The TV droned a sitcom with the usual laugh track after a verbal jab or intricate joke made to appear effortless on the character's part. The cheesiness of it all reminded Sean of lazy moments with his dad late some nights.
Unfortunately, now Sean had to keep his work life vague and sprinkle in subtle lies. Coworkers he refrained from naming sometimes. Any operations within the agency were classified. In case his dad asked about a particular topic that he fabricated, Sean wrote down the versions he expected his dad to repeat, so the lies would hold.
Before Sean chose the path others urged him to avoid last year, he'd often curse himself on the impulsiveness of the decision. Though, the self-loathing came from lack of preparation rather than regret.
In the kitchen, Sean removed the skillet from the cabinet along with a package of ground beef. He lined up spices along with taco seasoning. Flicking on the stove's fire, Sean let the raw meat fall to the skillet, letting the heat do its work.
His body involuntarily went through the motions as his thoughts swam. Where should I start? The most interesting and eye-catching are the khata that are now my allies. How exactly are they made? The question tugged at Sean's mind ever since he survived the island.
Thankfully, they didn't slack on training me and providing me with all this. Indeed, Sean's training consisted of combat instruction, map reading, a refresher of basic human behavior, and guidance in how to reverse a situation in his favor. Whether that guidance aided in his machinations or recognition of someone else pulling strings, either way the benefits were obvious.
Knock. Knock.
Taking two seconds to separate a couple blocks of beef and throw them around the skillet, Sean drifted to the door and twisted the knob.
Opening it a crack, a man with dark brown hair and eyes all too optimistic waved. Before Sean's head disappeared and the door shut, the man slapped the door to keep it from closing.
"I've only made enough for myself." Sean shot a glare.
"Stop being a dick." The man rolled his eyes.
"I'm just coming to check on you for a bit."
Sean sighed and released the doorknob and went back to the kitchen. The meat is almost completely browned. He began adding spices and the taco seasoning.
The man walked through the door. He wore a leather jacket with distressed dark blue jeans and high-top shoes. His hair was in a buzzcut.
"Hurry up and say whatever you're going to tell me, Carson. I don't have all night." Sean lowered the heat to let the spiced meat simmer. Carson plopped on the couch and rested elbows on his knees.
"You know... you could definitely use a drink or two. Maybe for once you won't be such a stick up the ass." Carson jeered. I can't even legally drink alcohol. Sean mentally jabbed Carson's implication.
Carson's mood descended a couple notches as he saw a vacancy in Sean's eyes.
"The agency has some world-renowned therapists." Carson exaggerated but Sean understood his point.
"I'm alright." Sean said.
"I've heard they sent you on a couple of simple missions. Simple grab and go ones specifically." Carson recalled. He scouted one of them, keeping minor trouble away from Sean.
"You finished training this week? How was California?"
"It's been a month." Sean scooped some meat into a container and left the rest in the skillet as he grabbed a bag of chips from the top of the refrigerator.
"You didn't tell me anything. What, have you been a shut in for a month?" Carson asked but he abstained from waiting for an answer.
"How long has the Agency...?"
"I'm meeting with Glass in a couple of days for a full brief. They've already given me a few details regarding what our objective is." Sean summarized.
"Glass...?" Her name rolled off Carson's tongue in more of a surprise than a question. Carson studied Sean for a moment. His black hair. The soft cheek bones and a lack of facial hair. Makes sense. Carson sighed.
~
Orange and yellow leaves either floated or flew into the distance. Ripples in the water multiplied as geese coasted, every now and then letting out deep, honks to attract.
A chess board rested on a small high wood table, supported by a single thick leg.
A hand with a dark complexion moved a white pawn up one square. On the other side, a fairly slender hand directed one of the black knights ahead of most of the pawns.
"Interesting..." The voice exhibited an air of calculation yet not a trace of stress or seriousness existed. Light and feminine.
"What number game is this? The sixty-second since you came back?" The feminine voice continued.
"It could be I just really enjoy playing with you." Zuri mused and positioned her pieces for future counters and entrapments.
"At least you haven't lost your way with words." She smiled, adjusting to Zuri's strategy.
"Of course, not. You really think I'd let some powerless little shit and his... dog set me back after all the progress I've made." The pride in Zuri's tone wavered as she quivered at the memory.
Sean is gone... and Glass told me Azhir is shipping out in a few days to that college town in Arkansas. The only other person I'd really have to watch out for is his sister. But she isn't unreasonable... most of the time, anyway.
The woman's eyes squinted.
"The whole situation just became unpredictable. If he wasn't there, I would've handled everything smoothly. And we would've had more bodies to use." Zuri convinced herself. Not that I'd care.
The woman laughed, showing the whites of her teeth.
"Cute." She knocked one of Zuri's knights and snatched her prize.
"Sending you on straightforward missions seemed like the right call to make. I don't doubt your capability to conform to the scene, but we aren't the only organization with people like you. There could be other people like The Demonic Trinity though, I have certainty he's better than any competition." She observed as Zuri used her pawn predictably to strike.
A few strands of blonde hair sagged in her vision, but the woman's attention didn't break. Fingers carried the strands behind her ear. Zuri made another move.
