The Mission Of The Heart Ch 03

Hey readers, long time no...write? Sorry, college is kicking my ass a little bit, but I'm coping ;)

Anyway, this story has been sitting in my laptop for who knows how many months, so...

Here you go ☺

I hope you guys forgive me though, I will try to write as much as I can. Write a feedback here and there, I love getting mails from you aka readers!

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(A lone scruffy guard spat on the concrete floor, coughing afterwards as he sniffed the condensed air. Andre was his name. At 250lbs, the tall man couldn't think of anything else other than what his damn wife cooked for dinner. Damn woman, he thought to himself. Always nagging and nagging her life away.

He looked around the cells, the prisoners behind them always moaning quietly. Growling silently to himself, he fast-walked to one of the cells, and kicked one of the hands of the prisoner's were inching their way out. "Shut the fuck up, amigo!" he spat, saliva flowing freely out of his mouth. The prisoner shouted something in Spanish, and inched himself to the depth of his cell.

Grinning, the guard loves his power in this underground prison. Or may I say, torture house, he thought to himself, smiling. He did his usual routine, walking around and inspecting the cells, whistling and twirling his baton like he owns the place.

He walked pass each and every cell, but slowed his pace as he approached cell number fifty-nine. Straining his eye to get a clearer vision of the prisoner, he tapped his baton on the steel bars. "Hola, hola!" he said gruffly with his harsh Spanish accent, "Anybody home?"

Nothing.

He tapped the bars again.

Again, nothing, but a soft shuffling sound.

Well, he thought to himself, that's a sign someone's there. Probably half-dead already. Grunting, he walked pass the cell and continued on his routine.)

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"You're late," I whispered under my breath, looking up from my iPad. It was a dreary Saturday afternoon, everything was basically soaking wet. A typical spring weather in the Windy City.

Today was my official hang-out-with-Charlie day. Well considering I have two guns on me, let's just say the word "friend" is a bit of an understatement. Let me reintroduce myself:

Call me Pamela. In fact, call me whatever the fuck you want.

I am an agent from The Agency, a secret independent organization that was made by whomever. Even I don't know my own employer(s). All I do is follow orders.

I am 21 years old, 5'5, 137 lbs, and I have the skills and knowledge that are considered to exceed the norm's.

I can kill whatever, whomever swiftly and without any problems.

Deadly.

But it was a couple weeks ago when I failed to carry out my exact orders, which was to kill Charlie Carlson. The reason behind it? I have no clue to be honest...

But it was a good thing I didn't since a few weeks after that incident, I received another mission, which was to protect her from any harm at all. Mind-blowing, isn't it?

Any who, back to the current situation, after that party (and the little "incident" I had with Ashley) Charlie finally asked me to have a girl's day two days after. Let me tell you, I don't know what's gotten into me because I'm nervous as hell.

And here I am, sitting well dressed in a café called "Belfast Café" sipping on my coffee (dark, please), my hair down, and a bit of make-up on my face. For the past twenty minutes, I had memorized everything and anything in the café, including people's faces, dresses, the paintings on the wall, everything within my field of vision.

Where the hell was she? I was fidgeting like crazy, and told myself to stop multiple times. I have never been this nervous in my life.

Okay, maybe once when a Russian soldier held a gun to my face while I was kneeling and handcuffed. Good thing he had a good soul at the end, otherwise I would've died three years ago.

The front door opened, and there was Charlie with her leather jacket, soaking wet with a desperate look on her face. She looked frantically around the café and smiled warmly when she locked eyes with mine.

My heart literally skipped a beat, and I had a funny feeling in my stomach. It felt like something was fluttering in it. My mouth went dry. Am I sick? Shyly, I picked up my mirror and moved my left colored contact around, just to see if it was still there (naturally, I have dark brown eyes, but I put on some light brown contacts on. Safety precautions).

She zigzagged through the busy building, and sat down in front of me, panting a bit.

"Ohmigosh, I'm so sorry," she said, trying to catch her breath. "Some jerk deflated my tires after work, and I had to get a cab, but there was traffic-"

"I-it's okay, really," I replied, smiling a bit. "Besides, I had a nice bonding time with my IPad. So relax a bit."

With that, I sent a quick email to Carrie, asking her to look into the little "tire incident."

"What were you doing?" she asked, looking curiously at me. "Facebooking?"

