The S.H.A.N.E. Game (editing)

Chapter 5: We Have A Weird Acronym

Before I start, this story is dedicated to @severuslexus for making me this perf banner on the side! Admit it; it's perfect. =)

|| Alicia ||

"Where's the newbie?" I ask impatiently, wringing my blond hair which I had carefully straightened this morning. I don't know; something about this latest mission made me think that I'd need to look sharp. 

"Chillax, Ali. It's still one forty. She still has twenty minutes to show up," Erin reminds me, looking up from her plasma screen. Nikki nods subtly in agreement.

"I just don't like her. Hana, I mean," I complain. Nikki raises an eyebrow, and I add, "Not because I'm racist."

"Hey; I think she's here," Erin announces, tapping a few buttons. We hear the whir of machines as the door downstairs slides open and watch through the CCTV as Hana walks in, looking around.

"I'll show her up," Sara offers and disappears through the door. Nikki glances at her wrist watch. "Now we're just waiting for the President."

"OMG what could our next mission be?" Erin squeals excitedly. "Remember last time, we had to sneak in one of the terrorist bases disguised as men?"

"That was not a good memory," I mutter, shaking the picture of my gorgeous locks being stuffed into a short wig that so did not go with my eyes.

Suddenly, one of Erin's devices starts beeping, drawing our attention to it. She picks it up and turns off the sound. "The President's here."

**

Five minutes later, the five Jackets and the President are assembled around the meeting table of the Mission Control, listening instently to our leader. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Hana fidgeting uncomfortably in her seat. I don't blame her though; the first time I saw the President, I kinda freaked out.

The President is a tall and slim redhead with piercing brown eyes and thin, usually pursed lips. She's a really skilled shooter, even better than Nikki, and keeps a low profile. The thing that makes us all freak around her is that, just above her right eyebrow, she has a long, sloping scar that she had gotten three years ago from who-knows-where.

"Wait... so we're being relocated to West Harston?" Sara clarifies.

"Only for the time being. When you complete your mission, you'll all be coming back."

"Good thing Hana packed ahead," Nikki says. "She won't have to waste more time."

"I already got you tickets on the next plane to West Harston Airport," the President informs us, "Which is... at five tomorrow morning."

"Which means we have approximately have nineteen hours to prep," Erin says after a moment of calculation. "Including packing, transportation and boarding."

"If you're done, Ms. West, I am going to start your mission briefing now," the President says, a hint of impatience in her tone that makes Erin flinch. "Y-yes, Ma'am. You can begin."

"Good." The President nods and presses a button on a sleek black remote control. A hologrammic camera pops up from the center of the table and a blue hologram video appears. She lightly taps the 'play' button and we all watch closely, Hana's eyes the biggest (and that's saying much) of all.

It's a news report from three days ago, airing from West Harston. A middle-aged news reporter is standing in front of the camera, speaking quickly into a microphone. Behind her, dozens of people are running in and out of a dark alley, several looking terrified, several trying to put on a brave facade.

"Live from Vista Avenue. Just two nights ago, a certain Mr. Nicolas Mark was walking home from work when suddenly three men in black attire came out of this very alley and ambushed him. They had attacked at two in the morning, and so everyone was either asleep or inside their residences.

"The man's body was found at ten-thirty that same day in the same alley, with a bullet wound on his shoulder and one in his neck," the reporter is saying. The video then cuts to a slender woman sitting on a plush white couch.

"Mrs. Betty Mark, is there anything you want to say to the public about this unfortunate occurence?" the reporter asks, passing the microphone to her. Mrs. Mark dabs her eyes for a moment before speaking.

"My husband was a good man, and innocent. We invested in no drug dealings or anything of that sort. So why would he be ambushed? Those three men are murderers. They must be hunted down and served justice. I will be very happy to see them captured and sent to court," she tells us. "Whoever does serve them justice will be greatly rewarded."

The video ends and the hologram dissipates. 

"Excuse me for asking, Ma'am, but how does this relate to West Harston?" Erin asks, intrigued.

"Good question, Agent West. The alley on Vista Avenue and our suspect are both located in West Harston." The President turns on the hologram again, but this time there's this picture of a good-looking guy with jet-black hair and warm brown eyes on it. The picture must've been gotten from his Facebook, because it's a selfie.

"The other agencies suspect this boy, Shane Walker, as the one behind this." She presses another button and the picture shirks, to be replaced by another grainy image of a blurred figure dashing away from what I think is the alley. One thing about this figure catches my attention: his hair is black, too.

"What other proof do you have?" I ask skeptically. "Black hair is a weak clue."

"I think you just fell in love with our prime suspect," Nikki tells me bluntly. I feel my cheeks burn. "No, I didn't."

"Let me stop that argument before it gets out of hand," the President says, reading our minds. "Anyways, to answer your question, Agent Denver: the NVP clerk at that time reported seeing a certain black-haired boy who calls himself Shane Walker come in and leave ten minutes before the gems were found stolen.

"And knowing the NVP, they do capacity checks every minute."

"Oh." I sit back on my seat, at lost for words. 

" 'Oh' indeed, Agent Denver. Now, do we have any more questions before I send you away to pack?" the President says, giving every single Jacket a cursory glance. Everyone shakes their heads.