Agent (Book 1)

Chapter 4-Nolan

4

Nolan Hood

Agent: 21

Mission: Not Applicable

Location: ACA Headquarters, Quarter 1

Date: August 22nd, 2089

Time: 1900

Maybe Agent Fifty-three isn't as smart as I thought she was. Even now, when I haven't gotten another chance to go at it hand-to-hand with her, I feel like I've redeemed myself since our first fight. She shoots with hesitance. It was only sheer coincidence she shot down that second plate.

By the time the announcements begin, I've already scanned the cafeteria for her, with no luck. Good. Wouldn't want to exploit her arrogance anymore today.

Around me there is lots of chatter, young and old men and woman deep in relaxed conversation. I wish I could join them, but my thoughts lay elsewhere. I've heard the news, the death reports. Every day, more divisions getting targeted. Commander Pyle will be worried. She'll have taken it up with her highest agents by now. Devised some spectacular plan...

The clinking of glasses pulls my attention to the front of the room. Everyone turns to stare at the man, and though his face is unfamiliar, the insignia on his shoulder marks his position. He holds a glass up to the light.

"Tonight let us celebrate the success of the ACA these past few months," the man says with a grin. As if on cue, everyone hoots and hollers in celebration, raising their glasses up to match his own. A few of the younger boys dump their drinks on each other, laughing. I stiffen a moment, sure someone will bear down on them for such uncivilized behavior, but then I realize that it is a celebration after all, and I relax back into my seat. In fact, soon a wave of envy crashes over me. I wish I could afford to feel that way. But there's something blocking it.

The man continues. "And we owe all of our success to our Commander."

Everyone whoops again. Someone calls out her name, sloshing their drinks, beating their feet against the floor. The man points in her direction amongst the crowd, losing interest as a bucket of cold liquid runs down his back. He turns on the young man who'd dunked him, dripping.

Commander Pyle's by one of the exits. Arms crossed. Bronze ringlets falling out of their updo. Only after a moment does she raise her head and give a forced smile, like she's been engaged throughout the entire ordeal. She looks dazed. Confused.

Something's wrong. I can feel it in the air. Like spiders crawling up my back, or eyes boring into my skull. Unsettling.

Someone, although I'm not sure who, makes the final cheer. "To the ACA!" They shout. Everyone repeats, barely in unison. They raise their glasses. Clink them together. Guzzle.

I rise. The warning signals are back. Something is distinctly wrong. My instincts never lie.

But forget me. It's the Commander who knows what's coming.

I approach her cautiously. Carefully. "Commander," I say when I'm within earshot. Her eyes flit to mine, glassy. Strange. Like someone's poured a bit of pond water in them with an eye dropper. She doesn't say a word, but covers her mouth with her palm. Like a lion has suddenly grabbed a hold of her.

"Commander," I repeat.

"I know what they're doing," she says, removing her hand. Her eyes have strayed from mine, focusing on some lost point in the distance. Instinctively, I look up, only to narrow in on one of the lights on the ceiling. Flickering. For a split second, the entire room goes dark. And then, lit again. In a blink. I squint, confused. The powers never gone out before. In fact, the powers not really supposed to go out anywhere where they've got decent maintenance.