So this is my third FanFiction, my second on the Bourne Legacy, and I'm really excited to see how you all receive this. As mentioned in the summary, this story is centered off of Aaron Cross's days in training and as an Operative. This story is also about June Monroe.
As June was merely a name dropped and unexplained character in The Bourne Legacy, I always found her to be extremely fascinating. How she is the first person Aaron thinks of when creating an alias for Marta, and his expression when Marta asks "do you know her", to which he responds with a cryptic and saddened "not anymore". And how is it exactly that in The Bourne Legacy Aaron just so happens to have a woman's wallet stored away in his CIA issued and stocked car door?
One thing I can promise you, is that this story is entirely unique, and I hope that you love it!
Please leave me a review and tell me what you think! I'll love you forever if you do! :)
Obviously I do not own any of the Bourne movies or any of the recognizable characters, June Monroe is, however, my interpretation of her so...I suppose she is a partial OC.
June Monroe: Piper Perabo
"Are you comfortable?" The deep toned voice of Dr. Albert Hirsch reached me from his seat across the room.
I fidgeted with my heart monitor on my finger. "Yes, sir," I managed.
"You don't look comfortable." Hirsch rejoined.
I swallowed. "No, sir."
Hirsch looked down on his clipboard for a moment, before shifting his direct, unblinking stare upon me again. "What's your name?"
"Kenneth James," I answered.
"Full name, Kenneth."
"Kenneth James….." I stopped, searching for the missing piece. "Kenneth James…." I whispered again to myself under my breath, hoping that the repetition of the sound would bring the word I couldn't quite find. "Kitsom." I finished, looking up at Hirsch again, hoping that I was right.
Hirsch nodded, and I felt a brief sense of relief before the nervous anxiety took me over again.
"Where do you live?"
I wrinkled my brow. "When?"
"Before you enlisted."
This time I had an answer.
"In Berwin," I said quickly, a little too quickly as I hadn't waited to take a breath, speaking on my exhalation and causing me to be out of breath at the conclusion.
"Is that a town?" Hirsch asked.
I frowned, having to think about my words. "It's—It's a state home."
"What state?" he continued to press.
My frown deepened. "In—In Reno. Is this a test?" I asked quickly.
"Yes, it is." Was my answer.
I took a breath, dropping my eyes down to my hands in my lap.
"If I pass," I said, anxiously, looking up again, "can I stay here?"
"Do you want to stay here, Kenneth?"
I looked into his eyes, speaking with as much confidence as I could muster. "Yes, sir."
Hirsch nodded. "That's good to hear….."
"He's peaking!" I heard a woman cry, a thousand other sounds and feelings pressing upon me all at once, as the buzz of voices and the now sporadic beeping of countless machines verged into my consciousness.
My eyes started open, my limbs flailing as I tried to rise, sucking in an tremendous gasp of air, my heart rate racing.
My efforts to rise were cut short by a strap across my chest holding me down on the hospital bed I was lying on, while even my arms and legs were secured by my sides. Still I struggled against my bonds, not even realizing why.
As my vision cleared, I became aware of the faces of masked doctors and nurses, looking down upon me while talking in quick tones with each other, referring to their clipboards and to the swarm of monitors surrounding the bed.
"He's stabilizing," I heard the same nurse report once more above the buzz of other sounds, and what she said must have been true because my heart rate began to slow back to normal and my struggling waned. Still, however my eyes darted from one face to the next, my pupils slightly dilated.
"What's happening?" I croaked out between cracked lips, my voice sounding foreign in my own ears.
"Exactly what you wanted to happen, Kenneth." was the answer I received, though it came from a voice I had not yet heard, while a face that had gone unnoticed appeared inside my line of vision.
It was a face I recognized.
"My name is Dr. Albert Hirsch, but you know that already, don't you Kenneth?"
The riddled responses, the repetition of my name, the way he brought his face into the light and met my eyes, all were cues I knew to be meant to jog my memory. And it was working. I was slowly remembering everything.
I remembered my life before joining the army, I remembered being recruited and barely scraping through boot camp, I remembered the IED we drove over while on my first tour in Afghanistan, I remembered waking up in some facility, and I remembered talking to this man before me, Dr. Albert Hirsch. But most importantly, I remembered what we talked about.
