Azhir emptied his mind for the book to absorb him wholly.
TV never offered the escapism he desired. The characters and the environment were always concrete. Interpretation wasn't as open.
Sometimes, Azhir found enjoyment in being wrong. To him, it meant a sense of freedom.
A smile played on his expression as his eyes trailed each line. High in a corner, a wall clock ticked silently. The AC further massaged his temperament. His face shone with contentment.
Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.
Eyes narrowing, Azhir measured the door, but his gaze went back to his book, prepared.
Then... the door creaked open.
Azhir's nose latched onto a strong candied raspberry scent. His grip on the cover instinctively flexed as if it'd jump out of his hands. His expression lost its smile, adopting blank eyes.
Around the door, Chloe appeared. She eased the door inward until it clicked shut. Resting hands on her hips, she grunted.
"Really? Two months?" She huffed as she strode in front of him. Azhir's eyes steadily examined every word, yet his brain transcribed none of it.
"No text. No, 'hey, I'm going to be out for a little bit. Conway sent me out on a little task.' What if you had died?" Chloe planted on the cushion beside Azhir. The world would be somewhat of a better place.
"Live with it. Informing us of a mission with time to prepare isn't a luxury people like us are granted often." Azhir's statement emanated coldness. Chloe tilted her head.
"Last year told me everything. You could've been one of those corpses on that island, and I'd have to replay the last time we spoke to each other... over and over again." Chloe bit her lip.
Azhir sensed Chloe's genuine anxiety before being snuffed out by a darker selfishness. He glanced at the door.
"What are you reading?" Chloe questioned out of idle curiosity.
Azhir refused to amuse. Giggling, Chloe slowly reached up and twirled a finger in one of his white-streaked dreads. His breathing quickened for a couple of seconds before he pacified himself.
"Am I getting the silent treatment now?" She smirked.
"Has Sadie had the talk with you?"
"Talk?" Azhir conjured up the last time he'd seen Sadie. Six months ago, their meeting was brief. Obviously, Sadie avoided conducting any moves against him.
"I don't know why you persist to lead her on as if she'd have any victory over you. Is she always going to be hoping for a miracle? Hell, I'm surprised she didn't die last year." Her hand drifted down Azhir's neck.
Azhir flinched and dropped his book. He gripped her wrist, exerting more strength than necessary to keep her still and to hammer his point.
"You've gotten a bit bolder." Chloe purred upon seeing the stoicism wiped from Azhir's face.
Through his closed lips, she discerned a growl. Vigorously, Chloe clutched Azhir by the throat and pushed him into the couch. A knee launched into Azhir's abdomen and rested there.
"Do you need a reminder?" Chloe softly spoke. Azhir gritted his teeth as he glared defiantly.
Sooner or later, Azhir realized he'd have to get to this step in order to break out of this cycle.
"That bitch definitely scrambled those brain cells of yours." Chloe met his eyes as she tapped his forehead. Azhir's eyes flew left, hating himself for not defending her. He felt Chloe's knee shift. Lily wasn't someone you should look down on.
"Get off me... get off..." There wasn't a boom to Azhir's voice. Instead, it sounded like a plea. While Chloe appeared distracted, Azhir used his free hand to swing at her jaw, but she caught it expertly. She laughed.
"Still trying to claw back those sorry ass losses?" Chloe goaded. Azhir struggled but Chloe held him in place.
Hollow wood echoed and a stern voice came from the other side.
"Agent Azhir, you were told that departure was at two o'clock. It's ten minutes till."
Azhir and Chloe stared at one another. A smile was absent on his face but on her face, she couldn't help but exhibit a mischievous grin.
"... I'll be right out, Mr. Conway." Azhir replied eventually.
The shifting of shoes and the echo of the contact it made with the floor faded subtly. Disappointed, Chloe released Azhir and stepped back. Azhir rose off the couch and adjusted his clothes. Before he fled, he peered at Chloe. She retained an infuriating grin.
Arriving in the hallway, Azhir trudged forward, his body trembling. One part screamed to get as far away as possible. However, the other wished he'd stay. He loathed that part of himself.
~
Thanks to autumn's arrival, Isha was in the mood to walk to work. Breezes and the sound of the town's traffic reminded her that even though she wasn't in the best place in life, she determined her own pace to success.
Given the short distance from campus to her job, Isha traversed past a coffee shop, a community church, and finally to the back of the store.
Settled, she nudged the cigarette box out of her back pocket. I should still have about five or ten minutes. Isha checked her phone before throwing it in her other back pocket.
Taking out the lighter, she shook the cigarette box before forcing a cigarette up and grabbing it with her teeth. One clink later and Isha expelled smoke like a train's steam engine.
Three more years of this. That means I'll graduate at what... thirty-one? Thirty-two? Not even taking into account if I'd want to start a master's degree or not. Then again, if it means having enough money to never need to stay in that neighborhood again, I'll achieve a doctorate. Isha chuckled.
The back door opened up revealing a man with a prominent chin and a beard that covered the lower part of his face. He wore a long-sleeved shirt and tan khakis. From a single glance, anyone could tell he'd spent most of his life doing physically demanding labor.
"I was wondering where you were." He addressed Isha.
