Agnes Berkshire was born with life handed to her in a silver platter, yet she still chose to run away.
Winding up in the city of London, working at an agency run by two boys with no adult supervision; in which she absolutely despises the owner.
1...
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AGNES AND ANTHONY STOOD SEPARATELY in the elevator. they had their green robes on, a mask concealing their nose and mouth so that only their eyes and eyebrows were at show.
the elevator came through a full stop with a loud thump. one of the men from Winkman's crew guided them towards the room where it all happened. they passed down a series of doors who were guarded by security. "hold it together." Lockwood whispered upon seeing Agnes's uneasy breath. "you hold it together." she retorted in the same level but emphasized the pronoun.
the hallway doors of the room they were in were locked by guards, they must've been the last ones to arrive. Mrs.Winkman appeared outside the room of the auction with a look of disgust towards the pair. Agnes was yet to decide whether the expression was frozen in her face forever as a reminder of what a raging bitch she was or if she doubted the two agents were truly bidders.
is she wearing a wig? Agnes asked herself, attempting to not burst into a cackle. she let out a small sneer though, one in which Lockwood was able to sound out by a fake, awkward cough.
suddenly inside the room where the auction took place her monstrous husband welcomed the public. the older woman faked a smile. Agnes was now seriously convinced that the woman wore a wig after paying careful attention to her hair.
"welcome, stragglers." she looked Agnes up and down before staring Lockwood deep into his eyes. "have fun." she handed Lockwood the bidding paddle, 197 its number read in a crimson color and big size. she moved out of the way so that the two could enter in which they did
"we have a plethora of items up for auction tonight, including a cigarette case found on the beaches of Dunkirk, permeated with the torment of a fallen son. the source of one of the nation's most prolific murderers, Anne-Marie Nelson." Winkman spoke as Lockwood and Agnes made their passage through the multiple hooded figures. could her father be here? Agnes asked herself, her eyes couldn't help but glance around her surroundings in fear of finding the man's tall silhouette.
"we want the mirror!" a bidder exclaimed causing different voices merge together with one objective, finding that damned mirror. "of course you do." Mrs.Winkman raised her hands which made the sudden noise stop. "and here she is. that rarity. the piece that has so exercised the hard-working people at DEPRAC these past few days." Agnes's breath hitched at finally seeing it. it was true, tangible, something that she could truly have the tips of her fingers on. so close yet so far.
would they make it past these bunch of faceless pricks who were only identified by their eyes and raging voices? past the hundreds of guards secured with rapiers and trained in martial arts? past Winkman who would surely find it hilarious the fact that these two child agents came back for more? could they? was it possible for both Anthony Lockwood and Agnes Berkshire make it back to their boat with the mirror in their possession?