What was all that about memory sparking cues I was just thinking about a moment ago? How the hell did I draw that conclusion from his words? But it was true. I knew it to be so, and his next words just went to prove it.
"You remember, don't you Kenneth?" Hirsch said again from above me, his voice sounding in low, gravely tones, that seemed to vibrate from deep within his diaphragm.
My eyes flashed over to his face, frowning slightly. "I do." I answered hesitantly. "Am I—Did you—change me? Are you finished?"
Hirsch smiled, looking down his nose and past his narrow rimmed glasses at me. "You, too, already know the answer to that, Kenneth. Can you feel the difference? In how you think? In how you breathe?"
I could feel the difference. I could feel it in every fiber of my being.
l could feel the blood pumping through my veins, my lungs seeming to expand each time I took a breath, bringing with it a new energy, a spark of some fire that seemed to be smoldering deep in my bones, just itching to be let out and given free reign.
And my mind….
For the first time in my life, I could think.
My brain was working at an incredible pace, giving me a consciousness and awareness of every sound, every movement in the busy room. Receiving, processing, and storing away each particle of information I received before moving on to the next one. But I seemed to be doing it without any extra effort on my part, as if my brain had been doing such a practice for years till it had turned into a habit, easily adapted to.
It was incredible.
For the first time in my life, I felt alive.
Dr. Hirsch, who had been watching my face closely all during my personal discovery, smiled once more. "We have given you a new life, Kenneth, and with that new life comes a new name. You are no longer Kenneth James Kitsom. From now on, you will be known as Aaron Cross."
He paused, and I digested his words.
I didn't want to be Kenneth anymore, I didn't want to have to live his life, too slow and stupid to live unassisted. What I had now, what they had given me, it was the realization of all my dreams; to finally be able to think and move as my own man. And now that I had a taste of what it was like, I didn't want to give it up.
I am Aaron Cross.
"Welcome to the program, Aaron," Hirsch continued, "Welcome to Outcome."
The sound of the clock ticking was the only sound in the room, as I sat, straight-backed, in my chair, my arms resting on the cold metal of the table before me as I waited.
The sound of boots outside in the hallway was heard, and I tensed accordingly, before the door was opened and a man walked in, closing the door behind him.
He stood still for a moment, considering me with a sharp eye, before drawing back the chair across from me and taking a seat, spreading out the contents of file he carried in with him over the tabletop.
"Aaron Cross…." he muttered absentmindedly, his eyes skimming the words on the pages of the file as he flipped through them.
"Sir," I answered, not sure if an answer was required, but responding more out of habit. My hands dropped down to my thighs.
The man raise his eyes up to my face, still holding a page in mid turn, and considered me for a moment, before laying the page to rest on the tabletop and leaning back in his chair.
"My name is Eric Byer," he began in the crisp tone one uses when accustomed to being obeyed. "I'm the man responsible for your current situation, and I am the man who can take it away at a word. I am also your superior officer and you will be reporting only to me, understand?"
I nodded and managed a "yes sir".
Byer nodded, turning his attention back to the file, which I took to be mine by a thumbnail sized picture of my face in the upper left corner on one of the pages. "Good." he muttered, his eyes tracing a paragraph. "It's been 27 hours since you received your programming…..your assessments all look good….." he trailed off for a brief period, before he lifted his head and gave me another perceptive once-over. "How are the enhancements treating you, Cross?"
"It's a dream come true, sir. I'm very grateful." I responded rigidly, though the truth in my statement was in my eyes.
Byer gave a slow nod, his eyes remaining on my face. "Good. I'm glad to hear that."
After a moment more of being under his scrutiny, he dropped his eyes and pulled out from the back flap on the file a necklace that was designed like a dog tag, which he slid across the table to stop in front of me.
Reaching out a hand, I picked it up and examined it, running my thumb over the inscription.
Aaron Cross, it read, Outcome 05.
As I ran my thumb over it, I noticed that the top gave way under my movements, so adding a bit more pressure, I slid aside the front, revealing a hollowed out inside that was lined with rows of small blue and green pills.
"That is your new Program Med Kit," Byer said in response to the questioning look I gave him. "All of our Outcome agents receive their dog tag upon introduction to the program. You can report with Doctor Marta Shearing tonight at 21:00 hours for your daily assessment, and she'll give you your dosage instructions then."
