So begin at the beginning I guess.
My first solo mission, it was in a big nightclub just outside the city and I had to dress in a much more um, grown up way than I generally do.
My mission (should I choose to…. Bla blah!)
All I had to do was wait until a particular man left his card at the bar, walk over and pick it up then leave. It was very, very simple (So simple in fact, I had been a little insulted that Director Moore felt the need to go over it with me about one thousand times) which makes it all the more humiliating to admit that I couldn’t even do that.
He left the card and I did pick it up (woo for being able to perform the most basic of tasks) but on my way out of the club I felt a hand clamp over my mouth (time to panic!) as I went invisible I felt a sharp sting in my neck and I could see again, (which generally means I am not invisible anymore) they must have given me the power suppressant drug. (Lets celebrate the knowledge that they still have some of that.)
I was dragged into the back offices of the club; they pulled me through a small room filled with video monitors (I guess surveillance) and into a tiny office at the back of the building. I am at least proud to admit that I was not even the slightest bit compliant, not with the dragging and not with the short bout of questioning/screaming/smacking about that ensued. (although I’m pretty sure my resistance would not have held up over any length of time.)
At this particular point, in this tiny office being held up by two “thugs/henchmen” with another one in front of me screaming and waiving a gun in my face, I was trying to imagine what story my family would be told. What would they think had happened to me, would it be laughably tragic or would it make me seem at least a little less disappointing than I am in reality?
I’m sure I should have been focusing on the questions being shouted into my face and the bruises that were developing on my arms, or the pain in my shoulder (who knew dislocating your shoulder once almost a year ago would still cause problems) but at the same time focusing on something else was probably the only reason I hadn’t broken down and told them everything I know, my life story and anything else they wanted to know. (I am a font of female pop star trivia.)
That’s when the door swung open hard, like it had just been kicked in. I heard a sickening kind of cracking noise and the two men holding me up dropped to the ground. I also hit the ground (as my legs had already given out when the gun had initially been introduced to my eye-line) and pushed myself up slightly to see the two dead bodies lying at either side of me. I looked up at the third man, who had been pointing the gun at me, he was suspended in mid air, his gun also seemingly floating, pointed at his head, I heard the clicking of it being cocked… and then…
BANG!
I looked at the ground just in time to see it being splattered with blood. I heard the thump of his limp body dropping to the ground like a rag doll. (…)
There was the noise of slightly wet footsteps over the now wet floor and two very expensive, very stylish shoes appeared in front of me. I forced myself to look up, seeing a very well tailored suit; perfectly wrinkle free shirt and meticulously knotted tie and then a face. Handsome, thin, upper class looking, with that side parting of hair not one strand out of place.
A face that, by now I shouldn’t ever be surprised to see when I’m facing mortal danger.
To Be continued…
