"Mia Vincent… official ID, Agent Vincent," I muttered into the small hole in which I knew the super-technologically advanced microphone was placed. The dais situated at the center of the room was equipped to catalog the biotrics of every agent that cos into the building. Standard procedure.
"State your condition." The chanical voice ordered. The little box on the dais glowed green. With a nonchalant glance, I leaned forward and spoke into the microphone again.
"Ho Alone." I rolled my eye at how ridiculous this situation was. For the life of , I couldn't understand why they would keep such ludicrous codes for the assignnt status of the agents. Ho alone: currently not on a case. What had possessed the people at the top to co up with this? What was the ntal capacity of the people running the show? I wondered.
"Co in," said the voice.
If I ever found the person who blabbers into the microphone all day, I swore that I would use a spoon to gouge their eyes out of its sockets. Working a job which planted your ass on a chair all day just emotionlessly going through the motions was beyond . How this individual managed to live like this, I didn't understand.
I preferred the wild life; I loved being surrounded by guns, bombs, criminals, assassinations, and ransoms. The adrenaline these injected in was worse than any drug a human could imagine. It didn't hurt that people in my line of work earned a shit-ton of money from every mission. It was sweet when the money would 'magically' transfer into my bank account minutes after I had completed my task. All in all, life was good and I would have it no other way.
The large tallic fra hissed as it unlocked. The view of a similar view behind it greeted . I huffed in frustration, wondering why I had to go through this torturous security system all the ti even though everyone knew here already.
'Perks of the job,' I reminded myself.
Not many people have the guts to turn themselves into a new person every day and kill rcilessly for a beautiful amount of money. It was that easy. Get in, fool, kill, get out. If I could, I would compare the experience to that of playing a videoga—you could choose your avatar and the weapons you use, you had your missions and you felt a thrill on winning against your opponent. Only, it was better in real life; the graphics were no doubt excellent and the options in modes of combat were not restricted.
As maniacal as it may sound to the ears of others, I truly enjoyed the thrill of a job well done. I loved the adrenaline rushing through my veins and the sight of warm blood seeping down my victim's face as I said the last prayer and closed their eyes, the tiny droplets coloring my fingertips a grotesque red. One even got used to the sll of blood: the rust like quality could grow addictive and make one want to bask in the scent of their kill, it could even make one imagine what the taste of this blood would be like, but I don't think any of the agents had the ti to hang around and quench their curiosity.
The voice in the box told to take off my clothes and get inside the sterile cubicle. I sighed as I did their bidding and grumbled about how they must have enjoyed the striptease. The scanner ca on, the red light seemingly swallowing my body as it checked for potential threats. The process was done within monts and I was back trying to put on my clothes before the next door opens. Gladly, the hissing of the door produced the sight of what seed like a private office.
The headquarters was a bewildering place all around the year. One never knew what would co next; they changed the routes and structures regularly so that no one could breach the building, but all it did was irritate the agents. We understood that it was for security purposes, but making things overly complex only invites more trouble, in my opinion. The pattern of these changes? I had never tried to discover because I did not have the ti to think about such trivial, mundane things.
The room I had entered was decorated warmly with mahogany furniture and inviting décor. Chief's personal office had only two chairs, one for him and the other for the guest. I took the empty seat and waited for the man to arrive. It was a while before a private door opened and he walked inside with a warm smile on his face.
"Mia," he greeted. "Please take a seat. I have rather important news to share with you." His deanor told that there was sothing very wrong with the scenario.
"I hope everything is well."
He dismissed my words and offered a glass of water.
I shook my head.
"Good… This ti I am hoping you will be able to hold your cover for longer. Anthony Murray is your next target, and we expect a full dossier about him. Your mission will be to get us inside information about who the key figures in his organization are and how it functions. I need Murray's private history. And for that, you will have to get close to him."
I raised an eyebrow. Anthony Murray's na was one that I couldn't forget even if I tried.
'I was going after Anthony Murray.'
"May I ask the purpose of extracting this information?"
"You seem curious!" He seed delighted that I had reacted positively to the assignnt.
"I like to know why I am doing what I am doing, and when I am doing it." My voice was strong, and it surprised the Chief.
"Simply because he has remained hidden from the public eye for the past twelve years. We have little information on him and it is only limited to his na, his location, and a few other details on his family."
"When do I have to kill him?" I asked, a little more enthusiastic than I should be.
"When we have all the information we need." He looked at like I was an idiot.
Well, my question was sowhat stupid.
I wanted Anthony gone as fast as it was possible.
"Thank you… I should probably leave," I said as I stood up awkwardly. I was almost out of the door when I heard him call again.
"Mia," I turned to look at him. "I want you to ruin him. He has to pay for what he did to your mother. Make him regret that he ever ca near lody or you." I forced a smile on my face and nodded.
"Billy, I promise you, he will not die without regretting each and every mistake he has ever made. I will use everything you have taught to annihilate him."
"By the way, I hear that he has a thing for brunettes," he teased.
"At last! I found a guy who doesn't love blondes. I can be again!" He joined in laughter. I bid him farewell, my jolly façade slipping away as I left the room. I was back to being myself.
My feet slid against the concrete as I dragged them. The lights overhead flickered. The roads were deserted. It was an image of desolation.
My mind flooded with mories.
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