Never As It Seems

The Beginning

NOTE: Okay, before you read this thing I strongly encourage you to have read the fic that came before, it, Familiar Strangers, which is right here: (http://bit.ly/1cJ9WF4). You're probably not going to understand much of this thing if you haven't read that, 'cause I don't explain a whole lot. Sorry for the inconvenience. But enjoy.

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Flames Pond didn't have an ordinary life. Other people's lives involved texting - shopping - going to parties every other Friday night - drinking cow's milk - sleeping nine hours a day - writing essays the night before they were due - on and on and on. Normal stuff, really. Nothing out of the usual daily routine millions went through. A simple life, filled with simple issues, with nothing ultimately extraordinary at all. Ordinary, ordinary, ordinary.

Flames' life wasn't like that. 

"And after we tackle the third guy with the Walter PPK, we grab the gun and knock out the other two, who we presume have been disarmed at this point by 0002 and 0005. That's the easy bit. We still have to account for our last and most formidable enemy - Mr. Machete himself," said Charles Mackson to the small group of bored-looking agents sitting in front of him in the conference room of the semi-famous espionage agency, AY5.

"That's not his actual name," said Flames, who was slacking back in his navy blue plastic chair. "And we don't even know if he actually will have a machete..."

"Shut it, 0007," said Charles in reply. 

Flames scoffed. "You've known me for years, Charlie, you would think you would know my real name by now..."

"It's Charles," he said, with an expression of extreme annoyance. "And I said shut it. We need to be serious here. It's a serious issue," he added, in a tone that suggested he thought Flames had the comprehension level of a five year old. "Serious. Do you not know what seriousness is, 0007?"

"No, can you tell me?" Flames offered.

"You know, he's got a point. We've gone over this a million times," said Annmarie Monson, who was absentmindedly twirling her blonde hair around her index finger. "Let's see if I've got it all... kill the first guy, knock out second, tackle third guy, grab his gun and beat it over his head to knock him and the two other guys with the same gun, fight Monsieur Machete until he dies or is otherwise severely injured. Then look out for others and repeat procedure if necessary. Yep. I got it."

"Maybe you do," said Charles, "but does 0007 here know it?"

Flames had been about to doze off, his chin resting against a fist. He jolted up immediately when he heard his agent code name. 

"Yes, fight a bunch of guys and kill a couple of 'em. Take away the machete from our good ole friend first before we attack, otherwise severe injuries shall be inflicted."

Charles rolled his eyes and drummed his fingers on the table in front of him. "Quoting Ms. Hillman doesn't mean you actually understand the procedure."

"I do!" said Flames. He sat up and faced Charles directly. "It's not that hard. I know the rest of you with your puny, underdeveloped brains can't comprehend the finer details of it all - that has to be the reason, otherwise we wouldn't have to go over this a trillion times -"

"0007, you have been recruited on this mission out of sheer luck and nothing more -"

"I have not! That's not true! It's because I'm the freaking best! Come on, don't give me that no you're not look, everyone know it's a cold hard fact. And I have the experience. I didn't see you fighting in an epic space battle practically by yourself at the tender age of fifteen -"