"21:00 hours?" I questioned, slipping the dog tag over my head and feeling its weight bump against my chest. "Why the change in schedule?"
"Because," Byer said, snapping his file shut and rising, "your first day of training starts now, Five."
My first day of training.
Those words sent a thrill threw me; an intoxicating mixture of adrenaline, excitement, fear, and anxiety.
"This way, Agent." Snagging his file off the tabletop, Byer turned and walked out the door, not even waiting for me to follow, though in an instant I had risen and fallen into step behind him, looking about me as I did so.
Byer led me down a series of whitewashed hallways, passing a few men and women in white lab coats as we did so, before he approached a large elevator, pressing the up button.
The doors opened with a ding, and both Byer and I stepped inside. A moment of silence passed before the doors opened out upon a spacious room, where quite the sight greeted my eyes.
The room was bare of all furnishings except for mats laid out over the floor on one half, and a long row of punching bags shaped like the head and torso of a man on the other. All along the room both men and women were going through drills. Fighting matches were going on in groups on the mats, while the punching bags were being battered repeatedly and with a skillful ferocity, and all under the watchful eyes of their instructors, pacing between the ranks with their arms clasped behind their backs, shouting out tips or instructions or stopping briefly to demonstrate.
I had but a moment to glance around me, however, as Byer moved on, leading me straight through the middle of the two groups towards the far end of the room.
My head swiveled as I took in my surroundings, watching the actions of the men and women drilling as we passed, and a few looked up in curiosity at me, though most kept their focus on their rigorous training.
I noted that not one of the people I passed by wore a dog tag around their necks.
At last we reached the opposite wall, and stood before a solitary metal door, where Byer halted and typed an 8 digit code on a keypad beside the doorframe, pressing a thumb up to a biometrics scanner.
"Eric Byer," he voiced, close to the keypad, and a click was heard, before the door slid open just wide enough for a man to enter through.
Byer stepped through this and I followed, the door sliding closed behind us with a click of finality.
Still Byer was on the move, this time down a dimly lit hallway which branched off into two separate corridors, Byer starting down the one on the left. Meeting face to face with a door, Byer glanced back at me before opening it, and we entered into an equally dimly lit room.
The room was occupied with two men and a woman holding a clipboard, all three of them watching through a one-sided window the events going on in the next room, though they glanced our way when we entered, giving Byer a respectful nod and casting a curious eye on me, their gaze quickly dropping down to my dog tag before turning to look out the window again.
Byer gave those in the room a nod, before stepping forward also to watch out the window, and I followed his example.
The room beyond was brightly lit, while small and box-like in its dimensions with four entrances on all four sides, and completely bare. In the center of the floor, stood a young woman, her blond hair tied back in a simple French braid, strands of flyaway's framing her face. She was dressed in a simple white thick-strapped tank top, and military green cargo pants, rocking back and forth slightly on her bare feet, her stance ready while her brown eyes, alight with anticipation, flicked from door to door, her lips slightly parted in an eager breath.
A short buzzer sounded, and all four doors opened, four lithe men entering through each door, effectively cornering her on all sides, while in each of their hands, they held a short bamboo staff.
The woman eyed the four men warily, her eyes shifting from one to the other as they circled her.
One of the four off to her right stepped forward quickly, making a swift move for her head with his staff. The blonde, however, reacted with lightning fast instincts, twisting in, she grabbed his wrist stopping his swing before he could follow through, and whipped the side of her palm back forcefully into his jugular.
He choked and, without wasting an instant, she twisted in and around to his back, bringing his wrist back with her so that he was caught in a painful hold, forcing him to relinquish his hold on the bamboo staff, which she whipped around, taking his feet out from under him and causing him to fall hard on his face.
In an instant the others were upon her, the first bringing his staff down in a wide arc, which she blocked with her own before twisting and bringing the back end of her staff into his exposed side, blocking a blow from another in the same movement.
The fourth rounded up on her from the side, and when she went to block his blow, his hand clamped over her staff, forcing the point of its momentum into the floor.
This didn't slow her down in the slightest however, as she used her momentum to go into a slide along his left side, using the planted pole as leverage to swing her around and in between his legs, where she rose to one knee before him, elbowing him hard in the solar plexus.
