Daily life of an American TV drama agent

"BOSS, I really don't see the point of visiting such an inefficient garbage agency like the CIA. Just a group of us can out-work an entire department!"

Arthur lowered his voice and said in Ron's ear with a sexy British accent. If Ron were an authentic American girl, she would love his bright bald head.

But alas, Ron was not.

"There is a saying in China, 'When three people are together, one must have a teacher.' In American terms, 'Even in the garbage recycling bin, you can still find parts that can still be used.' Even people who seem to be the worst can find them. There is something worth learning from you, Arthur." Ron said easily: "Focus, Arthur, use your eyes that are good at discovery to observe everyone here."

After Halloween, the most important day besides Howard's wedding is Christmas. Ron originally planned to go back to his hometown in Texas. He had not been back for a long time.

But just when he was about to leave, a phone call forced him to attend this exchange event with the CIA.

The big boss personally ordered it, and Ron had to obey it. However, in line with the simple sentiment that if I go to hell, you must follow, Ron did not forget to trick his subordinates.

"I don't understand, why is it me?" Arthur followed Ron depressedly.

"Mr. and Mrs. Smith asked for leave with me a month in advance to go on vacation to Italy. Frank and his group of old guys formed a senior tour group to go fishing on the sea... In other words, except for you, everyone asked me for leave in advance. I’m on leave, so if you want to blame me, it’s because you were too slow to ask for leave.”

Ron patted Arthur on the shoulder and comforted him. He turned around and smiled at the CIA receptionist who was leading them: "Sorry, please don't pay attention to my subordinate's bad attitude. When he said 'trash', he was not targeting you. But I’m saying that all of you sitting here are trash, please don’t get me wrong.”

The corner of the CIA guide's mouth twitched, and he took two deep breaths before he could not resist drawing out his gun and killing the two guys in front of him: "Huh, okay, follow me, go down this elevator, our agent command The center has been hidden in the basement.”

"Now our field agents all carry special cameras and earphones with them. They can command the agents' actions in real time through the command center, and can even be precise about every action. This has also reduced the mortality rate of our field agents by a large margin. I think this is a skill worth learning.”

"Yes, for mediocre people, this method can indeed save their lives as much as possible, but if you want to better protect them, I have a suggestion for you, that is, don't let these idiots go out to perform tasks."

Ron looked around the command center arrogantly: "If you don't seek death, you won't die. As long as they stay in this rat's nest together... I'm sorry, what was the name of this place just now?"

"Agent command center." The CIA guide agent suppressed his blush.

"Yes, the Secret Service Command Center," Ron pointed at the female agents who were chatting together: "I don't remember any secret service agency that can hold birthday parties in the office during working hours like you do here."

The guide followed the direction of Ron's finger, and several middle-aged men and women gathered together. There was a piece of cake that had been cut among them, which made him feel shameless.

"What are you doing?! It's working time now, go back to your work stations!" The guide dispersed the crowd angrily and frowned at the woman who was spitting cake on the plate: "What are you doing?"

"Ugh, there's mouse droppings on this cake." The female agent said as she was dying.

"Hahaha..." Ron couldn't hold back his laughter now. What did he just say?

As soon as he finished talking about the rat's nest, some rat shit came out to testify for him. It seemed that the communication activities with the CIA were not as boring as he expected. At the very least, it was quite interesting to see these CIAs being embarrassed.

"I'm sorry for letting you see such an unbearable scene," the guide finished training and came to Ron again: "Today is just a special situation. Our CIA has always been responsible for safeguarding world peace. You can never imagine that... What efforts we have made under the peace you are accustomed to."

The guide hurriedly went back to make amends, and Ron thought to himself: If you don't work hard, the world might be more peaceful.

Of course, he would never say such words to his face.

"For example, right now, we are solving the tracking of a small nuclear bomb through remote information support technology. You follow me."

The guide led Ron and Ron behind a fat woman wearing headphones. In front of her, under the first-person perspective lens like a game, countless handsome men and women gathered together in a luxurious banquet hall.

"The Baccarat crystal cup is so ingenious~" The agent took a look at the cup with admiration, then suddenly swung it to the side, and the cup exploded at the feet of a lady, immediately attracting the attention of everyone around him, and he was here At that time, I walked into a small door, walked around a few times, and walked into the huge underground space of this banquet hall.

"This is our best agent, Bradley Fine. What do you think?" Seeing the agent's performance on the screen, the guide finally felt bright in his face and solemnly introduced him to the two guests.

"It's a very old-fashioned method to attack in the east, but it's very effective. But if this is the level of the best agent in your department, then I finally understand why Hobbes is so good," Ron said with a mocking smile: "It turned out to be the best agent in your department. It's you who set it off."

"You!" The guide glared at Ron, but Arthur glared back rudely.

However, the dispute here did not interfere with the work of the female commander. She continued to direct the agents to bypass several patrolling people, and soon arrived behind the target person.

"Tihomir, put your hands up!" the agent pointed his gun at the old man who was talking on the phone.

"Bradley Fine," the old man actually called the agent's name: "I am honored to meet you."

"Is this the best agent you just boasted about?" Arthur also joined the taunting team: "Okay, he may be indeed excellent, but you are also holding you back enough. The agents who perform the mission are called out by the target person's name at a glance. Do you know what this means?"

The guide shook his head in embarrassment.

"It means your place has been penetrated like a sieve, idiot!" Arthur cursed unceremoniously. As a front-line agent, no one understands the dangers here better than him.

The job of an agent is to dance on the edge of a knife. The biggest reliance is on the confidentiality of one's identity, but this CIA agent failed from the beginning.