Agent (Book 1)

Chapter 16-Nolan

16

Nolan Hood

Agent: 21

Mission: Not Applicable

Location: Unknown

Date: September 1st

Time: 0900

I resurface as a tray of food is being slid under the door.

I'm not hungry, despite the several hours I've been unconscious. The stiffness in my limbs makes it hard to move, and shuffling over to the door is almost too much of a struggle. My forehead is drenched in sweat by the time I scoot over to the tray, but I stuff my hands in the mashed potatoes and shove them down my throat before I can talk myself out of it. It takes a few moments of swallowing to make sure I can hold it down, but I refuse to let it be for nothing. Who knows how long before the next meal?

I force myself to eat the other sustenance on the tray (what appears to be a few slices of dried pear) and scoot back to my regular position against the wall.

I lay there for a few minutes, struggling to collect my thoughts, unable to clear my head. Things feel...off. Like the world has been titled on its axis. Or a sheen of dew has been draped over everything, giving it a light sparkle. The sense of security, the control I had...they've already managed to rip that away.

I've no idea how long it's been when the door opens again, but it's the same man I'd talked with yesterday, striding into the room. His face is exposed again, but I don't let his appearance intimidate me. His beady eyes are that of a birds; calculative. Devious. I bet he's already got the plan mapped out in his head. Every possible thing that might make me talk.

"Now that you've eaten, I think it's time you answer a few of my questions," he says, pushing aside my empty tray with his foot.

A shock of flame races through my side as I attempt to straighten my shoulders, but it only strengthens my answer. "You're wasting your time. You'll have to kill me before I'll talk," I spit through gritted teeth, forcing my eyes to remain on his. It's already getting to me, the darkness I've found in them. No ones eyes can be that black. That unnerving.

The man (Scar Face, I decide to call him) does not look the least bit concerned by my response. "I'd expect that kind of an answer from you," he admits. "But you seem reasonable enough. You know what's going to happen." And suddenly, his face is only centimeters away from mine again.

It takes all of my effort not to spit up all over him, because I can see the skin flaking from his scars, and everything about him is just so...revolting. He slowly turns his head to the side, lips only inches away from my earlobe. "If you think you're going to die a noble death here, you're wrong," he breathes. "Answers are not the only thing you're good for." He steps away and begins pacing in front of me.

I exhale sharply when he's gone. The tensing of my muscles has forced too much strain upon the injury. I can already feel the fire rising again. "Can you just...give me a little warning beforehand?" I ask, not at all surprised by the weakness in my words— but all too surprised by the carelessness in them. It comes out like a strangled whisper; I can't force it any louder.

Scar Face doesn't acknowledge my question, doesn't even meet my gaze. "The world has always been divided," He begins. "To those with power, and those with nothing." His hands are held together behind his back, but they begin to twitch awkwardly. "The Kings have always hoped to show the world that there is not one, single government. That the country can be lead together, hand in hand."

The words rush out of my mouth before he can continue, even weaker than the last. "And murder is helping you out with that? You think that's what's going to convince us to change?"

Scar Face's shoulders stiffen and he glares at me from the corner of his vision. "I wouldn't expect you to understand the elaborate measures we've had to—"

I cut him off again. "So killing innocent people is—"

"SILENCE!" Scar Face bellows, slamming his knuckles against the wall. I jump at the change of volume but he doesn't seem to notice. His chest heaves in the effort to control himself, and he drops his head so it is shielded by the cloak hood. "The only way to reach our goal, is in a new world. A world with people who will understand," He says. He turns a dangerous eye in my direction.

"And I'm only going to ask you this one more time, boy," he says. "What is your name?"

For a moment, I prepare to spit out another fake reply, but close my mouth. There is no use lying anymore. No use telling him the truth either. I would never tell him the truth.

To my surprise, Scar Face only smiles at me, striding to the other side of the room once more. "What a shame," he murmurs. "Maybe next time you'll understand."

He turns to the door, settling his fingers against the handle, but I stop him. "How did you know where to find us?" I ask. The question has been lurking in the back of my mind. If they knew that they'd accidentally left that computer chip at ACA Headquarters, than they had to know that agents would be sent to Division 9. But...did they see us coaxing the people under the streets? Did we—Agent Fifty-three and I—blow our covers?

Scar Face does not remove his hand from the door handle, but replies in the quietest of whispers. "Everything that has happened to you and your people— it's happened for a reason." Then, before I can mumble a response, he's bolted the door and left the room.

I slump back against the wall, frustration turning my cheeks fiery hot. How did they know who we were? Were we not discreet enough?

Huffing, I let my head thump against the wall and study the ceiling of the room. Dark, concrete. I'd need tools to bust myself out of this one. And that's even if I was able to get up. I sigh, and turn my gaze back down again, when a small shade of lighter gray catches my eyes. My head flies back up, and focuses on the small lens of a camera, staring down at me from the upper right-hand corner. I can't believe I hadn't noticed it before (all of my agent training has taught me to be especially observant), but I don't allow myself to feel too bad, since I'm obviously not in the best of shape. The eye of the camera lens is focused on my body.

Then, it hits me. If The Kings are trying to create a new world, and they believe that this is the way to do it, then there's one major threat. Of course there had to be a reason for breaking into ACA Headquarters. There had to be a reason for the death of Commander Pyle...

It's so obvious, now that I think about it. The Kings meant to leave that computer chip at HQ. They meant to reel us in, to ensure the presence of agents in Quarter 9 for them to snatch...

And that means, they're going to let the ACA see this footage of me. They want to reel the agents in, so that they're locked and ready for ultimate decimation.

That means, I must be the bait.