He instinctively doubled over, his hold loosening on both staffs, which the blonde speedily took over, giving him a parting blow in the side with one, before bringing him down with the other by taking out his feet.
No sooner was he down, then the remaining two advanced towards her at the same time, both of them attacking from both sides with full force.
The blonde was hard pressed to defend herself from both fronts, though with her two staffs she held her own, till, with a neat move, she somehow managed to entangle both of her attacker's staffs up with one of her own, locking it up momentarily so no movement was possible from either of them for just an instant.
However, an instant was all this woman needed.
Bringing the back end of her staff into the kidneys of one man, with a twist she brought her staff up and to the side between his feet with a sweep, tripping him up and causing him to fall hard on his back.
The lock now broken, the other was free, but didn't stand a chance against the blonde with both of her staffs now free as well.
Blocking a blow, she brought her staff in and out alongside his hand with a quick twist of the wrist, neatly disarming him, before dropping into a powerful spinning crouch and taking out his legs with hers while clipping him under the chin with the blunt end of one of her poles.
She rose quickly in one fluid movement, both of her staffs held at the ready while her dark eyes darted around at the men still strewing the floor searching for any remaining threat. Seeing that there was none, she lowered the bamboo poles in her hands and relaxed her guard, her eyes glancing up to the one-way window with a slight smirk playing about her lips.
The whole fight had lasted little over a minute, and the blonde was barely out of breath, much less even breaking a sweat.
Those in the room with me nodded, and began talking amongst each other in earnest whispers, the woman scribbling away madly on her clipboard.
I noticed a lift in Byer's head and a hint of satisfied smile flash over his face as he surveyed the outcome of the fight, before it vanished and he bent forward to activate a COM system with the room beyond.
"Monroe, report immediately."
The blonde stopped in her act of helping the men up off the floor, and glanced up at the window with a grin. "That you, Byer?" she called out, her voice coming in through the same COM.
Byer's face remained emotionless, and he made no move to answer.
Her grin matured before it faded to a smirk, and she helped the last man up before passing him her staffs and walking out the room.
A moment later, the door opened, and the woman herself walked in, the smirk still just barely visible around the corners of her mouth, while her eyes did a quick once-over of those in the room as of one accustomed to being alert at all times of her surroundings.
Her eyes alighted on Byer and she smiled slightly, coming to stand before him, leaning back on her heels, her legs slightly apart in a confident, yet ready stance, while she crossed her arms.
"You couldn't spare one visit for your old protégé, Byer?" she said with a playful smirk.
The man before her remained cool. "I've been extremely busy as of late, and you know that's not how things work. Besides," he raised an eyebrow, "it seems you've been doing just fine on your own."
The blonde smirked, before her eyes shifted over to me, looking me over from head to toe with a perceptive glance, and I knew her to be sizing me up. Her eyes lingered, however, on my dog tag, and I noticed her tense slightly, her eyes flashing up to my face.
"Who's this?" she asked, her voice losing its playfulness and holding a curious note, with a underlying hint of caution, in it instead.
"June Monroe, meet Aaron Cross, Outcome 05." Byer said, looking over both of us.
June raised an eyebrow. "Outcome 05." She voiced, saying it more like a statement than a question. "New recruit, huh?" Once more, her eyes passed over me, though this time with more scrutiny.
Byer looked steadily into her face. "I want you to introduce him to how things work around here. Show him the ropes. Get him used to his programming before the two of you meet with White."
June acknowledged Byer with a nod, her eyes still on me. "Yes, sir." she rapped off curtly, and Byer nodded.
"Good. I'll leave him in your care then." And without another word, Byer took his leave of the others in the room with a curt nod, walking to the door.
With his hand on the handle, he hesitated, however, and turned back to face June. "Oh and Monroe," he said in a low voice, his eyes meeting hers with an underlying hint of caution in them, "you know the rules."
A flicker of a shadow passed over her face, before she nodded once, and Byer turned and left the room, leaving me standing with June.
She met my eyes briefly, before they drifted over back towards the door.
When she next turned her face towards me, it seemed that her face was a bit more veiled then before, though she looked upon me in a nonthreatening manner.
June smiled faintly, meeting my eyes, and gave a vague little tilt of her head. "Welcome to Outcome, Aaron."
So? What did you all think? Let me know in the reviews below! :)