I smirked, and looked up at her.

"Something like that."

She was about to say something else, but a college, brown-haired waitress interrupted us. Slowly, I turned my IPad off, and laid it on the table.

"What would you like, hun?"

"Oh," she said, a bit distracted. "I'll have the mocha frappuccino, please."

The waitress smiled and told her she'll come right back. With a huff, she walked off through the busy working place, leaving a rather awkward silence between Charlie and I.

Okay, calm down, I thought to myself. You can pass through a normal conversation.

"So, how was work today?"

"What do you do again?"

The question caught me off-guard, and I nearly spilled my coffee. I nearly forgot about my so-called occupation.

"I'm a waitress at Tru for...perhaps a year now."

I smiled gracefully like the question was nothing out of the ordinary. She leaned forward with her elbows on the table. I looked at her like I was being interrogated. Actually, I think I was being interrogated. Playing it smoothly, I also leaned forward and looked at her straight in the eyes.

"Why do you ask?"

She tilted her head slowly to the right, carefully observing me. My mouth felt like a desert, so I immediately drank my coffee until my cup was empty.

"Tell me my name."

"What?"

She bit her lower lip uncertainly, and cautiously looked at me.

"My name," she repeated innocently. "Is it too much to ask?"

"Your name," I said, clearing my throat," is Charlie Carlson."

Interrupted, the waitress came back with Charlie's mocha frappuccino. Both Charlie and I jumped in result of her immediate presence. Instinctively, I placed my hand to my gun-harness hidden underneath my black coat. Charlie looked at me suspiciously, and took one small sip on her frappuccino.

I frowned a bit, looking at her mysteriously. Coincidentally, my phone vibrated inside my pocket, the same side the harness was.

"Excuse me," I muttered, and slowly walked to the bathroom. She gave me a somewhat blank look, but then smiled and said sure. I pulled my iPhone out, and looked at the caller ID. As expected, it was Carrie. Swiftly, I went into the one-stalled bathroom, locked the door, and answered.

"Give me something."

"Alright," she said hurriedly on the other line," we may have a stalker or two on our hands. Well, on your hands technically."

Great.

"Well, you gotta give me more than that, Carrie."

"Okay, okay."

I patiently waited while Carrie typed away on her keyboard on the other line. Stalkers? I dug deep within my mind, and visualized the entire café without missing any detail, searching for any suspicious activities.

"Got it. The deflated tires were no incident, but I have trouble going through the public cameras that were around her car at the time. Damn. I do, however, have a satellite picture of them."

"Them?"

" Yea. Four, to be exact. They are-"

"Between the weight of 180-230lbs, one of the men had sunglasses, another has a limp possibly because of a sport injury. All are of Italian descent."

"Yes, bull's eye," she said. I can visual her smiling on the other line.

"Please send me a link righ-"

"Way ahead of you. I'm already sending it."

"Thanks, Carrie."

A couple of seconds went by, and the link came through my iPhone. I opened it, and the suspects' pictures popped up.

I was right.

They were all in the same café, scattered and seated in different tables. Quickly, I turned off the cell, and gracefully walked out of the bathroom after I made sure I put a silencer on my gun. As I was striding back to my and Charlie's table, my body was ready for any attacks. Just like any other situation I've been. Billions. But this time it was different. This time I feel protective, like a female bear would for her baby. Protective to the point of destroying their bodies into little pieces, while Charlie is behind a protective wall: me.

Charlie's face lit up as I was only a few feet from her, and my mood lightened instantly. She was playing with her hair, falling softly on her face while looking at her drink closely.

"Did you know there's like 500 calories in this little thing?" she said. "Holy shit, no wonder I feel so full!"

I sat down gracefully beside her instead of in front of her. She looked slightly surprised, but didn't mind me. I crossed my legs together, and looked at her with every focus I had.

She turned, and looked at me curiously once again. I smiled instinctively, and looked away, sipping on my drink. While doing so, I looked on the corner of my eye: one of the guys was moving closer to us.

So unprofessional, I thought as I set my cup down. How stupid could you possibly be of thinking you can do anything crucial in a public place? The men must be amateurs. Pathetic. I made a small growling sound in the back of my throat, but coughed to cover it up.

"So," Charlie said in a somewhat small voice. "Really. Have I...talked to you or met you before? I mean, before we became close."

