Spy School and the Dead Agent

Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Alaska

0430 Hours

Friday

CIA

Training Facility, Alaska

Have you ever wanted to sleep in on a Friday, only to be dragged out of bed because your parents are catching an early flight? Or had to wake up early for a crucial final exam? Now, imagine that, but ten times worse. Because If I don't wake up on time, I'm pretty much dead meat.

The blaring sound of my alarm jolted me from my groggy state. I'd set it to mimic the sound of bullets, ensuring I'd wake up without fail. It didn't entirely work; I still felt tired, but I forced myself up regardless. Oh, I forgot to introduce myself, didn't I? My name is Ben Ripley. I'm a fourth-year CIA agent in training and I have exceptional mathematical skills, capable of performing complex calculations, formulas, and equations almost instantaneously. This probably was one of the key reasons I was selected for the academy. Initially, I was meant to be a Patsy—a bait to catch a Double Agent. However, upon discovering the true nature of my role, I demonstrated my value to the top brass by successfully completing several unofficial missions, ultimately proving myself as a legitimate agent and earning my place within the academy.

After dragging myself out of bed, I shuffled to the kitchen and blended blueberries and milk to make my morning shake. I cranked the blender to its loudest setting, knowing it would wake up my partner and best friend, Mike Brezinski. Mike and I have been inseparable since before spy school. He's loyal, friendly, athletic and ridiculously handsome. He's always had my back, whether it was dealing with bullies or sneaking out for a late-night hangout. Mike wasn't supposed to be in the academy either. He thought I was attending a prestigious science school called St. Smithens, the Academy's cover.

During my early days at the CIA academy, we barely saw each other. When he tried to spring me from the academy to attend my former crush's party, he somehow snuck in and was apprehended by the special forces stationed there. That was his first clue that I wasn't at a science academy. Later, on a mission in Colorado, he "coincidentally" found me and inadvertently complicated our operation by flirting with my team's target. He finally realized I was an actual spy when an attack helicopter ambushed us.

I made two shakes—one for Mike and one for me—then headed to the table to set them down. I reluctantly took a bath, bracing myself for the icy water that always felt like a cold bucket being dumped on me. After my frigid shower, I changed into a green t-shirt, tactical cargo pants, and heavy boots.

Next, I checked on my best friend, who was still snuggling with his pillow and fast asleep, probably dreaming about his girlfriend, Trixie Hale. She's stunningly beautiful, but I'll get to that later. Seeing Mike still in dreamland, I gave his back a hard punch.

It worked. He instantly woke up, confused about who attacked him. Once he calmed down and saw me standing there, he made a mock disgusted face.

"Really? I thought we were friends. I didn't know this was how friends treated each other," he said, feigning sadness.

I groaned at him. "Mike, if you're still asleep when Cyrus enters the cabin, you're going to run the entire Alaskan border with rabid dogs chasing you."

Mike scratched his head, smiled, then his smile turned to confusion and worry. "Wait, it's FRIDAY?" he asked, stunned. I facepalmed.

Friday was our Weekly Graded Task, overseen by Cyrus Hale. Cyrus is a superior, talented, and cranky veteran CIA field agent who was supposed to be retired but was brought back into service due to some complications that may or may not involve me. He's also a descendant of Nathan Hale, the Famous American spy from colonial times. This weekly graded task, which Cyrus simply calls "the gauntlet," is a compilation of tasks we've practiced and honed over the past few days. We were going to run a modified obstacle course designed specifically for us.