Access Denied: The Bullseye

1. Mission File 221

The four-thirty alarm was shut down before it could go off in standard beeps. Not a single shred of light passed through the curtain clad windows. But waking up to the dark didn't bother Blind Spot Special Agent Flynn Davidson anymore. It was apart of the job. 

Grunting, Flynn lifted himself off the bed and trudged across the room to check his pager. No messages from Jackson or Lorenzo. He sent them a message asking when they were going to return from their recon mission in Piazza San Marco,  the Venetian centre square. 

Out of all the places, they could have been assigned to carry out recon and counter-intelligence, they had to send Flynn with a genius—M.A.I, as his dad repeatedly reminded him—to a place where they would have to travel on boats. Flynn hated the sea and lakes and all water bodies alike. And the respected Cory Davidson had made the decision to send him to a city where people travelled by boat or by foot.

It was a slow morning, maybe that was the reason Flynn didn't want to go about his usual routine. But he knew that he had chosen an agent's life—anything could happen at anytime and he would have to be ready. Just then, a blue light went off as the buzz passed through the pager.

need you at file location 221. urgent.

He rubbed away the last bit of sleep from his eyes as he rushed to get ready, thinking of the fastest route to la Plazza. Agent's life, he reminded himself. It's an agent's life, Flynn.

* * * 

"I'm in the square," Flynn said through his ear piece. "Where are you two?"

The line crackled, and Flynn hoped that something hadn't went wrong. There had been enough unfortunate incidents in the last five months. He didn't need anymore bad news. 

"Why so glum, chap?" A hand clamped on his back and slipped across his shoulders, guiding him forward. In any other circumstance, Flynn wouldn't have walked with any person who called him a 'chap'. But Flynn would recognize the gray tweed flat cap anywhere. 

He let his shoulders relax, "You couldn't answer the normal way?" Flynn asked. "I thought something went wrong and—"

"You catching this, Jack?" he said to Jackson through the line. "You're boy's worried. Again."

Posted in Europe, Lorenzo Estevan was one of the most experienced special agents in Blind Spot Agency. Flynn's Dad, the Director, had told them that they would have an agent based in Italy assigned to help them on their mission. So far, Lorenzo Estevan had only helped Jackson Wilfred in creating chaos.

The two men skirted across the unusually crowded Venetian central square. Multiple columns rose from the ground stopping at domes and arches, creating the renaissance and gothic architecture Venice was famous for. Septembers in the city were usually cool, but with the dark gray sky, Flynn was sure it was about to rain in a few minutes. The early morning wind allowed the smell of the salt water to float through the air more strongly than it did at other times of the day.

Flynn should deserve a promotion after this. He was sent to a rainy, salt water-smelling, sea surrounded city. He absolutely detested those things. And in that order. There was no doubt in his mind that Cory Davidson had sent him here just because he hated everything about it. 

And it did not help that he was here with Lorenzo Estevan and Jackson Wilfred. 

Jackson's snickering replaced the static on the line. "Worrying is Flynny's default state of being, Lorenzo," he told them. "You'll get used to it."

Swiftly, Lorenzo guided Flynn into a narrow alley. "As the Italians say, Davidson, 'la foi peut déplacer des montagnes'. Faith can move mountains."