The Agent 1

Hey guys!

This story has been in my laptop for a while now. It's a prequel to the Mission of the Heart series, but it can be read regardless if you read the sequel or not. This chapter is more on action and the development of agent seventy-six and Carrie than sex. Leave a comment or a message if you like it. I'm trying to wrap up my other stories, so hopefully you'll get to see more of me this year. Happy reading!

-YoursTruly101

*****

I saw red.

One blow to the next, I felt his fist as it crashed across my cheek bones. The pool of blood lingered in my mouth. I spat to the ground and glared at the French solider. That was all I could do at that point since I was tied to the chair.

"Let's try this again," he panted, adjusting his leather gloves. I could see his body tensed even more. "Who are you and why are you here!?" He grabbed my neck hard and I silently gasped. I gave him a little smirk and spat on his face.

Bad move. He didn't like that at all.

He released my neck and punched me on my abdomen. Groaning, all the air inside my body escaped. Pain. God, I was in a lot of pain, but regardless of how I felt I held my tongue. I didn't talk.

"You think this is some kind of joke," he sneered. "You must be, what, a British spy? Russian? No...I think you are American. I can feel it deep in my bones. Now I could make this easier for you, girl" he pulled my hair back and felt the barrel of his gun against my neck. "You tell me why you were snooping around Alfonso's house or I swear I will shoot you-"

"No need for that," a gruff voice boomed behind him. "She was trained not to talk under interrogations. Is that right, agent?"

I glared at the man behind him. I knew his face. In every picture on every wanted posters across the globe, his face were on them. Alfonso Romano: international criminal, drug and human trafficker. His name was taboo in every gangsters' ears. He was a ghost, a no one, and he was damn good at what he was doing.

I was sent here to kidnap him, but my plans didn't go through perfectly. I was- I mean I am the main agent in this mission. My partner, on the other hand, did something stupid. Fuck, I thought to myself. Where the hell was Jason? Did he get out on time or...? I shrugged off the thought of him being dead. It'd be one stupid move on his part and knowing Jason for the past months as my partner, he was smarter than he looks. He dodged death more times than he liked.

Please don't be dead, I thought to myself. We've encountered many dangerous situations before and we both managed to survive in one piece. He was like my brother and I trusted him with my life.

I closed my eyes and remembered as much as I can. The mission was simple: grab this Alfonso bastard, take him in for questioning, then kill him. He was the center of all things illegal and had dangerous connections with shady criminals. His connections were growing every year.

Let's see here...we went through the sky. Skydiving, to be more specific, and landed five miles away from Alfonso's little cabin which was just a couple miles out in the countryside of France. We left no traces behind, sneak attacked every guard we encountered, and disabled any security cameras and traps. We were outside his cabin, crouched and listened to silence.

The mission was nothing special. I've handled a lot worse and a lot bloodier, but Jason did something stupid.

Jason and I split up; I was to go to Alfonso's bedroom and Jason to the living room. With my black balaclava and suit, I silently walked over to his bedroom. The cabin was bigger than the blueprint and pictures I was presented with. Expensive too from the look of the paintings and furniture scattered all throughout.

I slid the optic fibre underneath the bedroom door: clear. Slowly, I opened it and no one was there. Suddenly, I heard a glass break then shouts and gun fire downstairs. The living room, I thought to myself. Shit!

Running, I went downstairs as fast as I could and found myself face-to-face at the end of a gun barrel.

Alfonso was sweating hard and half naked from the waist up. The gun shook since his hand was shaking from uncertainty. I couldn't move. Am I going to die tonight, I thought to myself. There was blood on his chest, but I didn't see any wounds near it. It was then I realized that it was Jason's blood and he was laying unconsciously on the floor.

Fuck, I thought to myself. Don't you dare be dead!

"Your little friend was careless," he hoarsely said. "He broke my favourite vase and woke me up." He chuckled deeply and quickly turned his smile into a sneer. "Say a little prayer, my friend, because you're going to die soon."

Then he knocked me unconscious.

When I woke, I came to the conclusion that my twenty-one years of living on this earth will end tonight. I was tied up to the chair with my black balaclava and weapons gone. My head was killing me and I could smell blood on my face.

A French soldier came by and punched, kick, and slapped me for information, but old habits die hard. I wouldn't tell him a thing. That's when Alfonso decided to step in.

