The Agent

"We're all on this, agent. Agent 20 is following his trail, but it won't be easy to track him and it will take time. For the meantime, however, rest, heal, and rehabilitate."

With that, she turned and started walking towards the door. The nurse came in with a tray filled with food, but I wasn't hungry. More than anything, I was frustrated and focused my rage on Alfonso. That bastard, I thought to myself. He'll pay for this. He'll pay for what he has done.

"Frieda," I called out to her. Frieda stopped mid-track. "This desk agent, Agent 20, are they any good?"

"You mean she, agent seventy-six," Frieda replied without turning. "And yes, she's one of the best. Hacking skills, technology, criminology, you name it. One day she'll contact you if she found anything useful. If you're planning on tracking her down, don't bother. Like Alfonso, she's a ghost and sometimes we need a ghost to catch a ghost."

"Contact me how?"

"Contact you in person, of course. It can take weeks, months, even years if it comes to that."

The nurse changed my bandages while I started eating. It hurts even to chew.

"Oh, if ever she does contact you, don't call her agent 20. She hates that."

"Yea?" I said, slowly sipping my water through a straw. "What should I call her then? Just agent?"

"Nope," Frieda opened the door and stepped out, "she prefers to be called Carrie."

With that, she closed the door behind her leaving me in my thoughts.

But Carrie never contacted me. Three years has passed and not one agent contacted me. My recovery was slow but steady. After months of Physical Therapy, I could finally walk then eventually run as fast as I can. My reflexes were quicker and muscles bulkier, but not too bulky.

After I passed every stress tests they had, I was discharged and fully reinstated, but I couldn't continue on the Alfonso case until Carrie contacted me. It was frustrating knowing that Alfonso was still out there.

Patiently I waited, but for the meantime I did mostly small cases: assassinations, kidnapping, getting information, etc. It took me a year-and-a-half to heal and another six months to be in the field again. I was restless. Carrie, I thought to myself. Whoever the fuck you are, find what I need!

I opened my eyes and looked at the white ceiling once again. Ritually, I got out of my bed and looked at myself in the mirror. For almost five years now, I kept reminding myself who I was and why I do what I do. Who are you, I thought to myself.

I am Pamela Pearson, also known as agent seventy-six. Currently twenty-four years old with long black raven coloured hair, fair skin, and brown eyes. With the height of 5'6 and weight of 137 lbs, I'm very built, but not bulky. I specialize in Tae Kwon Do, Krav Maga, MMA, Kickboxing, and weaponry.

Like other agents, I was chosen from birth and was raised in a military base under a secret facility called the Agency. I went through multiple exams and homework from age five till thirteen. There were multiple students, but close relationships were discouraged. I never knew my parents, but I do know they were also agents. In fact, I never knew any of my relatives.

It was at the age of fifteen that changed my life because on my birthday I held my first gun. For two years, I trained vigorously and hard for the field. Everything from combats, weaponry, strategies, to how to picklock professionally, I studied and perfected them all. It was when I was seventeen I received my first mission and when I first killed a fifty years old congresswoman, who had a family that depended on her. She was killed with my knife instantly. Regardless, I didn't cry nor grieved for her.

I finally got out of the underground base a month after my first assignment and lived in society as a normal citizen. Equipments were shipped to me after every assignment I completed, but they were always personally delivered in my front steps at my current base. Money wasn't a problem. I had a single powerful credit card that had unlimited amount of money and a $3,500 amount of cash delivered to me every month.

Since then, I went from one assignment to another for the past years. No social life, no romantic ties, nothing. The government owns me from birth till death and if I tried to run away, I'd be killed immediately without warning.

Jason was my first partner in the field and through many disagreements with the Agency, we worked on the Alfonso case together for six months. We became close like brother and sister and argued like a married couple, but we were nothing beyond close friends. Jason was inexperienced compared to me, but he was smart.

Even though there were field agents to do the tracking and paperwork for us, Jason had his ways in hacking computers. Such a shame, I thought to myself. He would've made a good agent. However, it still boggles me why the Agency paired him up with me in the first place since every agent knows I work better alone.

