was meant to help.

“I’ll need comments before you go home tonight,” Ambrose instructed as he handed Nick a thick folder. “Our first priority is to find replacements for Equality and Integrity; I’ve narrowed down the pool of applications to candidates whose powers will be assets. Your former teammates’ departures present an opportunity to diversify UCRT’s ability pool.”

“Their retirement is a loss,” Nick objected heatedly. “Not an opportunity.”

Ambrose continued to arrange his belongings, varied files and pens, into the desk shelves. “UCRT is down two members,” he said. “Failure to fill those positions immediately isn’t just a vulnerability of deficient manpower; it’ll be viewed as an opportunity to every big player Ment in the underworld hoping to shake things up while UCRT is understaffed. Have the applications back to me within an hour, and consider accepting a precog.”

“UCRT members are not just some meatsacks for psychic abilities!” Nick protested “Equality and Integrity were . . .” He broke off at Gray’s warning headshake.

“The sooner we go over the applicants, the sooner we can schedule interviews,” Gray said soothingly. “Starting the process as soon as possible ensures that we won’t make a hasty decision. We’ll find someone who fits with the team.”

“You’ll need to make a decision by Friday,” Ambrose stated.

The wail of UCRT’s emergency siren prevented Nick’s angry retort, much to Gray’s somewhat guilt-ridden relief. Sure, he was dismayed that there was a crisis—that siren and flashing red light almost always meant that people’s lives were in immediate danger—but he’d almost rather run straight into a gunfight than keep playing mediator between Nick and Ambrose. At least bullets, he could deflect.

Nick cursed as he checked his tablet. “Berlusconi just posted a bounty on Integrity,” he relayed. “We need to suit up and—”

Ambrose pressed a button beneath his new desk, causing the siren to stutter into silence. “Another AMO team can handle the threat,” he said calmly. “UCRT has better things to do than react to threats from a low-level Ment mob boss.”

Nick’s fists clenched, his knuckles audibly cracking, and even Gray had to bite his tongue to keep from letting loose a stream of profanities at Ambrose’s declaration.

“With due respect,” Gray said, “Integrity served on UCRT for over two decades. We should be the ones to protect her.”

“Exactly!” Nick cast Gray a thankful look. “We can’t stand by while Berlusconi threatens one of our own.”

Ambrose crossed his arms. “Berlusconi posted the bounty online, which means that he’s more concerned with making a public statement than Integrity’s death. Otherwise, he would’ve quietly sent his own men to do the job. Freelancers usually don’t have a Pollard Score over 7, and most are aware that going against upper-level Unity employees will end their career.”

“I won’t abandon Mia,” Nick bit out.

Ambrose continued on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Assuming any assassin is stupid enough to accept Berlusconi’s bounty, Integrity is still more than capable of protecting herself. I’ll request an AMO to keep a watch on her daughter’s house just in case, but UCRT should only accept missions no others can handle.”

Gray blew out a frustrated breath. “He’s right, Nick. Guarding Mia is the kind of job that we would’ve taken on before joining UCRT—and we would’ve been able to handle it.”

“Kim’s more concerned with replacing Mia than protecting her,” Nick hissed.

“My priority is that UCRT be able to immediately respond to high priority threats,” Ambrose said. “Which this is not.”

“What if Vengeance attempts a second bombing and we’re unable to respond in time?” Gray asked softly. He hated having to bring up a wound that was still so raw, but Nick needed to realize that Ambrose had a point. “What would Mia have told us to do?”

“Mia would’ve claimed that she could damn well take care of herself,” Nick conceded. “But Gray . . . she’s like family.”

“And Ambrose will guarantee a protective detail for Mia until we neutralize Berlusconi, in addition to offering her family usage of a Unity safehouse,” Gray said in a voice that didn’t allow for negotiation. He stared at Ambrose in silent challenge. “Won’t you?”

Ambrose looked between Nick and Gray. Upon correctly judging that neither would budge unless this demand was met, he sighed. “Fine. But until UCRT is fully staffed, Berlusconi will be assigned to a secondary team.”

Nick’s grip tightened on the folder of applications. “Deal.”