As I looked back at her, she looked so vulnerable with her green eyes, her hands fidgeting. As I was about to answer, my iPhone started vibrating. I took it out, and opened up the new text message from Carrie.

"Warning! One of them is a trained Terrorist!!!! There's a high chance of one of them carrying some kind of explosives-"

That was all I needed.

I quickly put my phone in my pocket, and stood up abruptly. Charlie took no notice of my behavior since she was preoccupied with a fellow friend of hers waving on the other side of the building. Automatically, I grabbed her hand and whispered," let's get out of here" near her ear.

She looked at me questionably right after my hand made contact to hers. I looked at her, and smiled. "Trust me," I said reassuringly, squeezing her hand a bit. Raising an eyebrow curiously, she slowly nodded and followed me out of the building. We raced through the crowded café, saying our "excuse me's" and "pardon me's" to the people we bumped to, and finally reached the door. As we were about to go outside, I looked over my shoulder and saw movements among the crowd that was headed our way.

"What's going on?" Charlie asked as she followed my gaze. I looked over the room again, sensing that the men were close. I gently tugged her outside, greeted with a hug from the cold wind and the tears of Mother Nature.

"Wow," I said, shivering looking over at her and back at the cafe. "Spring weather, huh?"

She stopped and released her hand from mine, water pouring over her face.

"Alright, what is going on?"

Feeling a bit panicky, I looked closely at the café and discovered that not one of the four men was coming out from it. What the hell, I thought. Talk about a short chase. Paranoid, I looked frantically around, but found none of the men.

"Hey, I'm talking to y-"

"Charlie?"

I spun around to see who called out her name and found myself staring to a handsome, blue-eyed man in a business suit. Oh yes, and I do mean handsome, like Brad Pitt in the movie "Troy." In fact, there were some resemblance, but his hair was darker. I looked at Charlie, her face blushing, and her eyes down at the ground. Slowly, she met his gaze shyly, biting her lower lip unconsciously. It was at that moment I realized I didn't like this guy, whoever he was. Not one bit.

"James!" she exclaimed, and gave him a hug, which he returned a little too quickly. "How have you been? It has been, what, a year already?"

"A year and two months!" he said smiling, showing off his white teeth. "And I've been great. I just came back two weeks ago from New York."

They continued on their conversation, as an unfamiliar feeling began to rise within me. What was it, anger? Jealousy? Envy? It was all too confusing, because it seems that these emotions were compacted into one and they were all crowding my chest. What was happening, I asked myself.

"Pamela?" Charlie asked, turning her head to me with concern. "Are you okay?"

The Brad Pitt look-alike (James, was it?) looked at me with amusement written on his face, his hands in his pockets. He looked at me from head to toe, and I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"I, uh," I said, clearing my throat. "I gotta go, but I'll see you guys later."

Smiling, I turned around and coincidentally spotted one of the men, walking idly in front of the café, and going to a nearby alley. It seemed he didn't spot me. Still walking, I looked around some more and didn't find the other three men, which was highly unusual. Unless, he wants me to follow him through the alley. I looked over my shoulder and eyed Charlie; she was still busy chatting with James.

Smirking, I fast-walked to the man, and followed him to the lonely alley as droplets of rain dripped down my face and body. It's about bloody time I get some kind of action, I thought to myself as I reached inside my coat feeling my gun.

Walking from a safe distance behind him, he suddenly stopped in the middle of the valley. I stopped my tracks. He then spun around quickly and shot a bullet in my directly. I felt it going dangerously close by my head. As I ducked and hid behind a dumpster, I saw the three other men bursting through a door, shouting something in foreign tongue.

Bullets flew past me, and I got my other gun out.

"Big mistake," I muttered under my breath. Quickly, I leaned over and shot multiple bullets to them.

Let's just say the fight was short and sweet.

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Humming quietly to myself, I walked over and around the dead bodies and walked lazily to the fourth man, crawling to his gun. I stepped on his gun, and kicked it away; I could already hear the sirens going off from a distance.

Shrugging the cold water off my eyes, I put my gun between his foreyes, as he rolled to his back and looked at me with pleading eyes.

"Please..."he begged, panting. "Spare me...please- I won't tell anyone w-w-who you are. Please!"

"Shut up!"