Currently, I'm staying in a small hotel just outside of Chicago, Illinois having completed an assignment. It's autumn, but the wind was chillier than I wished. I looked at my watch: it was already 3 P.M. I had no other reason to linger in this room, but all I wanted to do was lay on my bed and sleep. The Agency had no new assignment for me yet, so why shouldn't I? It's not your style to stay in one place, I thought to myself. Always on the move to keep the bad guys away.

I decided to take a shower first, pack later, and wait for a new assignment to come. Once I stepped under the hot shower, the world outside didn't exist. It was just me and my thoughts. I shampooed my hair and scrubbed my body with soap, washing the small traces of dried blood and grime away.

Flashes of Alfonso's square face flickered in my mind. The sound of the baton crashing against Jason's body echoed around me. Different shades of red splattered across my vision. It's getting worse, I thought to myself. These visions won't stop until I get my hands on Alfonso. I shivered even though drops of hot water rolled down my skin.

Then the shivering stopped as the hairs at the back of my neck stood erect. I stood motionlessly as my ears strained to hear a small sound outside the locked bathroom door. Someone was in my room. The sound was faint, like a small creaking noise of the floor, but I heard it. Cautiously, I went out from the shower and wrapped a white towel around my body.

A small surge of adrenaline rush flowed through my blood vessels. I crouched down and grabbed a small gun that was taped underneath the sink. I pushed my ear against the door and waited. Then I heard again that small creaking noise, and judging from where it was coming from it was near my luggage.

That gives it a fifty-fifty chance of having its body away from the bathroom door, I thought to myself. I held my breath when I gingerly unlocked the door and swung it open just enough for me to squeeze through.

The intruder was slim, maybe an inch shorter than me with long wavy red hair. A woman, I thought to myself. She was wearing a grey trench coat, some black pants, and boots. She had something in her hands, but I knew she was armed somehow. Silent as a panther, I walked up behind her with my gun levelled with her skull.

A small creak boomed through the room and I knew I stepped on a weak floor spot. The woman stopped what she was doing and tensed up. Before I could react, she turned quickly and disarmed me. The gun dropped to the floor and she slid it across the room with her foot. Bad move, I thought to myself. I did a punch, but she defended herself. For every attack I executed, she managed to counter attack them.

Panting, I did a small battle cry and attempted to do a throw down on her, but she was quick. She immediately crouched down and palmed me on my abdomen. I faltered, but attacked her back with a kick. Once she blocked my foot, I saw her gun inside her trench coat. Now's your chance, I thought quickly. I swooped in with my right hand, but her own hand grabbed my throat. I gasped.

I took one good look at her and the first thing that I noticed was her green eyes. I've seen those before, I thought to myself. I think I've seen them in my dreams.

"Agent-" she exasperatedly said, but I broke out from her grasp and attempted another throwdown. She was taken by surprise judging by the look on her face. Her body came crashing down to the floor and I took the opportunity to straddle her hips, grab her gun, and push the barrel of the gun against her neck.

"Who are you?" I said, breathing hard. "No lies."

As she was pinned down by my body, the woman studied me curiously with her green bright eyes. Her oval face was almost flawless, but I could see there were bits of freckles across her pointed nose and cheeks. Her pinkish lips were almost full as they were pouting at me. She had a cute, young and innocent look like Margo Harshman , but she also had a mature, fierce, graceful, and wise look on her like a younger Rosamund Pike. Apart from her eyes, her fiery red hair was where my focus was at and it reminded me of Hayley William's hair, but a tad darker. Mix them all together and we get this perfect recipe of a mysterious woman who broke into my room armed.

"It's agent twenty," she finally answered. "It's me. Carrie."

My heart skipped a beat. Could it be?

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"I have some news about Alfonso's whereabouts," she explained, then paused as her eyes scanned me from my hip to my face. Apparently, my white towel fell on the floor when we were fighting. She cleared her throat and looked me in the eye, "But I think it's better for the both of us if you put some clothes on first."

There was a small smile on her mouth. Scowling at her, I grabbed the towel and stood up. "Keep talking while I get dressed."

- - - - - - - -

"So let me get this straight," I said to Carrie while we ate Chinese take out in the hotel room. "Alfonso is actually right here in Chicago?" I was sitting on the bed while Carrie sat at the opposite side of me.

