"Sam, it's time for you to get up and eat your breakfast! It may be winter break but that doesn't mean you get to sleep your day's away!"

I shoot up with a small snort at the sound of voices and clanking dishes and look around, wrappers of last night's "dinner" falling out of my lap and onto the floor. I push hair away from my face as I blink, trying to get my bearings. The wrappers crunch underfoot as I move my chair closer to my desk, wiping it clear of crumbs and paper shavings.

The seven screens in front of me showed a family of three slowly milling about their home, yawning, scratching their heads, and looking far more rested than I felt. I rub my eyes and yawn too, shaking my head to get rid of the last bit of sleep that tugged at me to go back to sleeping uncomfortably on the chair. But I have a job to do.

Camera 1 zooms in on twelve-year-old Sam Wilkins as he came stumbling out of his room and rubbing his face awake. His sandy blond hair was everywhere and in need of a haircut. His brown eyes look tired but as soon as he smells the bacon his mom, Carrie, was cooking, they grow wide and fill with excitement. His crooked teeth appear in an adorable adolescent smile as he rushes over to the table and helps himself to some waffles and orange juice. Sam's dad, Troy, walks in and ruffles his son's hair, taking the seat next to him.

My stomach growls as I watch Carrie bring the rest of the food to the table. Checking my watch, I gauge about ten minutes to myself before I had a long day's work of screening ahead of me. Giving the eating family one last look over, I get up and hurry to clean up and get ready for the day.

One would think my job as an 'asset supervisor' wouldn't be that hard. Sitting around, wearing whatever I want, not needing to talk to anyone, blast my music around the house, eat on the clock. Yeah, it's not too bad.

But FBI agents don't get many breaks. Especially when they are assigned to watch high-level intelligent children. I haven't had a break in nearly four years. But I'm not complaining.

Sam was eight when the DCP, Director of Children's Progress approached me with my first COI, Child of Importance. They would have assigned me earlier but we were in the middle of our second WW3 scare of the past year and they didn't want to lose Sam's location should his family take action like millions of other families did during the scare. They would disconnect from the world and we would lose our eyes and ears on our assets in our operation.

We lost nearly four thousand COI's during the second scare. Since then we have been trying harder and harder to keep the war scares out of the ears of the COI's vicinity by expanding our divisions and assigning people to the parents of the children just to make sure they didn't do anything rash that would cause us to lose our assets. However, Sam's parents weren't given Supervisors. Part of me is under the impression that was because not many people in the Saving Young America (SYA) division of the FBI believe Sam to be of any importance.

That may or may not be due to the fact I have not reported all my findings, or at least not to the SYA general public. Only the DCP knows of Sam's real potential and because of that I am nearly one hundred percent sure I have a Big Brother of my own to make sure I don't go against the DCP.

But how can I just sit here and watch this twelve-year-old beat round after round of his army first-person shooter game, Soldier's Guild: Master Of War. Sam picked up the game two years ago and has beat every level at least four times. For the first year or so he had a hard time beating levels, making the right choices, and saving all his teammates. Then slowly, I watched as he adapted and learned, making split decisions that even my friends in the barracks wouldn't have known to do in such situations.

Now, Sam can save every single one of his teammates and leave every civilian unscathed. No casualties. I watched him play that way for two months straight. Then he got bored of it. His friends would come over and they would play and he'd play easy for them, let them have a chance to be the main leader and call the shots. But I could tell he wasn't finding it fun anymore.

So that was when I intervened. My brother is a game developer and had some old programs laying around from old war tactics. With a bit of bribery and a promise to watch his kids next time the Wilkin's went out of town, he sent me over three hundred new gaming mods with real-life war scenarios and environments. Real-life men and women of the past who had died for us, real life missions that succeeded and failed.

But I wanted to see how Sam would have handled those situations had he been in charge of the troops and their tactics.

So today, I plan on hacking into the game's shop and implant this "New Downloadable Content" for him to see. Three free run-throughs and if he beats them, in a timely manner, I plan on giving him all two hundred and ninety-seven scenarios.

"Mom, I finished the dishes. Can I play my games now?"

I come stumbling into my office, hopping on one leg as I struggle to put on my other sock, cursing my cold house. I watch as Carrie nods and clears the table with Troy's help and Sam practically skips to the gaming console. I plop down on my chair and bring up the game he was gearing up to play. I let him mess around with a round or two, seeing how he was feeling today.

After an hour I was satisfied with which of the DLC's I wanted him to play on first. With just a few taps of my keys, I sent a pop up to his screen detailing the DLC pack and the stipulations to getting all the new maps and levels. I smile to myself as Sam sits up and his eyes wide as a smile grows on his lips. I sat back and got comfortable as I watch him pick a game and set up his character.

