TO BE CONTINUED

The name's John; at least, that's what they think. I'm a reserve special ops agent for an underground government facility. When I'm not on duty, I work at an office as a day job. I wanted something at least a little close to my field, so I took up an engineering position. Unfortunately, I'm the guy they dump all their half-assed spreadsheets on and make presentations. Today was no different.
	It'd been a lazy morning, the heat beating down from an open window straight on to my desk. This cubicle couldn't be any shittier at any shading, let alone privacy. Afternoon began to hit. I had lunch and begrudgingly returned to my monotonous typing at my computer. About then is when it happened. I got an email from my brother.

	I don't get to see him too often. He also works at the aforementioned underground facility. He has a similar position to mine, except, instead of being a reserve he's an active agent; always out on missions and whatnot. I kind of envy it, but I understand the danger. I took a quick glance at the email. It was prefaced, in giant lettering, 'CONFIDENTIAL'. I checked about for coworkers that may be peering over. All clear.

	"Agent GORDON requesting Agent JOHN for assistance. There is an invasion of E.T.s in Civil Area 7. Assistance is requested immediately."

	Perfect. Just perfect. I guess this is what I'd been asking for, though, isn't it? I paged my boss letting him know I'd be out for the day. It was a "family emergency." I hastily shut down my computer and took a platform lift to the roof parking garage. I keep my spare clothes hidden here so I can't be easily traced back to the agency outside of operations. I don my helmet and mount my motorcycle. She growls, roaring to life like a lion.

	It's time for me to live up to my family name and face full life consequences.