Bite The Bullet

Chapter 1

I slammed the door shut and sat down in my bed with a huff. I Put my headphones in, turned the music on and sat back, feeling the pulsing music flowing through me.
I looked down at my black jeans and boots, sickened at the symbolism.
He was dead.
Now I'd never be able to wear these jeans again.

There was always the risk with this job. We all knew it. Never experienced it first hand though. Never thought it'd be Ollie that went...

I hear the comms go static again and turn my music up louder.
"Agent Owen." I called into my headset.
"Agent Owen, do you copy?" you could audibly hear the panic in my voice rising. "Owen, do you read me. Over" this came through faster, rushed but ultimately, was still met with silence.
"Agent. Owen. This is Pixie. Requesting your response." I stated slowly and plainly, obviously trying to hide my spiralling emotions from my supervisors, and failing. My attempts still being met without a reply.
Agent Owen, is this a Code Jefferson?"
My supervisors now turned my way, after their sensitive hearing selected my voice, my word choice.
Follow protocol. I forced myself to remember. Though everything inside me wanted to hope the microphone close and whisper that I was still here. Me, Harley. Not Pixie, Me.
But I couldn't

Supervisors were now surrounding my unit, waiting almost as anxiously as I was, to receive a reply.
Having this many supervisors focused solely on you was a rarity. Meaning I'd drawn in the attention of many of my peers as well.

I locked eyes with , quite possibly the closest thing to a friend I had in here. He was strong, fast and fearless. Top of his classes and popular. He could be friends with anyone he wanted. He could rule this dungeon with a snap of His fingers.
So why take an interest in me?
I wasn't an anybody.

Josh's face screamed confusion with a hint of concern.
I steadied my eye contact with him and leaned into the mic.
"Agent Owen. This is our last attempt. Repeat. Final. Attempt. Before we invoke Jefferson. Again. Final. Attempt at contact. If contact is not secured. Jefferson will be invoked. Jefferson will be invoked. Agent Owen. Response required. Response. Required. Agent-" my voice faltered as I watched the pity plaster itself upon Josh's face, as silence was still my only response.

Two supervisors leaned forward and inserted their keys into the two symetrical slots and simultaneously rotated them, producing a silver casing that looked almost as menacing as what was inside.
Another supervisor stepped forward and placed his thumb firmly on top if the cool metallic box. Moments later, the box came apart at all seams and revealed the delicate, small and seeminly fragile item with holding enough power to require three different supervisors authorisation just to look at it.
The Jefferson.

"Juliet, echo, foxtrot, foxtrot, echo, Romeo, sierra, Oscar, November." The supervisor with the magic thumb, obviously the head man, called confidently and the Jefferson lit up and wirred to life.

Everybody was watching now. They'd never seen the Jefferson before. Neither had I really, but I'd read about it and Ollie had seen it once, he told me about how brilliant it was and how many lives it could save...
How ironic.

The head supervisor placed his hand hesitantly into the box as if scared to get his mortal hand so close to such a sacred item. He decided, nevertheless, that he was indeed worthy if touching such a thing and carefully pulled it out of the box.
He held it in his hands as if it was a baby and from the emotion in his eyes it almost appeared to be his equivalent.
The Jefferson was a flash drive.
I was silver, much like it's icy containment, with green detailing that lot up after speaking the precious code words. It made a small humming noise, that, in different circumstances, might have been a calming sound, the gentle whirring coming from within this tiny item, but instead it was a murder machine.

Head supervisor carefully picked held it up for the crowd to see, making a speech about how "the lives of the few, outweighing the lives of the many and how, with this little device, countless lives have been saved ect..."
This was my last chance to call in.

"Agent Owen?" I whipered "Do you copy?" I asked. "Agent. Owen." I snapped, harshly, demanding a response. "Please" I begged this time. "Don't just leave me in silence. Answer me! Say something. Anything." nothing came despite my plea. "Please Ollie, anything at all. Just so I know you're okay and that you'll find us someday. Please." I was praying for a miracle now and maybe I'd believed I'd get one.
"Ollie, it's Harley, please don't do this to me. Please tell me your still there. Tell me you're not gone. Tell me you haven't left me. Just one word. One sign. A noise. A laugh" I was crying now.
"Tell me you are going to respond. Tell me this isn't going to happen like I know it will. Please Ollie. Please. Please don't go..." I waited and was met with a flicker of hope as my radio emitted a noise like static. He was there. He'd heard me.
But the static still continued and it never seemed to end and I was left, just as alone as I had been, when my only conversational option, was silence.

I looked up as the supervisor had finished his little monologue and was inserting the Jefferson into my station.
I clasped my eyes tightly shut as I refused to watch. I refused to say goodbye.
I felt hot tears creating streams down my face, each finishing as another two appear. I opened my eyes to be met with a blue screen filled with white scribble nobody could read fast enough to comprehend. It scrolled for a few seconds before my station monitor went blank as the words no spy wants to see flashed up on bold.

Terminated.

I thought I was going to be sick.

"Have the rest of the day off" another supervisors patted me on the shoulder as he offered me a necessity, as if it was just a choice.

I refused to look at any of their faces, as I stood up, blank faced and emotionless.
And walked right out of the room.