Activation Code

4: The Team

I walked into a small metal chamber off of the main corridor. The first thing I noticed that the entire team were late! They were meant to be here but I swear it was quiet and empty enough to hear a pin drop. I sighed- which seemed to be a reoccuring event these days- and sat down in one of the plush wooden chairs, ladled in soft green velvet. The metal room had been made to look homely- a failed attempt. The chairs dotted in a small circle around the room, the smiling agents' faces plastered across the walls to cover its rusty metal interior and a hard wooden floor jutting out angularly from the lower wall, hiding whatever horrible sight lay beneath it.

I lay back, thinking about the course my life had taken so far, and the tactics I may want to use for my next mission so the entire team aren't killed. Being the leader, I had to have my team's safety at heart. I also had to be responsible and to be able to answer all the questions that would be shot at me over time.

I reflected on all the injuries i'd ever got... maybe one? Or was it two? The point is, my excessive training in weaponry and martial arts had got me far in life- well, physically anyways.

My first injury had been a shot in the leg as I had been returning from my first mission. It caught me right through the bone, but after using one of the government's newly discovered- but excessively expensive- medical treatments, I was good as new. I mean, no. They hadn't dicovered the cure to cancer, to AIDS, or to any other diseases or illnesses without remedies.

But, there are simple things- maybe the one I used to seal up- without scars or pains- any ripped cartilage or skin. Small flesh or interior wounds. I knew there was also somewhere out there, a medicine that gave you an extra 20 to 30 years of age- depending on the toll your age had took already from your once young body. How do you think people lived to 111? 112 even?

They didn't just go "Gee, whiz, I suddenly have the ability to live an extra 20 years than normal people do!" Did they? No. They paid money which made them instantly bankrupt, sometimes in debt to banks.

The second injury had been a tiny flesh wound- skimming my lower calf- about two years back. It was when I was more experienced than the last time, but the enemy decided to pick his gun up and take a lousy shot at me as he bled to death- I couldn't just kill him at the youthful age of sweet sixteen could I? I let him take a chance to know when his last breaths would be and he took advantage of the situation.

Lets just say I never took any pity on an enemy again.

While I sat there and reflected on my life, as I was saying, I never noticed fifteen anxious faces hovering over mine. Three appeared to be maybe between 15 and 17, but the other twelve were abnoxious men in their mid-adulthood, clearly thinking that they were the real deal. I mean, how stupid? I liked the youngsters much better, they listened and behaved like schoolboys- which I guess they still were.

As soon as I was pulled out of my blissful slumber, I became again stone faced and took in their faces. I liked to know who I was speaking to, so I asked their names. The three lanky teens took me in and grinned foolishly. They'd have to be taught who's boss. One of the adults mumbled:

"These three candy-lickers are Thomas, Lewis and Patrick." At the sound of my uncle's name, my heart did a disgusted flip. I shook their hands firmly, flinching slightly when I noticed Patrick staring at me.

"Let me make myself clear. No fighting with eachother. No arguing. No staring at people in the wrong ways. No swearing." The latter I said sternly. Swearing was one of my pet hates. Anyone who swore under my watch was in for one tough time. "No stealing from eachother, no eating limited food unless I say. No fooling around on the job. No going against what I say. No commenting on touchy or inappropriate subjects. No drinking, no smoking. No going against the nicknames I've given you."

"But there ain't no nicknames ma'am" One of the youngsters said- Thomas I think- in a cowboy-style drawl. He must have been from the states or something. He sounded like one of the old movies- where the good-for-nothing countrymen spoke in hard Cockney accents.

"Ahh. Thats what I was about to do. Thank you for that Tommy-boy" I said pointedly, looking right at Thomas. I then looked at Lewis, "You're Luigi- like from Mario Carts" I said, causing everyone but me and Lewis to chuckle good-naturedly.

"Awww! Not fair!" Lewis said playfully, clearly not really annoyed.

"And you're...um.. Trick?" I stumbled to Patrick, not knowing how much to differ his nickname from my passed uncle. At least the name of my deceased uncle would not be uttered from my mouth. I sighed in release as 'Trick' nodded along to the nickname- something flashing in his eyes, like he had got a sensible outcome from an internal conflict within him.

"You're Sandy," I said to an adult with tan skin and sandy hair," You're Alf," I said to Ralph, a red hed with blue eyes, "You're Sue, Kia, Candy and Kay," I continued, until I had named all of the female and male Agents with some of my favourite nicknames. We had a week to settle before the mission was due to be completed, but I aimed to set off in 5 days, so that we were ensured a definite arrival at the pub called, 'Dusty Duck', near the London eye, followed by the Chrystal palace.

I was coming to name Elvis, when I saw too familiar faces behind him. My jaw literally dropped, and I apologised to him before hurrying over to the new arrivals. Ibraced myself with an angry posture, not knowing if it was truly them.

"Hello Tory." They said in a drawled unison.

Three words.

Oh.

My.

God.

This was not happening.