"This is so weird. That pathetic thing isn't going to save you from gas." Sam shook his head, looking at the WW1 gas masks and flipping through the old guns. "I am so going to die."

I smirk, opening a bag of Chex mix, tossing a piece up in the air and catching in my mouth. "I sure hope you do," I mumble.

Three hours later and he beats the first DLC level. I sit there staring at his screen as he got up and danced around, celebrating. Three hours. He only played the level four times, winning it on the fourth. But that wasn't what surprised me. Yes, he died three times and lost men when he won but out of the three new DLCs, he picked the one that was a failed mission. I made sure to tell my brother to make the men have human tendencies and make the same mistakes as they did when it really happened. I even checked the code to make sure.

Sam passed an impossible mission.

I rake my hands through my short black hair, letting out a breath as Sam picked another of the levels, his grin still in place. I don't watch him play this next one, my mind reeling from the first game. I get up and go to my bedroom, searching frantically for my burner phone, the phone I'm only supposed to use in an emergency.

I find it under my bed and just in time to hear Sam's excited yelling from the office, my eyes closing in resolution.

I am going to have to call this in. The Director is going to have to know about this. Sam could save lives.

I enter the office again and look back at the footage of his second game as he played the third and last "trial run" game. I toggle through the footage, my own smile pulling at my lips. I feel like the proudest big sister in the world. He was able to save most of his men, the ones he lost he lost to wounds or infections, no casualties of poor leadership or planning.

With practiced ease, I pull up all the gameplay recordings I found to be the most impressive, condense them into a single folder and send it to the Director, his eyes only. With that sent, I turn back to Sam, his eyes glued to the screen.

I shake my head as he beat the level. Five hours. It took him five hours to finish three games.

Insane.

Sam stood and ran to his mother, going on and on about this new DLC and how he has to have it. I program the game pop-up to flash, drawing his attention. I type out a single sentence that I hoped didn't sound too creepy.

Congratulations Supersoildersammy80, you completed all three of the free DLC games and won the rest of the DLC expansion pack!

I need him to play the other games. I need to see how he will handle all the other one hundred and eighty- two impossible levels. I want to believe that he could someday save our men.

~~~~~~

I stare at the screen of my computer at this morning's batch of emails. One was from the Director. And he wasn't happy. I rub my face and roll my eyes, clicking out of the page, Sam's face filling my screen as he looked at his iPad playing Clash of Clans.

I was denied the permission to scout Sam into an elite class for older kids who show signs of potentially being an FBI or CIA shadow. Despite Sam playing the new game levels for nearly two months now and winning every single one of them, forty-eight of them being impossible missions, SYA didn't think that he could be any use to us. He was still too young.

"Too young, my a-"

"Mom, I don't feel so good."

My eyes fly to Sam's large face, looking over every single feature, worry gripping at my middle. But I only found him wincing pathetically, his eyes downcast as he wheezes out a fake cough. I smile knowingly, my worry ebbing away but never fully leaving. That booger wanted to stay home from school and play more of that game.

Good.

I quickly move to one of my other computers, the one connected to Carrie's phone, and sent it a message about the school warning parents to keep kids home if they exhibit any sort of illness for the sake of not spreading it at school. It was more or less the truth, seeing as how the new year brought about a new set of illnesses.

Knowing full well Mrs. Hyper-Aware would buy into it, I tapped Sam's face and winked. "You owe me one, buddy." I snorted. "Along with about a thousand more."

With bedtime nearing, I left the boy to shower and change as I go to make a phone call.

I pace around my kitchen as the phone rings on the other end, my shoulders pinching from being tense all day. Finally, they pick up, my shoulders relaxing.

"Giovanni, is your husband home?"

Sobbing greeted me, making me pause. My back shivered and my blood ran cold.

"Giovanni?" I asked gently. "What happened."

"Sawyer is..." she hiccuped, crying harder, "He went missing. Him and his troops. I-I was told not to track him but now- now I am afraid he-he-he,"

"Shhh, Anni, it's going to be alright. I am sure they hit a Silent Zone. He was tasked with retrieving COI 370, right?"

"Yes," she sniffs, sounding a bit more under control, "I was supposed to go with the Initial Convoy but with my pregnancy just starting to show, DCP vetoed it."

I let out an annoyed breath. "I got vetoed too. My COI may be able to-" I pause, my eyes watching as Sam got into bed and his mom kissed his forehead, whispering for him to sleep well and get plenty of rest tomorrow as she and Troy are at work. Suddenly an idea formed. "Anni, I am going to need you to give me the information on that Convoy trip and anything you know about your husband's disappearance."

"Juliet, what do you have planned? I know that voice. You are going to be breaking more rules aren't' you."

I nearly laughed. "Sorry Anni, I know how you like rules. I promise not to let the info be traced back to you."

"As soon as little Daisy comes, you are Caleb first."

I smile at the thought of watching her first born. "Sounds like a fun time. Chin up hon, Sawyer is a strong guy. If anyone can keep their men alive, it would be him."

"Thank you, Juliet. I'll send the information now. Just don't get caught, I like having a best friend in this crazy job we have."

I nod though I know she can't see it. "Yeah. Me too." Then I hung up, stuffing my phone in my pocket.

Not five minutes later my screens fill with all of Giovanni's mission information as well as her husband's, though most of it was redacted. But that won't stop me from piecing things together and setting up the right scenario for Sam to play tomorrow.