I pressed the barrel harshly to his head, death in my eyes. Kill him, I thought to myself. Kill him, kill him, kill him!

But at that point, I couldn't. I couldn't kill this man, and I don't know why. It's as if an invisible force is forbidding me to do so, I could not pull the trigger. I looked at him, and dropped my gun to my side.

"Get the fuck away from us," I whispered deathly to him. "I won't be as merciful next time." He nods. Sneering, I put the gun in my holster, and began walking away, at first never taking my eyes off of him. Sighing, I began looking straight ahead, wiping the cold rain off my face.

Fuck! Why did I do that? Why? Why is it only now I let him go? He was a threat, for God's sake. He was a murderer, and will be again since I let him go. Why? Mumbling to myself, I never noticed the footsteps behind me.

Then, a sharp pain on my right side, and I screamed in horror. I looked around, and found the man looking smugly at me, saying something in another language. I palmed heeled his nose, and he fell backwards ungracefully. He grunted when his body made contact to the cold concrete, and tried to get back up. Shivering, I got my gun out, and shot him multiple times on his torso

I cried out in pain, as I looked at my bloody side: a piece of brown tainted glass stuck on my side. Sucking a breath of fresh air, I painfully got the glass out. Fortunately, it wasn't deep in me, but it was deep enough to cause a lot of bleeding. Whimpering, I shakily got my iPhone out and dialed for Carrie.

"Hello? Did you get them?" she asks.

Panting, I cleared my throat and started jogging as the sirens were only a half a mile away.

"Y-yes," I said rather weakly. "I took care of them."

The buildings around me started dancing, my eyes heavy.

"S-shit..." I whispered pathetically to the phone. "I'm not s-sure if I can make it..."

Weakly, I got my two guns out, and threw them into the dumpster, closing it afterwards. Putting my hand on the brick wall for support, my body began to betray me and started to sway back and forth.

"What," Carrie said with concern in the other line," are you okay?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I pushed myself and continued to half-jog to my car. What's the use, I thought. I couldn't make it that far. I dropped the phone on the ground, and started to fall.

"Track me," I tried telling to the phone's direction. "Track me!"

All was darkness afterwards.

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(The prisoner inside cell fifty-nine stirred, awakened. The prisoner doesn't know if it was day or night, nor does the prisoner know the date. Dizzy, the prisoner leaned against the wall, emotionless. The prisoner doesn't know anything.)

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I opened my eyes, my body feeling like a thousand pounds, vision unclear. I moaned and tried getting up, but a soft hand pushed my shoulder down. Hissing because of the sharp pain on my right side, another hand hovered my wound. I squinted my eyes to see where I was, and came to the conclusion that I was in my hotel room.

"It's okay," a familiar voice said, softly massaging my shoulder. "You're safe."

I began to relax, and muttered something unintelligent, but I know the last word I muttered was "Charlie."

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A few days later, I was finally recovered thanks to Carrie and her quick thinking; I figured out she did track me and drove herself to my location. She even stitched me up herself, but my side was still sore as hell. During those days, Charlie would talk to me through the phone, asking me why I haven't been in Tru and such.

"I caught something at work, and I'm not feeling so hot right now," I tried telling her.

"Aww," she said in a cute voice. "Want me to come over?"

"No," I had said immediately. "I mean, I don't want you to get sick either."

During those days, we talked and talked through the phone, sometimes even two hours straight. We would talk about anything to work to our love lives. Well, mostly her love life.

She told me when it comes to love, she cautious since she was cheated three times from her previous boyfriends.

"How can they do that to you!?" I said incredulously. "That doesn't do any justice for you. You're beautiful and smart, anyone can fall for you!"

She giggled on the other line.

"Well, I don't know," she said a bit sadly. "I guess it's my personality. Most of my friends tell me it's because of my shyness and ingressiveness. I guess I can be a little naïve too."

"You know what I think?"

"What?"

I waited a few seconds and smiled," That's bullshit."

"There you go again," she giggled. "You know, I feel so comfortable talking to you. I mean I know we only became friends for a couple of months now, but I don't know. I feel...safe when I'm talking to you. That sounds so lame, sorry."

As I put a silencer on my gun, I stopped breathing. My heart started thumping and felt like bursting through my chest, like an animal wanting to get out of its cage. I smiled unconsciously.