The Ex Files: Get You Back

Clashing With Mr. Perfect

The air inside Captain Thorne’s office was still, heavy with the weight of absolute authority. The walls seemed to absorb all sound. Callum Riley stood straight, his eyes set ahead and his jaw tight. Beside him, Yelena March had her arms crossed with an insolent curve in her spine.

“Care to tell me what that was all about?”

“A competition,” Yelena said snarkily.

“Your little competition was a showcase of exceptional skill and zero common sense,” Captain Thorne said, his voice was so absolute it brooked no argument. “Agent Riley, your adherence to protocol is impeccable, but your choice to engage in a reckless wager over this,” Thorne glanced at Yelena like it was ridiculous. “is not good judgement.”

Callum's face hardened, and he began to speak, not apologetic “Sir, with all due respect, her methods are a liability. I was simply trying to demonstrate that proper protocol is the only way to—”

“I am not interested in your justification, Agent Riley,” Thorne cut him off. “You know better than to engage with something like that. As for you,” He turned his cool gaze on Yelena. “Agent March, your talent for bypassing every structural rule is astounding. You just got here.”

“That’s ridiculous! His method is slow and obsolete—” Yelena started, gesturing wildly.

“I am not interested in what you think he did wrong. You’re sent here to learn.” He snapped, cutting her off. He didn’t have to raise it; the command was fixed..

Callum, who had been attempting a quiet justification of his position, immediately shuttered his mouth and snapped back to attention. What a dog.

The change was jarring though, showing the gulf between his discipline and composure and Yelena’s gauche defiance. It got her stomach sinking, lost at how to respond. She looked so bad compared to him!

“I apologize, Captain. My behavior was a momentary lapse in judgment,” Callum said, his words clipped and precise.

He was acknowledging his mistake, not asking for forgiveness. She wanted to sneer, say something petty about how it wasn’t believable for a second, but decided against it and just bit her tongue tightly.

Thorne held his gaze for a long moment, a silent message passing between them. He then turned his focus back to Yelena. “A talent for bypassing every rule is useless if you don't know which ones to keep. You've been here barely a week, and you’re already started a problem.”

Yelena bristled, but a flicker of fear stopped her. She was used to dealing with people motivated by greed or power. Thorne was different. He had a quiet power that unnerved her. Ugh, it was so weird! Even if all the cells in her body screamed to show the man a middle finger like how she used to deal with those that tried to punish her in the old streets, Yelena remained staring with a hard expression.

“This is not a competition,” Thorne said. “This is a team. A soldier’s value here is measured by discipline and teamwork, not some theatrical rebellion like the little show you got there.” He clasped his hands on the desk. “You need a lesson. Fortunately, the hangar is in need of deep cleaning. The recent downpour made the terrain considerably soft. I think you’d enjoy manually scraping mud.”

What?

Yelena felt her entire body go stidf. She took a step forward, the words tumbling out in a rush of frustration that were faster than her rational mind.

“Manual labor? Manual labor?! I’m a ghost, I’m here to be a field agent! I’m here to be trained, to be useful! You brought me here for that, did you not? If you want to punish someone, punish him!” She pointed a trembling finger at Callum, her voice rising to a near shout. Her mind scrambled for justification. She was new here, after all! “He’s the one who wasted everyone’s time trying to prove his little point!”

Callum’s hands were behind him, but his eyes cast a steady gaze on her— a gaze so calm and composed. He was definitely judging her inside! It was a look of mocking!

Thorne's expression remained perfectly flat. His voice was a cold blade.

"Your passion is admirable, Agent March," he said. "It is also your most glaring flaw. Your lack of control has further validated my decision. You will both report to the vehicle hangar for cleaning duty. I trust the discipline you find there will serve you better."

Yelena opened her mouth to speak but she was at a loss for words.

Callum, however, simply replied with a serious yet clipped, “Yes, Captain.” His immediate compliance, even in the face of injustice (at least in her petty view), only fueled her resentment. She was certain his submissiveness was a calculated charade designed to really make her look worse! What else could it be?! He was a perfect soldier, and his perfection was the only thing she wanted to destroy.

