Random Prompts

Espionage/Angst

His voice brought back memories of dark rooms and broken bones.

______________________________

I slapped the mission report folder on the desk of my superior officer. He was cold and unforgiving as this mission had been, and each page was smeared with half dried blood of enemies that I would never quite be clean of.

"Natalie said you wanted me to deliver that personally." I stood in front of the monster's desk, arms crossed behind me, attempting with every fibre of my being to not show what great personal cost this mission had taken from me. "Is there anything else? Or can I go into recovery?" My muscles were sore, and though I had sat in the shower for hours the night before until the water ran colder than snow trying to wash away my sins, I desperately needed a massage and to sleep. I was a precision machine, and needed maintenance desperately.

"Actually," he picked up the folder and thumbed through it half heartedly, "I need you on another mission immediately." He smirked darkly.

"Sir, with all due respect," I said in a measured tone, "This has been my fifth mission with no recovery between." I wanted to scream at him that I hadn't gotten a proper night's sleep in over a year, but knew that once I lost my temper I'd have lost. "I'm wearing thin, I need-"

"Frankly, Navarro, I don't give a shit." He threw the folder back onto the desk and turned his head to his computer monitor. "I have a mission of superior importance to your beauty sleep." I felt my head spin, but showed no sign of the growing rage within me.

"What's the mission?"

"Extraction and execution." I could feel my shoulders relax. Execution would be messy, but it would be a quick, easy mission that would likely have me back at control within a month, hopefully once again outside of officer Morgan's wrath.

I had disobeyed a direct order on a mission 2 and a half years ago, and gotten my partner killed and almost exposed our organisation. He had no proof that it was on purpose, but we both knew it was a calculated rebellion. A rebellion that he seemed to be trying to break me of. I would be wrong to say it wasn't working.

He spoke again. "I recognize that you're..." he paused and smirked again, "...tired. So, you'll be paired with another agent. A manager if you will." He pressed a finger to the page button on his phone. "Jackson. Get in here." A cold wave of dread and shock ran through me. I turned slightly and saw the large man enter the room. If Morgan was trying to subdue my defiance once and for all, this would do it, and he knew it.

"Jackson, this is agent Allison Navarro, and you'll be handling her on this mission." He steepled his fingers on the desk in front of him. I was facing agent Jackson, and he held out his hand.

"Good to meet you. I've heard great things of your work." He noticed I wasn't reaching to shake his hand and awkwardly lowered it. "I've wanted to meet you myself, but you've been on assignment consistently for almost 3 years." His voice brought back memories of dark rooms and broken bones. Of course he wouldn't remember me. Even if I'd been allowed a name during my training period, I looked entirely different all these years later. Besides, the lights were always kept low enough that making out a face correctly was almost impossible. I only recognized his name and voice. Though his voice was softer now that it had been when he'd been breaking me.

He'd been one of Morgan's proteges, trained at an impossibly young age, only a handful of years older than I was, it was a miracle he was experienced enough to train my group.

Still, he'd been ruthless with us. Especially with me. I had shown promise during recruitment, a certain jagged anger that Morgan trusted he could turn into a finely tuned killing machine. And, so, he arranged to put me through more hell than most. Jackson delivered, too. He took any spark I had within me and snuffed it out. He broke not only 12 of my bones but my spirit too.

It had taken almost 8 years for me to pull myself from the sewer of self hatred he had thrown me into and start to think for myself again. Apparently Morgan thought it was time for us to reacquaint ourselves with each other.

Morgan had been busy describing the details of our mission while I'd been lost in a storm of reflection and remembrance. When he was done speaking he held out two matching mission folders. I snatched mine gently, then turned halfway to walk out.

"Is that all?" Morgan nodded, still grinning maliciously. "Well, then. I'm going to grab my bags. Wheels up in 30?"

"Yes. Bring cold weather gear, I don't like to leave a trail at hotels." Jackson was reading the details of his folder, and didn't spare me a second glance. I could hardly believe that after the intimate torture he'd delivered to me that he didn't remember me at all, but couldn't afford to care. I walked out of Morgan's office.

This was going to be an interesting few weeks.