"Target locked.  One...two...two bodyguards.  I can take them."

"Do not engage."

"What?!  Why?" shouted the irritated voice.

"We still need to check the surroundings," came the reply.  "Just wait for my orders."

He tsked in frustration.  "The target is on the move.  If we don't stop him now, it'll be too late!"

"Wait!" the voice ordered sternly.  "A cunning man like him, there's no way he would only have two bodyguards by his side."

He smirked.  "Even if he has two hundred bodyguards, I'll take them all down."

"Listen to me," came the stern voice.  "You cannot-"

Without wasting another second, he immediately took out the ear piece from his ear to avoid hearing the stern protest from the other end.

He sat at his desk in the quiet office, so quiet that the only sound that could be heard was the ticking of the clock on the wall and the scratching of pen against paper.  A moment later, the pen in his hand came to a sudden halt. 

There was a moment of silence.  His brow furrowed just as his phone rang.  He glanced at the name of the caller and let out a deep sigh before answering the call.

"Mission complete," reported the voice on the other line.

"Good work," he replied as he rubbed his temple for the oncoming headache that was about to follow.  "What about him?"

There was a slight pause.  "He caught the target," the voice replied.

Despite hearing those words, he hardly seemed impressed.  From the hesitation on the other line, he knew his hunch was right.  It always was.  "And?"

Silence on the other end.  "He was too eager and refused to listen to my orders.  He was caught off guard when the two bodyguards turned out to be twenty but he still managed to take them down like he said he would."

He sighed.  "You were in charge and you still couldn't keep him in line?"

"I'm sorry," apologised the voice.

"So," he continued calmly, knowing very well that no one can keep that brat under control.  "How bad is it?"

"Nothing too serious.  He's being treated at the moment."

"Tell him to come see me when he's done."

"Yes, Sir."

He ended the call and let out a deep sigh before glancing back into the room where the young man was getting his injured arm bandaged.  He knew that the young man would get in trouble for disobeying orders but it was his job to report everything to his superior.

"There, all done," said the doctor as he finished with the bandaging.  "It should heal quickly, provided you don't do anything stupid."

The young man frowned and pouted.  "Doctors shouldn't call their patients stupid, you know."

"You're an exception," replied the doctor nonchalantly as he began cleaning his supplies.

The young man smirked.  "You're just disappointed that he's not here.  Too bad he wasn't assigned this mission."

The doctor knew that the young man was trying to provoke him with his words.  He knew better than to entertain the young man with this pointless argument.  Instead, he handed the young man a piece of paper.

"What's this?" the young man asked as he glanced at the piece of paper in his hand.

"The bill," replied the doctor.  "I'm not a charity."

The young man scoffed.  "Put it on the old man's tab," he said as he left the room.

The doctor glanced at the man standing at the door.  "I don't know how you can put up with him."

The man simply smiled in reply.

The doctor sighed.  He knew very well the reason without the man having to say it.  "You spoil him too much, that's why he's such a brat."

When the man walked out to his car, he saw the young man in the driver's seat.  "What are you doing?"

"Man, you're slow," remarked the young man.  "Hurry up and get in.  Let's go celebrate."

"The commander wants you to report to him."

The young man rolled his eyes.  "The old man can wait.  I'm hungry now.  Your shout.  Come on!"

After a moment's deliberation, the man sighed as he got into the passenger seat.  He could never say no.

In the quiet office, he glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed.  "That brat!"