“Dismissed.”

She had no choice but to follow, striding down the halls to get to the stupid punishment place. Yelena set her eyes straight, like how Callum did because if she didn’t, she might just tackle the boy in her annoyance.

The hangar bay doors groaned open, revealing a cavernous space that swallowed the morning light. The air here was heavy with the sterile scent of gas…probably jet fuel and the scent of a harsh but pleasant steel polisher.

Yelena blinked, taken aback while Callum entered casually.

It was a place of power, a world built for machines of war.

Yelena felt an unfamiliar tug of fascination. She had lived her life in the grimy underbelly of the world, in cramped hideouts and dark back alleys. She was a ghost, used to small, dark spaces. But this hangar was immense, stretching into the gloom, a cathedral of technology. Impressive.

Her eyes scanned the rows of armored transports, black-ops aircraft in different levels, and sleek surveillance drones. The destructive power housed in this single room was breathtaking. Her lips parted in awe. In her old life, a place like this was a fortress, a symbol of the enemy's might. Here, it was a workplace. And she has access to it! Due to a punishment, yes, but an access nonetheless! The realization got Yelena’s heart pounding.

“Over here.” Callum’s voice broke her bubble of fascination. She sighed and followed him to a smaller room.

The tension was a suffocating third presence as they walked in silence towards the maintenance bay.

Callum moved with a professional stride, his gaze fixed straight ahead. Yelena's resentment was a heat in the cold air, a constant reminder of the absurdity of their punishment. This is so irritating! She was about to say something, but then, a boisterous laugh cut through the quiet hum of the hangar.

"Well, look what the Captain dragged in," the voice boomed. A bear of a man with a wild, salt-and-pepper beard emerged from behind a mobile tool chest, wiping his greasy hands on a rag. He wore the green flight suit of a transport pilot, but his love for the grimy work of the maintenance bay was evident.

He laughed again, a sound that shook his broad shoulders. "Didn't think I'd ever see our golden boy on cleaning detail. Must be for a pretty good reason, eh, Riley?"

Callum scoffed, but his lips were in a small grin. He then glanced at Yelena, like that was all of his explanation. “You could say that.”

The man's gaze shifted to Yelena, and his laughter softened into a wide grin. "And who's this one? Must be the one who finally got the better of him, huh?"

Yelena's defenses flared, but the man's genuine curiosity was disarming. "Yelena March," she said, her voice flat.

"Mac," he said, holding out a hand, forgetting the grease on his fingers. " "Don't mind that one. It's about time someone around here didn't fall in line. We all need a little chaos to keep things interesting. You're gonna be good for this place.".

Yelena's gaze flickered to his dirty hand, then to his face. She had spent a lifetime in grit and grime so a little grease was nothing. She accepted his handshake, her fingers clasping his with a firm grip, not minding the slick film of oil.

A look of genuine surprise flashed across Mac's face, his eyes widening for a moment before a booming laugh escaped him. He gave her a conspiratorial grin, then nodded at Callum, who had stiffened imperceptibly behind them.

Yelena found herself intrigued by this man. He was loud, unfiltered, and completely unlike the rest of the base personnel she had met so far. He reminded her of some of the more eccentric figures from her old life, the kind who had survived because they were just too weird to be contained. She almost smiled. Almost—because Callum’s presence beside her made it impossible.

Mac picked up two large buckets and a pair of industrial-grade brushes. "Alright, kids. Let's get this show on the road. You two are on the back half of the hangar. The whole rear bay needs to be scrubbed down and organized. Don't be shy with the cleaner."

He led them to the far end of the hangar, a dark space shrouded in shadow. It was filled with decommissioned gear. There were rusty crates and a thick layer of oily dust all around. Mac slapped Callum on the shoulder with a hearty laugh and left them to it.

The moment he was gone, the silence returned, heavier and more suffocating than before. Yelena grabbed a bucket and a brush and started scrubbing, her movements stiff with resentment and annoyance. Then she started muttering to herself. She could feel Callum beside her, emanating an aura of quiet disapproval.

