Frostbitten

There’s nothing like the feeling of waking up to that sound.

My eyes shoot open only a few hours after I was finally able to fall asleep. The hustle and bustle of this part of town is enough to keep anyone awake, but only that sound could send me sprinting across the room at this hour.

I finally grab the phone from the bottom of my bag and hold it in my hand another instant before answering. This phone… this sound means another mission has come. Within the next five minutes, I could be heading anywhere in the world to do any sort of task the Agency sees fit… and this could all result in pleasure or pain.

My heart pounds in my head as I accept the call and breathe out the familiar words, “This is Agent 99774, code name Frostbyte.”

My anxiety that had skyrocketed as the phone rang is now in a free fall as I listen to the details of my mission. This was the kind of mission I had hoped for all my life; no killing, no spying, and no blackmail… nothing that was usually on my agenda.

I hang up the phone and want to dance, but instead I start packing my bags. Finally, a mission I could be proud to complete- training a new recruit. Okay, so maybe it’s not as honorable as building an orphanage, but I would never be allowed to do anything like that. In my field, training is the closest we can get to being altruistic.

I glance over my studio apartment one last time before shutting the door. I wish it felt more like a home to me, but I rarely get to stay more than three days here. With a sigh, I lug my bag down three flights of stairs and jog down the road waiting for the Agency’s car to catch up with me.

So, a new recruit. I wonder where they might have picked her up, and whether she was one of the crazies who volunteers for this life. Of all the agents I have rubbed shoulders with, only two had volunteered. The rest were taken like I was.  But I seem to be the one taken with the most force- the Agency didn’t burn down anyone else’s entire village.

I still wish I knew why I was targeted and taken. I’m not a warrior. I mean, I definitely look the part. I can throw some punches and slit some throats when I need to. But in my heart, I feel more like a damsel in distress, or like a small silly girl dreaming of the life she thinks she deserves- a beautiful home in the mountains of Alaska, close enough to my parents’ graves to pay them a visit every week.

I aggressively wipe the tears out of my eyes- I may let myself be pathetic on the inside, but that doesn’t mean I can let the world see me cry. I have a reputation, after all. 

It starts to worry me that the car hasn’t found me yet. Usually I can only make it two blocks before someone comes to take me to the airport. I pull my notebook out of my purse and realize I had acted hastily in my excitement to do good- I wasn’t meant to leave for another few hours.

Great, just great, I think as I shiver as the wind blows up snow from the ground. I turn and see the only place that could be open at this hour- a Starbucks. I’m not surprised as I open the door to find only one other person inside- a blurry eyed worker in his green apron. He smiles sleepily when he see me and says “Something to fight the cold?”

I quickly ask for a hot chocolate and pass him the exact change before he can finish typing out the order. When he sees my money, he smiles and says “This one’s on me if you agree to tell me your story.”

I hiss back “I guess it’s on me then” but he just laughs and pushes my payment back into my hands.

As he makes my hot chocolate, I consider playing into his stupid game, if only to see what it might be like to have a friendly conversation with someone who doesn’t have access to nuclear plans.

“So, what’s your name?” he asks smoothly, finally passing me my cup.

“I’m… I’m Finn.” I say, blushing at the fact that not even my name feels like mine anymore.

“Finn… that’s adorable. I’m Isaac. So, what do you do?”

I murder the innocent and balance the fate of many small countries in my pale hands, I think. But instead I say, “Oh, I travel a lot. I work for a worldwide company so I’m kind of all over the place.”

“That sounds amazing!” Isaac says warmly, and he seems to really mean it.

Talking to Isaac is so easy. I don’t remember ever talking to someone without a hidden agenda. He is friendly and smiles widely, and somehow he makes me want to smile back. Before we know it, two hours have passed and we know each other better than any team of secret agents could.

I excuse myself to go to the bathroom as he turns to take the orders of a group of men who walked through the door, looking like they are on their way to work. I amuse myself by contemplating ways to fake my death to the Academy and working at Starbucks with Isaac. Sadly, there is no escape from my life, though it has been fun to be normal for a few hours. As I crack open the door to leave, I suddenly hear something I was almost expecting, but not entirely prepared for.

The men weren’t on their way to work. They were hard at work… robbing Isaac of everything in the register. It can’t have been much money, especially since he wouldn’t take any of mine, but Isaac was still trying to fight for it. Stupid boy.

“Please, no. Take anything you want, but I just can’t listen to your orders.”

“Then we don’t need you around here, do we boy?” a dark voice howls at Isaac and I see the tallest and thickest of the men raise his gun up to Isaac’s head. Acting on pure instinct and adrenaline, I run at the man and trip him; his bullet ricochets against the ceiling but does no harm.

“There she is, men, I told you!” the dark voice shouts, and I understand they didn’t want money… they were after something much more valuable.

Me.

I pull a gun from my ankle holster and shoot three of the four men surrounding the leader; three heavy thuds tell me the bullets found their targets.

“Isaac! Get back!” I yell, jumping over the counter like a madwoman, sending cups and straws flying. I make sure he is in a safe spot beneath the counter and whisper an apology but no explanation. I spring up, swinging my lucky blade, and glare at the men, challenging them. I don’t want to kill them before I know why they came for me and how they found me in a Starbucks in the middle of Manhattan.

The last of the tall man’s guards springs toward me with a knife; he regretted that decision the rest of his short life as he clung to his bleeding neck on the floor. I turn back to the man in charge and roar “Who are you?!”

“Agent, agent, agent,” he says with a heavy accent I can’t quite identify. “Surely you know I cannot tell you that. Just know that we are many and that you will be the next to die.”

Before I can react, he pulls his gun to his own head and shoots.

Without batting an eye, I run to the men and start looking through their pockets for clues… I need something to tell the academy or they will write it off as another empty threat from a group of wannabe terrorists. Each man has a similar tattoo on their left hand- something curled around and looking almost squid-like. It’s not a symbol I have ever seen before, but I make a mental note of it.

I forget about Isaac until I hear him whimpering and look to see him staring at me in shock.

“I….I…” I stammer. “I’m sorry. For the mess. And for scaring you. I never should’ve come here.”

“Who are you… really?” he whispers with fear.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. That information is worth more than both our lives.”

I walk toward him and hand over a $50.

“That’s for the hot chocolate, and for the mess. I’m sorry, I would help you clean up, but my ride just got here and I have to go.” I signal to the driver, pick up my bags, and start to make for the door.

Then I run back and kiss Isaac, for good measure. I kiss him passionately, and he kisses me back, as though we have been dating for years. Too many things run through my head, too many thoughts to put into words, so I just put them into a kiss on his lips and a squeeze of his hand, hoping he understands, before I run and jump into the back of the car, which pulls away before I even shut the door.

“Rough morning, agent?” the driver asks, seeing my bloodstained shoes and my running mascara.

“You wouldn’t believe it.” I say back before putting in my headphones and drowning out my reality.