~~~~~~~

"Holy cow! These new guns are going to make playing the other levels like fighting with rocks and wooden clubs."

I snort at Sam's comment, knowing full well our soldiers today would have said something similar if they were forced to fight with WW1 and 2 weapons. I take a sip of my coke, wincing at the carbonation tingling down my throat.

I had been watching Sam for nearly four hours, my poorly executed rendition of Sawyers mission playing on the screen. I shake my head and text my brother, begging him to make me one more game.

But just as I was about to push 'send' my phone buzzed and the DCP's name flashed on my screen. I look at Sam as I answer the call. The Director has never called my personal cell phone before.

"Director, I thought we were to keep calls off our personal cells."

"And I thought I told you NOT to scout the boy!" His voice boomed in my ear, making me wince and pull the phone away slightly.

I blinked. "Sir, I haven't suited him. I have spoken to no one about him other than you and my brother."

"I hate when you talk to your brother. You know that right?"

"Well aware sir. But Johnathan is no threat, he just liked programming."

"I don't care what he likes. He is to have nothing to do with your COI any longer. We are in an emergency lockdown. Do not leave your house. We have security in place at COI 445's home. His parents are at work correct?"

I turn to look at the security feeds around the house, recognizing a few of the undercover agents I had gone to training with. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, aren't you going to ask me why we are in lockdown?"

I shake my head, slightly confused. But before I can reply, the Director started shouting again.

"Probably not, because YOU ALREADY KNOW WHY! You broke the rules and got the information, somehow, and now know about the ambush before even I knew about it."

I stand up, the hairs on my arms standing on end. "Sir, when did you find out?"

He lets out a tired breath and I can tell he has been contemplating resigning again. "Just under ten minutes ago. I need you to pull those files for me, on the boy and his games. Can I believe what you are telling me? Is COI 445 truly that talented?"

I nod my head then stamper out a verbal reply, my eyes wide and blinking as I try to understand his dejected tone. "Y-yes, sir. I have watched him for days now, weeks. He has won every level, even the ones historically recorded as impossible or failed."

There was a pause before he spoke again. "This stays between you and me."

I pause in my rush to send him the files I had already prepared for him. "So I don't have a tag on me?"

There was a tired laugh from the other end. "No matter how many times I thought to put a scope on you I couldn't bring myself to do it.

I made an impressed face, frowning appreciatively. "Thank you, sir. There I sent you all I have on him. What would you like me to do?"

"You are going to give that boy this link. Get him to play it."

My computer flashes as a new email arrives. I click on it and find the link. I then got busy turning it into a "hidden" level easy for Sam to find.

"May I ask what it is, sir?" My heart is racing and my hands are sweating.

The Director let out a low breath and cleared his throat. "The exact scenario of Captain Brook and his troops. Down to the very last enemy's position. The link is live and moves with high-level predictive algorithms that Agent Procter had a long time in the making. As things change in real life they will change in the game. Send me a live feed of the boy's play through. I am hoping to save these men and bring them home."

My heart stopped and my fingers froze at hearing his words. Sam is their only way of seeing these men home and he can't know about it. I bite my lip out of fear, fear that Sam will fail, give up, or find the gameplay too different to want to move on. He is only twelve and thought himself clever to get out of school just to play more games. But he is all they have.

"Understood. Standby for live feed."

My hands shake as I set up the link and send Sam the game. I watch with bated breath as he notices the game and clicks into it.

Sawyer's face appears and gives Sam a little background pep talk into the mission, explaining what has happened and what he needs to do. Sam sits up and pushes back his shoulders, his eyes training on the enemy soldiers, no doubt committing the enemy to memory. I lean back in my chair and start biting my nails, my body tense.

"Alright, soldier!" Shouted Sawyer's character, his CGI face pinched in captain authority, "It's time to show those sacks of soiled caviar who runs this place. HOORAH!"

Sam stood and pumped his fist. "HOORAH!"

I nod my head and raise my own fist. "Good luck, little brother. Hoorah."

Then he pushed play, the sounds of guns shooting, men shouting, and heavy vehicles driving around with manned guns. I have heard these sounds hundreds of times before but I never felt like crying, like taking Sam into my arms and shielding him from what he was seeing, from what he was doing, until now.