CIA Agent? Piece Of Cake.

Prologue: Falling Out

Dave's POV:

I'm meeting Isabelle tonight, eh? I guess it might be the last time I will ever be able to be with her. Gah, damn Adamantium. Why is he even involved with my work, nevertherless my life?!

So here I was in my apartment unit putting on some well-ironed black slacks, a purple shirt that stank of cologne and just a casual creme-colored hoodie jacket. I put on my Italian-made black shoes, made sure my hair was nicely combed, sprayed not-too-much-cologne on myself and walked out of my apartment, grabbing and twirling the keys around my index finger.

Once inside my car, I thought about what I should say to my girlfriend. I was going to London for a top secret mission, but what would I tell her?

Oh yeah, if you guys were wondering, yes I am a CIA agent. Allow me to introduce myself.

My name is Dave Leone. I am a spy and also one of the top special agents in the CIA that was based in Langley. I'm Italian, but I've been told there was a mix of English and Irish blood as well. What I learned from my family tree was that the English blood of the family was from my great-grandmother Teresa Holmes. Sadly, she has no connection with the great Sherlock Holmes (awww). The Irish blood came from a great-great-grandparent who was apparently the daughter of the O'Grady Clan's boss.

My real name isn't Dave Leone. It was actually Crisone Domenico Leone, but to escape from my brutal and painful past, I changed it to Dave Leone.

I remembered the restaurant we were meeting at, The Restaurant. Ironic, isn't it?

So I turned the corner, turned another corner and then I stopped my car at a parking lot. I checked my watch. It was Sunday night, 1855 hours. I straightened my hoodie jacket and walked into The Restaurant. I was greeted by a friendly waiter and was brought to a table of two at a far end corner where I could see the door (I insisted). I sat there, ordered some nice, vintage wine and awaited the arrival of my girlfriend, Isabelle Rebecca Cress.

I remenisced my memories with her, the first time I met her, our first date, the day that we finally and oficially became a dating couple. Sure I might be a brilliant observer, a more than worthy partner to spar with and an expert marksman, but I didn't know how to deal out with girls! To tell you guys the truth, I'm shy around girls and Isabelle is my first girlfriend. (Psst, don't tell anyone! ><)

With a quick sip of wine, I saw that Isabelle had just walked past the door. She was stunning, she was beautiful, she was just.... AMAZING!

She was wearing a nice blouse with leggings, together with oxfords and her handbag. Although a simple and casual outfit, she was still sexy. Isabelle made her way towards the table, and I stood up.

"Isabelle," I said, stumbling to pull back the chair for her. She smiled, showing off her straight and white as pearls teeth. Her brown hair was soft and flowing. I'm quite a clumsy guy around girls, but around spies, agents and my boss? I was professional and I was one of the best. Totally ironic! Why!? WHYYYYYYYY-

Okay, that's enough. I just manned up, tried to look cool and regained my composure.

"May I take your order?" a waitress came, and she gave me a look that felt uneasy. It was a flirtatious and seductive look. I hoped Isabelle knows that I'm not flirting with her, which I was seriously not doing. I might be a pervert, but I was sure as hell not a playboy. Oh shit, I talk a lot around Isabelle. Gah! Around her, I was the opposite of what I normally was as a spy and agent.

Getting back to topic, I looked at my menu. "One seafood platter please," I said, and looked at Isabelle. "What are you having, Isabelle?"

She mused over her menu, before deciding, "I'll take the grilled beef. Medium-well."