"Yes," she said back. "He became visible under my radar once it was apparent that he was on U.S. soil. Sure it was still a little hard to pinpoint where he was located at first. It was like finding a needle in piles of haystack. He was good, but he made one amateur mistake." She chewed thoughtfully and opened her mini laptop. At the corner of my eye, I was looking at her. More specifically, her eyes. They remind me of something, I thought to myself. I just can't wrap my mind around it.

"Here," she suddenly said and locked eyes with mine. "It's a fucking speeding ticket that happened outside of Chicago a week ago. And look at this police dash cam."

She turned the laptop screen to me and a video clip showing a policeman asking a man to step out from his car was being played. Once the tall, chubby man stepped out for inspection, he looked at the police car.

And there he was, I instantly knew I was looking at Alfonso's face. My blood boiled at the sight of him casually talking and laughing with the officer. You son of a bitch, I thought to myself.

"From there," Carrie continued," I followed his every step through cameras, police dash cams, everywhere. The only lead I have so far is he's meeting up with someone at Navy Pier around midnight two days from now." She looked at me worriedly. "That's why I decided to contact you."

Carrie followed close to his trail all right. Thousands of satellite photos, online documents, everything that involved him, they were stored in multiple folders in her desktop.

"Why did you wait till now to contact me?" I asked her as I browsed through her laptop. "I could've helped you, you know. I'm not entirely useless."

"I know that, agent," she answered. "But I prefer working alone when it comes to tracking him down. You would've been in my way."

I gave her a sharp look which she returned with an apologetic smile. "According to your files, agent, you're personally tied with this assignment. On the other hand, I am very objective and efficient, not to mention skilful in dealing with cyberhacking and digital tracking online. I have my set of skills as a desk agent and you have yours as a field agent."

Can't argue with that logic. "Do you know why he's here?"

"That I'm not 100% sure with," she laid flat on her back and stretched. "He did, however, meet up with an gang leader named Big Al two days ago. Italian guy most famous for gun, drugs, and human trafficking at the upper part of Chicago. That can't be good, right?"

"No it'd make sense if he wanted to meet with him," I answered, trying to ignore the fact that a beautiful woman is laying on the same bed I'm currently sleeping in. "Alfonoso is big on trafficking."

But why Chicago? Sure the city was filled with criminals, but it wasn't known for trafficking activities compared to other third world cities. I yawned. It was only 9 P.M. yet I felt like all my energy has drained. Carrie laid on her stomach and looked at me curiously with her green eyes. Underneath the trench coat she wore, the maroon turtleneck and black tight jeans looked natural on her.

Sexy even.

"I hope you don't mind me telling you this, but you look like shit."

"I had a late night finishing up an assignment," I answered. That was a big lie. I know the lack of sleep and my insomnia were due to my nightmares and flashbacks. I leaned back and looked at her tiredly. "Took all my energy all throughout the night. Of course, you wouldn't know anything about that being a desk agent and all."

Carrie gave a low chuckle and pursed her lips together. "By all means, agent. Sleep. I'll keep you company." She rolled over at the edge of the bed and walked towards the table with laptop in hand. She closed the curtains and started typing away with her back facing me.

I feel like I know you from somewhere, I thought to myself. I just know I've met you, but I can't recall when and under what circumstances. I've met desk agents in the past and they all shared the same characteristics: anal, no-nonsense attitude, and eerily quiet. I didn't really care nor did I befriended them. Carrie, on the other hand, had something unique compared with the others: a sense of mutual teamwork.

Other desk agents would've given the information, then leave until new information was found or needed something else from the field agent. With Carrie, I sensed that she wanted to work with the case side-by-side with me. But why, I thought to myself. Isn't that a little suspicious?

It was a little suspicious, but for right now she's the only person who knows how to track Alfonso. I don't mind if I work alongside with her, I thought to myself. She's useful.

Or maybe it's the fact that I couldn't stop staring at her.

"You know it's rude to stare, don't you agent?" Carrie suddenly said, her back still facing me. My head whipped forward and cleared my throat. "Sorry, just thinking."

"Happy thoughts, I hope?"

"Do you have your own room or are you staying in mine?"

