Spy Nation

Catching up

       I only ask one thing of this boy, one thing! I've never asked for any other favors or promises, just one. "Stay the hell out of my room!" Every day, he came in and dragged me out of bed, or I woke up to him looking through my journals, inventions, and weapons. I was stupid to think any day would be different.

     My eyelids reluctantly pulled away from my eyes, forcing me to stare at an overhead light that hung from my ceiling. Something smelled...Almost sweet, but almost as if it couldn't decide if it was dead or...Cotton candy? Sugar? Dare I say, chocolate? I sat up quickly and unsheathed my dagger and before he could blink, he was out of his chair, on the floor, with me straddling his chest, a knife to his throat. Wide awake, he slowly relaxed and laughed, wickedly. Had he been sleeping? His black hair looked like someone had ran their fingers through it too many times and he hadn't bothered to fix it. That was probably the case. He had his way with girls, which is why his room is on the lowest floor. With a disgusted look, I pounded on his chest with a fist, pulling myself onto the bed, away from him. At least we know my legs work again.

    "Parker, you look healthy as ever, Love," he said with a smirk, speedily picking him self up and stretching. "Alice had no problem healing you, obviously. I hope you feel better."

     "Oh please, get out." When he hesitated, I raised my voice. "Now!" He paused, his smile fading and he walked to the door, setting his hand on it for a moment, when he looked back, I was a little more than terrified, for his ever so childish gleam had faded with the smile.

     "I'm really glad you're okay...I was worried." When he spoke, his eyes were emotional. I didn't know dead people had emotions. With that, he left, closing the door behind him. I let out a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding and looked down, only to see pale, exposed legs, and a pair of shorts. I had new clothes on. The pervert better not have changed me. I'd kill him. With a groan, I sighed and flung my leg over the bed, pulling myself up again and testing my legs. Good as new. With a relieved smile, I looked down at my feet to admire them because they were still attached. I noticed a pair of sunglasses on the floor and a crumpled paper. Writing was a nervous tick of his. "What did you do Walter?" I groaned again, crouching down and picking up the paper, unrolling it. There was a ghost of writing, far too erased for me to decipher. Probably just writing how wierd I look sleeping again.

     "Jackass," I muttered, standing up and walking to my closet. Within minutes I was dressed in black jeans, a Dark blue Nirvana shirt, and my combat boots. God I loved those combat boots, the only pair of shoes I owned. I carefully made my way down the rickedy wooden steps that only creaked if you didn't know where you were going. I knew where to step precisely so I could sneak some of some one else's snacks at night. What can I say, a spy has to be good at what she does. Leaping passed the final step, I made my way towards the door and snagged my leather jacket off the back of the couch, it had already been fixed up, so I had to have been out for a bit. Good thing I tracked the bus. As I opened the door, I was pulled backwards forcefully and into the warm embrace of Frazer. He was the sweet heart of the group, not my friend, but a nice acquaintance. A blind angel, that's hat he was, but every other sense was clearly on point.

     "Rose? Where are you going?" he asked softly while he shifted his wings, which sent loose feathers cascading around me. Scrunching my nose, I sighed. He's the only one I would ever let use my middle name.

     "I have to finish what I started." I muttered. His face fell and a frown replaced his smile.

     "You're always out nowadays, come sit with me for a bit, I'll make some tea."

     "You know I can't do that, it'll haunt me," without another word, I'd slipped through his arms and sprinted out. I didn't have time for him. I waited on the sidewalk before calmly stepping out in front of a cab, forcing it to stop. I slipped in the back and opened my navigator, going into the tracker and finding the bus.

    "Where to miss?" The man asked in a Jersey accent.

     "An hours drive North, South road, I'll walk from there." I replied. It would be a long ride.

     An hour later, mister Jersey dropped me off, grumbling about how low his pay rate was. Honestly, a job like that is one I'd have picked any day if it was an option. Sadly, when I was picked up as a child, I was forced into endless, inexcapable chaos.  I shoved the Navigator into my jacket pocket once more and popped my knuckels, walking towards a bus station. Seems they needed a break and this was the perfect cover. Immediately, I recognized the bus, a man was arguing with an elderly woman, making excuses so she'd leave his bus. I sped up and someone must've seen me and said something, because as I pulled my hair into a messy pony tail, he looked into the bus then back at me and his look went from angry to scared real fast. Must've done a number on him, huh. As I sped up, zipping up my jacket to keep everything secure, he shoved the woman to the ground and barely clised the doors when the bus began to move away. I sprinted, helping the woman up with a smile, watching the bus recede. "Thank you y-"

     "No problem, have a nice day!" I shouted, smacking my hip to activate the switch for my grappeling hook. They sure as hell were stubborn in jackets. The claw came out, slipping between cloth as I gained on the bus due to cars  ahead. Just barely catching the ladder towards the roof, my feet left the ground and I was thrown into the pole. I bet that looked graceful. "Shi-" honking interrupted me as I clutched the ladder, pulling myself up. Quickly as I could on a moving bus, I wobbled to the roof escape and slammed my foot down, shooting into the bus too easily. Unexpected, caught off guard, my knees slammed into the metal floor and I grit my teeth. Pain. Blood. It dripped from my knee caps, but it was ignored. The men looked up, startled, before reaching for weapons. I scrambled up, to the nearest one and upper-cut him right in the jaw, forcing his eyes to roll back and he fell to the floor. Two of them got ahold of their own weapons and one of them charged at me, dagger in hand. What kind of spy did they think I was? I rolled my eyes and waited until he was close, grabbing his arm and twisting it until I heard a satisfactory pop of the dislocating arm and his scream. 
   
       A frusterated shout came from my right as another one loaded a pistol. Noob. He finally loaded it and I waited patiently as my victim wailed in agony. He aimed and with a wink, I shoved his teammate at him. He grinned cockily and dodged, thinking he'd won. Wrong. When he looked down for even the slightest second, I slid the dagger always stashed in the side of my boot, and threw it, sticking him straight in the forehead. Let's  be honest. I didn't go there to kill, but I did come to keep them quiet, the certainly weren't talking now. With his dislocated arm, the man whimpered while pulling himself foeward with his legs. I rolled my eyes, taking a breath as I walked towards him. I picked up his leg and began dragging him down the walkway towards the bus doors with a glance at the driver. "Keep driving." I said in a threatining tone before shifting my grip to his upper back. I wrapped my arm around him and pulled the lever, opening the bus doors. With a forceful shove, he went tumbling out with a scream. Wind pulled my hair around my face and I leaned back, pulling on the lever and dragging myself towards the seats. I plopped down in a seat with a sigh and relaxed slightly. My muscles ached. Sadly, I was not going to get any R&R here. A click sounded behind me and cold metal pressed to the side of my head.

      "Silly little girl, Stand and walk into the isle, before you lose your brain." a thick, male, russian accent interrupted. With a sigh, I stood and stepped into the middle of the bus, sliding a hand into my pocket. I pressed my hand against the round thing in my pocket that was my only hope. Shame, that bus driver cooperated the whole time. "Beaten at your own game, any last words." It was not a question, but I still answered.

     "Seems that way doesn't it, Sir?" the last word he'd ever hear was filled with venom, and absolutely no remorse. With a swift motion, I pulled the pin on the grenade I called 'Hope'. I dropped it and ran as he looked down to the explosive. I sprinted to the backexit, pulled the handle, and went soaring through the air, tumbling, tumbling, hot air consuming shattered glass. That's the second time I've leapt from a window in a few days time. I really should be more careful next time.

If there is a next time.