Agent Carter: Snakes and Ghosts

Chapter 1: "Sir, are you alive?"

I am really excited to start this project. I have summerbreak for another 5 weeks with absolutely nothing to do. So instead of doing things my parents find useful, I write this at 3 A.M. because why not?

Anyways, enjoy!

English isn't my first language by the way, so don't be too harsh on me (:

"Mister Thompson, are you still there?" Sonya knocked on the door of room 208. It was the second time she had knocked.
She did not have the time for this. Her shift was ending at six and of course, five minutes before the end, The Boss had to let her clean the room of the guy who was late leaving. He was such a pain in the neck.

"Mister Thompson?" She asked again, her patience lessening and lessening, "If you do not open the door, I will have to come in."

She waited for thirty seconds but still, no response.

"I am coming in, sir." As she threw the door open, hoping its crash with the metal trolley filled with cleaning products would wake the guest up.

My god, he's passed out drunk. She rolled her eyes and pushed him on his back. At first, she didn't notice the wound on his shoulder. It was the blood she saw first. His shirt was drenched in it. Panic flashed in her eyes and her breath quickened. Sonya kneeled next to the man and undid his blouse. It was then that the wound was visible for her. It must've hit the aorta or something.

"Sir, are you alive?"

No response.

"Sir?" She shouted at him again, "Squeeze my hand. Sir? Mister Thompson?"

Again, no response.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Sonya crawled over the body and reached for the phone. Tears were falling down her cheeks as she tried to contact the police.

"What can I help you with?" The man on the other side of the line asked.

"T-There's a man here." Sonya sniffed, "He's dead. Shot."

The voice became all of a sudden more urgent. "Where are you, miss?"

"The Palm Tree Hotel."

"The Palm Tree Hotel. Go, go go." The man shouted indistinctly. "What's your name?"

"Sonya Wilson."

"Okay, Sonya, do you know if he's dead?"

"I think so. H-He did not respond to my voice in any way."

"Okay, okay. Do you know who the man is, Sonya?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me his name?"

"Jack Thompson. He was a guest here, stayed here for a week or so. I-I don't quite remember" She whispered.

"Sonya, my men are there in about a minute. It will be okay-"

The stomping of footsteps and a loud voice barking over every sound was enough to alarm Sonya that her boss would arrive in a second. "Somebody, tell me what is going on, or I will flip my wig!"

"Who's that?" The cop urged, when he got no answer he asked again. Louder and louder before Sonya told him it was her boss.

"Rickey o Riley," The little man with greasy black hair gasped, "What on earth?"

It wasn't long before three agents arrived on the scene. "Step away from the body."

The boss huffed before leaving and Sonya notified the agent on the phone and then stepped out of the room.

She pressed herself against the wall but soon fell to the ground, because her legs were unable to support her. She hugged her legs and she cried softly.