He was called Connor, before they named him Mars. He felt odd about the titles and wondered what was wrong with choosing your own. Apparently it was all about balance. Ten planets, ten agents, all with their own place, their own expertise. No prizes for guessing what his was. Of course, he could have ended up as Pluto, or Uranus, so he should be grateful.
His thoughts scattered as the wind buffeted him against the chopper's open door. Below, the lights of London beckoned as the adrenaline began to pump. He grinned, nodding as the dulcet tones of Slayer blasted through the suit comms. The helicopter slowed as it flew out over the Thames, dropping lower until he could make out the people walking down Embankment.
He glanced back at the cockpit, where Luna gave him the thumbs up and a smile. He nodded, then turned back to the open door, facemask sliding up and sealing. The water waited, dark and choppy and he swallowed. It was a long way down; time to go. He cranked the volume until the music roared and grinned again, the vertigo fading as his anticipation of the night ahead grew. He unwrapped his hand from the strap and jumped.
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