"I've never been late since you hired me, Henry." Isha chortled.
"... Usually, you're right on time though. Never early."
"The last class today was canceled. The professor didn't feel all that well." Isha stubbed the cigarette out on a trash can.
"Maybe it's the changing of the season or something."
~
Stepping off on the sixth floor, Sean adjusted his black backpack. His eyes flit from one door to the other, observing the various name tags. Imagining his name being on one of those tags in a normal office setting brought a small smile to his face.
Outside Glass' office door, Sean approached.
Reaching for the doorknob, the door clicked and he retracted a step. The sight before him failed to make him wince.
A man his height and build buttoned the last couple of buttons on his shirt as he acknowledged
Sean tersely acknowledged. Rowan? Sean met him in training. Neither of them held any grudge toward one another, nor did they speak much. Sean always believed they merely recognized one another as acquaintances.
Passing the doorway, Sean eased the door to a small crack.
Glass sauntered to her desk as she adjusted her hair with no shame, ensuring her collar folded properly and straightened out her skirt suit. After a long stretch, she motioned for Sean to sit.
"I thought I'd see you more excited to go on a mission like this." Glass perched on the edge of her desk, repositioning her mug and crossing her legs. In the span of less than a week, I nearly died three or four times so forgive me for my lack of optimism. Sean scrutinized.
"What's the aim here?" Sean cut the small talk.
Glass exhaled. "In the area we're sending you, they have a local gang there. They aren't anyone noteworthy. For the most part, they've been sparse. Rob when they can, snatch a candy bar off the convenience store shelf and sneak out. Pulling firearms whenever they encounter a rival gang. You know, the usual activity. I hope you didn't skim over that section of the report."
No change in expression on Sean's face, Glass nodded approvingly.
"Normally, we wouldn't waste any resources into solving territorial issues born from petty grudges, but the gang has achieved more effective weaponry. That's great in reducing burglary of vehicles, but firearm trafficking is only part of the problem. Clashes with police have escalated to the point where units have to be diverted. From radio chatter, officers and dispatchers note two or three individuals that perform a few... inhuman feats."
Inhuman feats? Several questions lit up.
"Meanwhile around the city, the gang has free reign, and the city can become quite chaotic. Our concern isn't the rest of the city, but to identify the specific individuals and trace them back to their suppliers. Any names or companies you obtain, inform us so we can conduct our research."
"Similar to what we have?" Sean probed.
"The same treatment and discipline? They wouldn't survive the process." Glass provided a precise observation. Discipline and treatment are stretching it. They've gotten a less potent version? Sean pondered.
"The real question... where did they get something like that from?" Sean asked. Over the past year, Sean never had time to properly research khatas in depth, nor did he anticipate cooperation from the agency to help him learn.
They only told him so much.
Glass snapped her fingers and smirked. "That's what we need to know. There's suspicion that there's an association testing this concoction. We just need to know whether one of the groups already on our radar are trying to make an upgrade, or if this is a startup."
"Method." Sean demanded to know the strategy.
"The operation isn't as straightforward as what we sent you on in the past. So, do whatever you wish as long as the objective is done. There's a couple of others who'll be in the area. Discuss any actions with them. Extra pair of eyes. A guard. A numbers game. Who knows what'll come in handy." Glass explained.
To ensure he packed the right tools, Sean flipped his backpack between his legs and unzipped. Peeking inside, he noticed the glint from two flat metal objects with a few bumps on one edge. Confirmed, he zipped his backpack up again.
"Who's in the area, exactly?" Sean referred to his watch. It did the basic function of telling time but unlike the ones on the island, these had integrated interfaces to transmit and receive data.
"When you're in the field, I'll let you know." Glass outstretched a hand to the door.
~
Carson ignored the explicit lyrics booming from the speakers situated around the club. He merely leaned on the counter and watched men and women shouting and dancing. A few gyrated to the beat, some danced intimate with one another.
Gulping his coke mixed bourbon down, the solidity of his mind softened and a fog entered his thoughts. Nevertheless, he remained at the counter, debating with himself whether to interact or stay a spectator.
A guy passing by to grab another drink held out his hand. Naturally, Carson did the same and after clasping hands, the men pulled themselves in to bump chests. Carson saw his mouth move but didn't hear the words because of the music.
"What's up?" He responded and the guy moved on to get his drink.
Carson's watch beeped. He swiped through, viewing the details sent and the agents that'd be available in the area. He smirked at seeing one in particular. The other caused him to tilt his head a little.
Lifting off the counter, Carson nabbed a pool stick then began organizing the solid and stripe-colored balls.
They probably sent her in for assurance given who we're supposed to identify. What should I expect? Sadie wasn't a bad one to work with but this one... hopefully she doesn't demand any leadership role. I barely survived a khata before I got here and Sean... somehow, he survived too. Both of us really could've used this night... Carson regretted coming to the bar as he lined the white ball up into place.
By now, a couple of other guys grabbed pool cues for a game. Carson obliged as the triangular guard was lifted from the balls and he took aim.
"Solid."
Carson struck the white ball with keen precision, and the impact sent the other balls flying all over the table.
A solid red one eased to the end of a pocket before a yellow stripe's minimal force caused it to fall in.