Spy School: 'The Aftermath'

Unexpected Events

The Box

CIA Academy of Espionage

Washington, DC

May 24th

2000 hours

I was over one hour overdue for my release from The Box. I was getting worried, but I figured there was most likely a perfectly good explanation for it.

I succumbed to boredom long before now, resulting in my completion of around half of my makeup work. I made three paper airplanes with scrap paper. I was even considering pulling a Castaway, naming the plastic plant, and drawing a face on it to keep me sane.

The room looked a mess. Apparently, the need to keep myself occupied had progressed into the room looking more like a room and not a makeshift holding cell turned-to-living-quarters.

Another hour passes.

Okay, what's going on?

I was pacing my small enclosed room, apprehensive and nervous.

My mind raced with potential possibilities. What if they forgot about me? What if something terrible happened and I'm down here oblivious?? What if-

My anxious thoughts were forcibly interrupted when the cell door swung open, with so much force that it made a loud clank when the door hinges hit their limit and slammed into the walls of The Box. Someone was obviously present in the doorway, and it wasn't Erica.

I had an inkling as to who this person could possibly be. A certain man who wore a sweatshirt, sweat pants, and a still unresolved emotion.

Resentment.

I tried to talk it out with him, knowing of the reasons for his attack and animosity regarding me in the first place.

"It doesn't have to be—"

I didn't get to finish my sentence before he charged at me. From the few seconds I saw of him before, and compared to now, he didn't look as anxious. He looked angry, and far more adamant on kidnapping, (though most likely murdering)—me.

I charged him too, using the element of surprise and unpredictability. We both crashed to the floor, trying to get the upper hand in the fight. I curved my right arm around him, pressing my shoulder into his neck while he was underneath me, while I flattened his left arm under my weight.

I only held for about six seconds, which was when he managed to squirm out of my hold, grip my arm, and brandish me in a chokehold.

His face wasn't that far from the back of my head, allowing me to attempt a headbutt. I did it a few times, and heck, his nose was likely broken, but still held on tight.

I had to think of something, and quick. The pressure on my neck was starting to become a problem.

An idea came to me.

I leaned backward, shoving all my weight to the right. The mix of movement and direction was enough to loosen his hold on me, throwing both of us off balance, rendering us on the ground. I, luckily, landed on top of him.

I used this to my advantage and started to land collision after collision on his face with my knuckles. He had tried to intercept my blows with his arms, but I still caused enough damage to make my knuckles and his face a bruised and bloodied mess until his arms dropped to the floor and he stopped moving.

My relieved self rolled off the unconscious body that lay amid my room, heaving out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

I (tried) to stand up, but the back of my knee induced a shooting pain every time I put any weight on it. My knee gave out, I stumbled backward, almost falling again, but my hand caught myself on the mattress.