"You're not going to get out of this by rolling your eyes, March," Callum said, his voice a low, infuriating monotone. He had been watching her, his stoic mask cracking just enough to reveal his frustration.

“I’m not—“

“If you hadn't been so insanely impatient and gauche in that office, neither of us would be here. So save the attitude and start cleaning."

Her jaw dropped. This…absolute priss! How dare he blame this on her?!

The cold war was over.

Yelena’s hand, clutching the handle of the brush, tightened until her knuckles went white. Her face burned. It’s not that he insulted her. It’s that maybe…she knew he was right. Her impatience had been her downfall. She was the one who had gotten them into this. But she refused to say that! She’d eat mud before she apologizes to this arrogant snot!

“I said, start cleaning.”

"You’re the one who fell for it!" she shot back, unable to hold it in anymore. "You could have just walked away! But no, you had to prove a point, didn't you? You're a walking, talking rulebook, and now we're both stuck here because of it! Don’t blame this all in me!”

Callum didn't even dignify her with a response. He simply picked up his bucket and walked to a nearby armored vehicle, his movements calm and deliberate. The lack of reaction was a far colder rebuke than any shout could have been. He is testing her. Provoking her. The nerve!

Yelena felt a surge of rage so intense it felt like a physical weight on her chest. She wanted to throw the bucket at him to force him to react.

Instead, she turned her fury on the floor, scrubbing with energy. Good decision on the outside, but she was filled with bitter bile the whole time.

For the next half hour, the only sounds were the squeak of their brushes against the concrete, the heavy hum of the hangar, and the frantic curses Yelena muttered under her breath. They worked in separate orbits, her extra careful not to even catch a glimpse of his hair…cause he’s in danger otherwise.

Still, the tension between them was very very present.

Eventually, the physical exhaustion began to outweigh her frustration. She straightened, leaning on her brush, and took a deep, shuddering breath.

Her eyes drifted around the space. Her initial fury gave way to her ingrained curiosity. She was too busy with cursing Callum in her mind that she forgot to observe around.

Her gaze swept over the hangar's tools and machinery. It was all so different from her old life. The syndicate’s tech had been jury-rigged, a chaotic collection of old and new. They were either illegally obtained, old scraps recycled, or trinkets she pocketed from missions.

Here, everything was so organized. Each tool hung on a board. The vehicles were gleaming, and even the industrial-grade cleaners smelled like they were designed in a lab.

She ran her hand over the cool, flawless metal of a tank part. In her old life, something like this was a myth, a weapon of high-level government agencies. Here, it was just… sitting in a corner. She was a ghost, trained to notice every detail, every flaw, every way in.

But Yelena is just really geeked.

Her eyes traced the seams of the material’s casing. It has a faded serial number and subtle dents that hinted at its history. It was perfect.

She found herself analyzing the hangar itself: the placement of the fire extinguishers, the reinforced plating on the walls, the discreet cameras tucked into the rafters. She logs it all in her brain. After all, she needed to understand its purpose because this was beyond just a garage. Perhaps it was a tactical map…a fortress…a piece of a larger puzzle. Something romantic!

A small smile touched her lips, born of a genuine fascination that momentarily eclipsed her anger. This was a new world, a new system. And she was going to understand every last piece of it.

She glanced over at Callum, who was still silently scrubbing the floor with methodical precision. He was still the infuriating "pretty boy," all rules and order. But for the first time, she saw him not just as her enemy, but as a part of this intricate system.

Callum, in a way, was a symbol of the world she has to learn to navigate from this day onwards. The fascination was a double-edged sword: it made her feel more connected to this place, but it also cemented her resentment for the man who was so perfectly suited to it. One day, she’ll get him back.

His jaw was set, and his brow was furrowed with concentration. Is he really a man that will give his all to even the most menial task? How infuriating!

With a sigh, she returned to her work. She still hated him, hated this absurd punishment. But now, she was at least a little more intrigued by what lay beneath the polished surface.

Secretly, in a part of her she refused to acknowledge, Yelena had never felt so sharp, so aware, so alive.

And maybe, she felt a little bit hopeful.

Still, she’s gonna kill that boy someday.