I was sent to capture the CIA's most wanted fugitive.
But things took a tragic turn,
My entire team was murdered before my eyes, and I was kidnapped by said fugitive.
It seemed like my government had forgotten me and I became a puppet for the fugi...
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The figure, Hidalgo, with a masked face which i believe is in a twisted in a mix of curiosity, anger and menace, pockets my ID and then, to everyone's shock, gently lowers me to the floor. He leans in close, his lips almost brushing my ear, and whispers something that sends chills down my spine. The room is so silent you could hear a pin drop, the only sound the hum of the video feed.
Laurel's eyes widen as she watches. Hidalgo's actions confuse us on everything we know about him. Instead of finishing me off, he stands up, signaling to his men to retreat. They leave as swiftly as they came, leaving me battered but alive.
Director Wilcox lets out a slow breath, breaking the silence. "What did he say to you?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
I shake my head, trying to piece together the fragments of memory. "I don't know. I was unconscious." I say helplessly.
Laurel finally speaks, her voice laced with disbelief and some sort of shock? "Why would he spare you? What does he gain from this?"
I look back at the screen, replaying the moment over and over in my mind. "I don't know," I admit, feeling a mix of frustration and confusion. "But whatever his reasons, we need to find out. He has my ID, and that gives him access to too much information."
He walks away from my body, and then, he looks directly at the security camera. A few agents gasp in shock, fear? My heart seems to be beating really fast. He stares for exactly a minute, and then he just walks away-majestically and with grace if I might add.
Suddenly, my chest hurts.
The weight of the situation settles heavily on everyone in the room. We are dealing with a man who operates beyond our understanding, with motives that remain shrouded in mystery. My body aches with every breath, but my mind is sharper than ever. We need to act fast, and we need to be smarter than we ever have been before.
As they start to discuss our next steps, I can't shake the feeling that this is only the beginning. Hidalgo has plans, and I need to be ready for whatever comes next. The footage may have provided some answers, but it has also raised a thousand more questions.
Fucking Christ.
I tune the world out, trying desperately to recall what was whispered to me while I was unconscious. But how do you remember something so elusive, so faint? The question gnaws at my mind, and a chilling realization washes over me: why did he do that? Malicious reasons are the most likely answer, but what kind of malicious reasons? The more I think, the more it dawns on me. I am a target now. A target of a borderline sociopath. My chest tightens with anxiety, and my wounds throb with renewed intensity. A different kind of pain than before.
"Agent Hill." Director Wilcox's voice cuts through the haze, but it's barely an echo in my ears. Everything around me spins and yet remains eerily still at the same time.