"If you don't mind, agent," she replied without turning. "I was wondering if I can sleep in your bed just for tonight? It wouldn't make sense to get myself a room since we'll be leaving soon."

"I suppose you're right," I answered thoughtfully. "Just...don't wake me up when you're going to bed. Don't touch me unless you want to be punched."

I felt my back make contact with the soft mattress and instantly I felt my eyes become heavy. Relief took over once I felt the hard gun underneath my pillow. Under ten minutes, Mr. Sandman took me under his wing.

- - - - - - - -

I'm dreaming, I thought to myself.

I was at the same warehouse three years ago. A lone figure was standing over a bloodied corpse tied to a chair. It was shooting at it multiple times at the head. Stop, I thought to myself. It's already dead. My heart beat faster and faster as I got nearer to the figure, then stopped once I got a better view of the corpse. It was Jason.

There's not an inch on his body that wasn't covered in blood. The hole at his temple got bigger everytime the figure shot at him. I staggered once his eyes met mine. That same look he gave me that night was permanently engraved on his face: rage and blame. Daggers of guilt stabbed the very depth of my soul knowing that I'm still alive and he's not.

The figure stopped shooting and slowly turned itself to me, expecting Alfonso's face.

Horrified, I was looking at my own face.

"You killed him," it said. "You should be dead. You...don't deserve to live."

No, I screamed inside my thoughts. This is a nightmare. Wake up! My face smirked at me and pointed the gun at my head. "But that doesn't matter now, does it? Because you're already dead." It pulled the trigger.

- - - - - - - -

I bolted upright, grabbed the gun under my pillow, and pointed the gun at...nothing once again. Pools of sweat on the bedsheet outlined my body. At the corner of my eye, I saw Carrie pointing a gun my way. She was still in front of her laptop, but her whole body was turned towards me. My body shook from both cold and fear as flashes of my nightmare replayed through my mind.

Gingerly, I lowered my arm down and flopped down. It's getting worse and worse everynight, I thought to myself. This was the first night I dreamed of another me. I didn't know what was worse: dreaming of Alfonso killing Jason or dreaming of another me killing my partner.

"Agent?" Carrie cautiously called out. "Are you okay? What happe-"

"We'll leave in four hours," I interrupted as I stared blankly at the ceiling. "Get ready till then." An awkward silence passed between us, but Carrie didn't ask any more questions. I turned my back on her when I heard her typing on her laptop. I fell asleep twenty minutes after.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, I sensed another body on the bed. Delicate fingers wiped away the sweat and strands of hair on my face.

I slept a little better.

- - - - - - - - -

When I woke up shivering, I realised that my blanket was no longer on my body. No, Carrie took it all. She was wrapped up in a ball with it with her head poking out. Her body took most of the space of the bed. "Jesus," I whispered quietly.

It was already 2 A.M. It's time to go, I thought to myself. Total of five hours of sleep is enough for me.

"Carrie," I firmly called out. "Carrie, come on. We gotta go." I patted her cheek, but she swiped it away. "Carrie!"

Alarmed, she opened her eyes and slowly sat up. It was almost comical seeing her wrapped up in a blanket with her messy hair, blinking continuously and yawning as she scanned the room. I was putting on my sweater, but when she decided to brush the blanket off her, my eyes widened.

"How are you wearing that!?" I blurted out as I quickly turned around. She wore her bra and panties to bed. "I mean, why-"

"It's the only outfit I can sleep soundly in, agent," she replied sheepishly. "Besides, you didn't complain when I cuddled up with you after you constantly turned and talked in your sleep-"

"What do you mean cuddled?" I asked in panic. "You know what, never mind. Get dressed, we really need to go."

Carried replied with a laugh. "I'm joking, seventy-six. We slept on the same bed, nothing more. Don't think too much of it." With that, I heard her walking towards the bathroom. Sighing, I continued putting my clothes on, but I knew deep down inside I wouldn't mind a woman like her cuddling with me.

- - - - - - - -

For two hours, I drove my black Honda Accord on the highway while Carrie played with the radio station. She attempted to make small talks during the ride, but my responses where short and direct. She was a little restless, playing with the controls on the dashboard and tapping her fingernails on the window. Jesus, I thought to myself annoyed. It's like riding with a teenager.