"She was trained to not talk under interrogations. Is that right, agent?"

I glared at him even more.

"She won't talk, sir," the french soldier panted, wiping a pool of sweat from his eyebrows. "She's a hard one to crack."

"She will, sooner or later," Alfonso grinned. He snapped his finger in the air a couple of times. "You just need a better approach of torture."

My eyes widened as two more french soldiers emerged from the shadows, dragging a lifeless body. Alfonso grabbed another chair, faced it towards me and commanded the soldiers to put the body on it. It wasn't until they tied the body that I finally realised I was looking at Jason.

It was hard looking at him face-to-face. He was paler than usual and his face was covered in bruises and blood. Like me, he didn't have his mask on, but his gear was torn and ripped like he was ravaged by some kind of animal. I could see small pools of blood forming near his foot. Jesus, I thought myself. What did they do to you?

I could barely see his eyes since majority of his face has swelled up, but I could feel his desperation and his will to live. I gritted my teeth.

"This partner of yours," Alfonso suddenly said. "He owes me a very antique vase that cost around one million dollars. As you can see, he payed every cent for it."

He backhanded Jason across the face and I involuntarily attempted to stand up and defend him. Alfonso raised an eyebrow at me and smirked.

"I can see you are close to your partner, girl," he chuckled. "It'd be a shame if," he slapped Jason across the face again," something else happens to him. You! Prop his head up. I want this agent to see her partner."

As Alfonso and the French guard prop Jason up, I shivered when our eyes met again. We both knew what was coming and I had no power nor control over it. I'm sorry, I thought to myself helplessly. I'm so sorry. The guard stayed behind the chair, pulled Jason's hair up so his eyes were leveled with mine.

"Now," Alfonso said as he grabbed a baton from the other guard. "You tell me what I need to know, otherwise your partner will be beaten to death. Starting with: who are you?"

I breathed faster and deeper with rage, but kept my mouth shut. Alfonso smiled and crashed the baton to Jason's chest. Jason gave a painful gasp from the blow. Tears rolled down his face.

"We could do this all night, baby. Let me ask again: who are you?"

I said nothing.

Again and again, he asked me the same question, but I kept my mouth shut. I gritted my teeth. He's going to die soon, I thought to myself. Either way, we'd escape the night through bodybags.

It wasn't until the 20th time that he stopped beating my partner up; I could see blood on the baton. Lots of it. Jason's body was nothing, but a corpse desperately wanting to die, but I could see his chest heaved weakly. My chest ached from my pain and his. His brown eyes held mine all throughout the torture session as if telling me that I should continue to keep my mouth shut.

"Huh, how 'bout that," Alfonso panted. "This session gave me quite a workout! My swings were on full blast. I can feel my shoulder begin to ache. Now," he gave the baton back to the guard. "I'll ask you again, girl. Be careful this time."

My tied hands gripped the rope tightly as Alfonso unholstered his gun and pointed it at Jason's bloody head. Jason straightened and looked at me without blinking. He and I knew.

"Who are you?"

Somehow my mouth slightly opened as if saying something will save him, but no words came out. He's your partner and friend, I thought to myself. Shouldn't you try to save him?

I can't. He and I knew this. The Agency knew this.

Alfonso waited, then gave a disappointed look when I closed my mouth. I leaned back against the chair and sighed quietly.

"What a shame," Alfonso whispered as he pulled the trigger.

A large bang and smoke went out from the end of the gun. Jason's body went limp as bits of flesh and blood scattered at the opposite end of the bullet entry site. For a second, my heart stopped beating. I felt cold.

I felt nothing.

Jason's lifeless eyes were still open. They seemed to be glaring at me with hatred and blame, digging deeper through my eyeballs and clutching on to my soul whispering: why couldn't you save me? Why didn't you try to save me?

Alfonso looked at me with his gray deep eyes and shook his head. "I have to hand it to you, you're loyal. But loyalty won't save you in every situation."

"Shall I kill this one, sir?" one of the guards said as he unholstered his gun.

"No need," Alfonso replied. "She's mine."

He raised his gun and shot at me.

Before my mind could register what has happened, my body shook from pain, panic, and surprise. All cells in my tissues were on hypermode, but I couldn't feel anything.