"Sounds like a waste of resources." Zuri criticized.
"No skin off your nose, right? We'll have to deal with any agents who don't come back, and the fallout can be a bit pricey." She complained then freed her queen.
"Check."
Zuri winced at her lack of perception. She incorporated the appropriate counter measure... or what she believed was the most adequate. Nonetheless, three moves later, Zuri stared at her exposed king.
"Checkmate."
"Damn you, Olivia." Zuri grumbled. Olivia smiled. Scooting out; she swiped her purse before sauntering off.
Zuri leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. What does that make my record with her now? ...10-52? Wish I could've done this there. Zuri recognized that mastering pieces was easier when aware of their distinct talents but independent volatile pieces, were exceptionally difficult, if not impossible to navigate.
I've already read the details from the report on the area, and the type of people we're dealing with. Who all are they bringing in though? The max that I'd assign to this little operation is four agents. Then again, it depends on what the actual objective is.
Zuri watched the ducks flap their wings in the pond.
~
The lamp light flickered.
Two and a half damn hours. Isha massaged her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut with a groan. Reading textbooks that were at least a little over one hundred dollars and highlighting important passages brought back exhausting memories of high school. The impulse intruded for Isha to say, 'fuck this' and fill out her notice of withdrawal.
But a little mental anguish failed to compare to the regret for missed opportunities later. Security needed a foundation after all.
Slamming the textbook shut, Isha scooched her chair across the floor and stood. Fuel... that's it... I need fuel.
Smoothing her ginger hair, Isha snatched a windbreaker jacket from her closet and pocketed her keys into the side pocket of her jeans.
Once out of her apartment dorm, she locked it and casually strolled to the cafeteria. She passed under large pecan trees, the brick paths that led to dorm houses, different buildings dedicated to a certain subject, or merely the parking lot.
Isha seldom regarded the few students. One carried a red crossbody bag that had a thin black line on the flap. Another student whose hair contained purple highlights and a little mascara had a simple backpack and a small book in hand.
Before entering the cafeteria, she marched upstairs from the bottom floor with a multitude of offices and a technology center. The walls were smooth wood, and the common area was filled with love seats and couches where students either read or typed on their laptops.
Working her way in the short line, she felt a couple of taps on her shoulder. She peered behind.
"Hey, Ulyana." Isha greeted.
Ulyana gave a light wave. She wore a patterned skirt with a dark green tank top. Her black hair kept slipping over her eyes.
"This is the first time I've seen you all day. You have anything else to say?" Ulyana pouted.
Isha shrugged as she paid and grabbed her tray.
"How's the third semester going?" Ulyana asked to get Isha talking. Each of them loaded their plates with the available food. Isha waited a couple minutes to get a serving of vegetable lasagna.
"Alright... so far anyway. Workload isn't as bad as I assumed. The content is almost overwhelming though. Maybe it's good I didn't sign up right after graduating high school."
Isha scanned the other students chatting and grouping up, feeling out of place. The two women clinked their last plates into place and stepped into the eatery area. Not being too picky, Isha sat at a table in the corner. Ulyana followed.
"This weekend, some students are going to the county over to hit up a nightclub. Perfect to celebrate me turning twenty-one last week, right?" Ulyana beamed cheerily.
Isha took a bite of her food and chewed before responding. "I know someone who has some alcohol you can drink here if you're waiting to do that but..."
"I'm not a lightweight. I had some in freshman year of high school." Ulyana waved a hand in front of her face.
"Forget the alcohol. Come on. You need a break from all this. Dance a little or just enjoy the atmosphere. The drinks are just meant to make the experience more enjoyable."
Isha shook her head.
"I've got better things to do than get wasted and shake my ass." Isha replied bluntly.
"I thought you'd want to live the college life." Ulyana's eyes swept the eatery with frustration.
Isha managed well on her own when it came to discussing school and other subjects but often, Ulyana would witness her depart a conversation if small rumors or irrelevant topics surfaced.
"Let me guess, you've already spent a few years drinking in the nightlife."
Isha scoffed. "Barely."
No damn fun at all. Ulyana ate and a silence fell over the two. Isha ate but ruminated over the offer. It really is a waste of time. I could catch up on that new TV show. Possibly do a refresher. But, knowing Ulyana...
Isha sighed.
"I'll think about it." Better that I'm the designated driver. Isha concluded internally as Ulyana smiled.
~
Cupping one hand around the end of a cigarette, Isha held it steady as she flicked her lighter a couple of times before letting the flame engulf the tobacco.
Immediately, the fire peeled the white off the sides as Isha captured the cigarette between her fingers to pull out and blow two seconds of smoke.
She coughed a couple of times and leaned on her back door.
What I'd give to trade for this. Ha... it could've been worse. Isha inhaled again. Across the parking lot, Isha spotted a woman exiting a car. She walked with urgency and seemed lost in thought.
"Abby? " Isha got her attention. Abby held her gaze for a fraction of a second as acknowledgment.
What are you doing out so late at night?" Isha puffed.
"Arrangements. I'm helping someone out until he can get back on his feet." Abby approached her door and drew her keys.
"Oh?" Isha said surprised, but Abby went into her apartment without another word.