* * * *

Ambrose Kim’s second day as UCRT’s strategist went even more poorly than his first. His third day, more poorly still. In fact, his entire first week was filled with enough conflict and clashing egos that by time the weekend arrived, Gray desired nothing more than to jump on his motorcycle and keep driving until he reached Grand Canyon National Park—a location which had been on his travel list, but that he now wanted to visit in order to yell out his frustrations into a giant crevasse.

Despite his friendship with Nick, Gray had to admit that the tense relationship between him and Ambrose was more Nick’s fault than the latter’s. Not that Ambrose made cooperation easy; the man found getting a rise from Nick to be genuinely amusing, if the constant twitching of Ambrose’s cheek muscle was indeed repressed laughter like Gray suspected. Still, Nick’s reaction to Ambrose’s demand that he redo his past year of mission reports for “clarity and precision” while leaving out “unnecessary opinion which clouded mission evaluations” . . . well, suffice to say that Gray had spent the rest of that day running interference, lest UCRT’s Justice punch their new strategist in the nose. Gray had never considered his friend to be particularly violent, but Ambrose possessed a talent for bringing out Nick’s worst.

Thus, when Nick showed up the next Monday with a fresh baked tray of cookies that he proceeded to plop onto Ambrose’s desk, his peace offering came as much a surprise to Gray as it did to the rest of UCRT.

“Thank you.” Nick’s muttered words were filled with more embarrassment than gratitude, but he managed to choke them out. “Mia called me about Berlusconi.”

Ambrose tipped his head in acknowledgement. “He’ll be a valuable informant in bringing down other mob targets.”

“I’m still not crazy over the fact that we’re cooperating with this guy,” Nick said. “But he’s called off the bounty on Mia. So . . . thanks.”

“Berlusconi is cooperating with us,” Ambrose corrected. He glanced at the cookies, his expression turning exasperated. “I did my job, Justice, as I expect you to do yours. UCRT would benefit if you spent less time baking and more time correcting those reports that I asked for.”

“Fine.” With a bitter scowl, Nick reclaimed the plate he’d just set atop Ambrose’s desk. “No cookies for you.”

Ambrose shrugged. “I’d prefer the redone mission reports.”

Gray delicately extracted the plate from Nick’s hands before it was chucked at Ambrose’s head. After all, Nick had baked his favorite cookies and there was no need to waste perfectly delicious brain fuel. (Also good: preventing an all-out battle between Nick and Ambrose.)

“Nick will have those reports done by today.” Gray registered Nick’s headshake. “By tomorrow?”

Nick nodded reluctantly.

“Nick will have the reports done by tomorrow,” Gray finalized.

“Late, but I’ve learned to expect as much,” Ambrose said. Gray shot him a disapproving glare, and he sighed. “Tomorrow is fine.”

Nick’s shoulders stiffened. He turned away, and Ambrose shrugged at Gray as if to say ‘I tried.’

“I’ll be on the roof,” Nick said gruffly. He paused by his desk to grab a large pile of papers. “Rewriting paperwork.”

As his best friend exited headquarters, Gray could only groan. He offered Ambrose a cookie, which Ambrose accepted after a quick glance to check that Nick had completely departed.

“You’re too harsh on him,” Gray said. “I realize that Vancouver didn’t go as planned, but that doesn’t change Nick’s past mission success rate. He’s a good leader.”

Ambrose reached for another cookie. “I don’t disagree that Justice is a good leader.”

“Then why—”

“Because, with more grounding and less impulsivity, he could be great,” Ambrose interrupted. “UCRT is meant to be the best of the best: the ultimate protection against renegade Ments and an ideal to which other AMOs aspire. ‘Good’ isn’t enough. ‘Good’ gets people killed.” He caught and held Gray’s gaze. “As in Vancouver.”

Gray wanted to argue. Wanted to protest that they had saved as many as possible, and that Nick had done everything in his power to prevent that bomb from going off. But he couldn’t, because guilt still ate away at him, digging its teeth deeper for every life they’d lost. It was true: Nick needed to be better, and so did he.

Ambrose observed Grayson quietly. “You understand.”

Gray nodded. ‘Good’ would never be enough on UCRT. They had to be the best.