I knew there was pain, but I was numb at the same time. I could feel it, that bullet inside of me gnawing its way through my flesh. My brain finally hit the panic button, telling me that a bullet was inside my chest and that if I don't do anything about it I would die in a few minutes.

I felt my body becoming weak and immobile. I slumped and the only thing that kept my head up was the back of the chair. My breathing became irregular and shallow. Live, I thought to myself. Live, dammit. I wasn't looking at anything anymore, except at Jason's eyes at the opposite side of me. We're even now, aren't we, I thought to myself.

"Should I burn them, sir?"

"No. Let their bosses find them like this. Let this serve as a warning for going against me. Come on, we gotta get out of here."

I saw the hanging lamp hovering above me. It swayed back and forth, but my vision became blurry. Few moments has passed and I could feel my life slipping away. What did I leave behind, I thought to myself. Did I actually made a difference to any political outcome? To people's lives? I'd like to believe that I did because at least that'll give me some peace in my violent life.

Silence surrounded and engulfed me for comfort

Silence used to make me uneasy. It heightened my paranoia and my urge to kill. Ever since I was a child, I was raised by the Agency, trained by agent after agent. I remember agent 58; she was a cold-hearted woman. She was tall and muscular, but very smart due to years of experience in the field. She was the one that taught me most of the fighting and weaponry skills to stay alive. But I was so weak then. Pathetic.

One day, she locked me in a metal room like I was nothing. I was eleven maybe, but I could never forget my screams and cries. I could see her dark brown eyes staring down at me through that rectangular window on the door.

"Focus, child!" she screamed behind the door. I tried my best to stop crying, but my tear ducts were wide open. "Focus! You're trapped in that mind of yours. I see what your fear is. Your fear is silence, like mine before. Do you know why you fear it?"

I fell on my knees and covered my ears with my two small hands.

"Because you're full aware of the injustice in the world. Crimes, death, poverty, all of it is just sprinting endlessly in that mind of yours. It won't stop, child. It will never stop. When you're out there in the future, doing what we do best in attempting-no, succeeding in making this world a better place, they're still there in your head. You're just not aware of it. But take away all the noise, light..."

I whimpered when the room went pitch black.

"It's just you and those thoughts. They will catch up and ambush you. You become overwhelmed and nearing that panic stage that you are in now. The secret of surviving is to focus. Don't let them grab hold to you because once you do, you'll fall and you will break. Like you are now."

I leaned back against the door and listened carefully.

"It's not easy being an agent. All pressure are on us. Unlike the desk agents, we do what we must in the field. The danger is real out there and in our minds, but fear is a choice. Use that silence to your advantage. Compromise with your thoughts and tell them that you are doing everything in your power to help as much as you can. But whatever you do, you can't break. You can't afford to break, child."

A couple of minutes went by and I was still sitting, leaning my back against the cold metal door until I heard her walking away. I was in that room for ten hours with no water or food. When she opened the door, I walked out without thought. Silence became my ally since then.

Is that really the memory you want to go back to, I thought to myself. It was the only memory that made an impact to me.

It's time to go, I thought to myself. You have to go.

"Take...me..." I whispered, half-hoping that a grim reaper stood in front of me with its black hood and crescent axe in one hand. "I'm...dead."

"No you're not," a voice suddenly whispered.

My brain registered a woman's voice. Slowly, I looked up and didn't see a grim reaper, but a slim figure looking down at me. Black clothing gear and mask. It crouched down and looked into my eyes. Green bright eyes were staring into mine, piercing it's way through as if hoping I was still there. Her mask looked like mine: a black balaclava.

Her hands put pressure on my chest.

"Agent seventy-six," she said soothingly with a hint of authority. "You're going to be okay. We'll transfer you to a nearby medical facility." She began untying me while a handful of boots shuffled around me. "It's okay, there are other agents with me. I'm going to inject you with a sedative, okay? You'll feel a pinch on your arm."

"What's...the point," I whispered weakly. "I don't...feel anything...anyway."

Once freed, my body fell forward, but the woman caught me. My head rested on her shoulder for comfort. I'm not sure if I imagined it, but I felt her arms around my bloodied body.

"I'm going to...die. Aren't I," I stated matter-of-factly. My eyelids became heavier and heavier by each passing second until the sandman took me in. I felt like a kid again locked inside a dark metal room with nothing, but myself

Silence and darkness surrounded me, but I heard a faint whisper deep in the corner of my mind. It was the woman's voice again, the one with the green eyes. She said, "I won't let you die."

- - - - - - - -

3 years later

I bolted upright and reflexively grabbed my gun from under my pillow and pointed it from an unexpected enemy. No one was there except me on my bed in a hotel I've been staying at for one week. Beads of sweat rolled down my forehead.

Silence.

What a nightmare, I thought to myself. It was nearing Jason's death anniversary and the last moments I unfortunately had with him three years ago haunted my thoughts for the past couple of days. For the past mornings, I woke up panicked and angry with a gun in my hand, half-expecting to see Alfonso stand at the edge of a bed.

Sighing, I flopped back onto my bed and stared at the white ceiling. I closed my eyes and recalled the events that took place after the incident...

The aftermath of that night resulted into numerous surgeries, blood transfusions, and other tests that kept me alive. The agents that found Jason and I transported us to a nearby Agency medical facility, but I couldn't remember what happened between the moment they found us and the moment I woke up on a hospital bed. When I did came to, I was alone with nothing but an IV line stuck in my arm dressed in a hospital gown with multiple bandages all over my body.

The room I stayed in was simple: white walls, basic medical supplies, and a nurse that stayed by my side that checked my vital signs periodically. No one visited me nor did the nurse tried answering the numerous questions I had in mind.

"What will happen to me?" I asked patiently as the nurse checked my bandages.

The elderly nurse gave me a long look and sighed. "An Agent will answer the questions you have. She'll be here in a couple of days, but for now the Agency wants you to rest. You were in a very bad condition when you got here, agent. Twenty-five percent chance of living, but here you are talking like nothing happened."

"Three broken ribs, a broken nose, gunshot on your upper right chest, multiple bruises on your abdomen, torso and face, multiple lacerations on your back, chest and thighs, all these in one night? I've seen agents die with fewer injuries. You're lucky to be alive."

When she left, I waited patiently for anyone else to come. An elderly field agent whose name was Freida, a scottish woman who looked thirty instead of fifty, came by three hours later and explained my present and future status. She sat next to my bed with a clipboard in hand.

"You're in bad shape, seventy-six. We thought you'd be dead-"

"Can we please discuss my discharge date and my reinstatement?"

Freida looked at me knowingly, like she was holding something back. I hate it when agents do that, but I shouldn't complain. I do that sometimes, too.

"Pamela-"

"Call me seventy-six," I interrupted. You're not my friend nor are we close, I thought to myself.

She pursed her lips and continued," seventy-six, I know this is not a good situation you're in. You're one of our top agents in the field and you're a valuable asset to the Agency. However, you can't do anything with the state you're currently in. You can't walk, fight, hell you can't even lift your arm to fire a weapon. Right now the Agency has no use for you."

I winced.

"All you can do is rest and heal, probably rehabilitate in a couple of months. Those wounds of yours will take time to heal until you're you again. You won't be reinstated until you passed all the stress tests we'll perform with you-"

"When will those tests take place?"

"When the doctors and I feel ready to give it to you, agent."

"So, what," I refuted angrily. "What am I suppose to do 'til then, huh? Alfonso is still fucking out there, Freida!"

"An agent took over the whole operation while you're gone-"

I sat upright angrily and grimaced from pain. "What!? That was-that is still my mission! Jason and I-"

I gritted my teeth together. Jason and I risked our lives to get that Alfonso bastard, I thought to myself. No, I risked my life to get Alfonso and Jason paid with his. "That mission," I whispered in rage,"is still mine. Alfonso is mine!"

"See, this is what we were worried about," Frieda said patiently, standing on her feet. " We know how close you were with your partner, agent 33, and we're worried that due to his unfortunate death you'll take this mission too personal-"

"I assure you that I won't-"

"Too personally," she continued. "We know you're trained to separate your emotions and your duty, but for the meantime, a desk agent will take over and study Alfonso and track his every move and illegal activities. Yes, this is still your mission and you're still the main field agent of it. Honestly, we can't track him down. He left no trail when he left the country, so even if you were to miraculously heal fully, you wouldn't know where he is located."