JANUARY 8TH

“Did she do it?” An impatient Mr. Bishop pressed for answers once again.

In the control room, the team of five specialists waited breathlessly for the breakthrough signal to go green on their end.

Just moments ago, they had lost radio contact with their agent on the inside, Alaya.

CONTINENT DEMETER - APPlELEMUS ISLAND – GOVT SECRET FACILITY

20 MINUTES EARLIER

“I’m in the heart of A.I,” she confirms.

“Roger that. Do you have eyes on the Processing Unit?”

“Yes- implanting virus as we speak…Ahh!”

“Agent, come in, what’s happening?”

“I’m under attack…”

*static*

*static*

Just a few minutes ago, she had sedated the guards upon entering the room through the vents from above. She thought the darts had done a number on everyone in the room, but somehow this big guy managed to get back up only a few minutes later.

She was air-dropped into the ocean by the resistance stealth jet and swam her way to the underwater base of the Gov. Facility, entering through the disposal Shute. She wore a jet black covert suit, soundless shoes and had state of the art spy equipment. It was meant to be an easy, yan et extremely dangerous job. Get in and get out before anyone could notice that she was even there. She needed to implant a virus at the heart of the processing unit of the A.I that controls the facility. This will give Bishop’s team enough time to get in and sabotage their plan for the prison explosion. An earpiece in the left and a tiny microphone on her uniform made communicating back and forth comfortable. The plan was going smoothly… until…

The attacker lunged at Alaya from behind with a knife. The reflecting surface of the metallic room saved her skin just in time. She dodged to the side and delivered a sharp kick to his knee. He grunted in pain but didn’t falter one bit. His expression changed from loathing to amusement and at that second, Alaya knew that she was in grave danger.

“A meta-human?” she cried out.

The control room on Bishop’s end went in a panic. “Alaya, get the hell out of there!” Her trainer yelled.

The voice was patchy; static was all that she could hear.

“No,” ordered Mr. Bishop, “Implant that virus before it’s too late.”

The young man turned to Mr. Bishop in mild disinclination and shock, “She’s going to get herself killed, sir!” he pressed, “She must retreat.”

But Mr. Bishop remained unmoved, “No, she must finish the job.”

Her attacker punches his way around the room trying to hit her. She narrowly escapes his every hit. She searched for the exit door. It was to her right if she’s lucky she could make a daring escape. But she still hadn’t implanted the virus and she made a promise to save her best friend no matter what. To the bitter end, she must see this through. So instead, she found the light switch and broke it. It was now pitch dark and her assailant was out of his element. This gave her enough time to reach for her gun and night goggles. She slips them on and has a clear shot. She aims the gun but pauses; she decides to head for the Processing unit instead. She craftily makes her way over to the mother box and opens it.

“Did it!” She exhales to herself.

“Got you, bitch!” A menacing voice rose up behind her and grabbed her from behind. They began to toss and turn over the large computer parts creating a huge ruckus. Alaya flipped and maneuvers her way over his large arms and then over his shoulder to come to his back and kick him over some fallen appliance. He stumbled to the floor, and she pulled her rifle forth and aimed it at his chest.

“I don’t want to hurt you!” She cried, shifting the gun across his chest to reveal his crayon drawn name tag. ‘Guard Smith – Best Dad Ever.’

“Bishop…” She screeched in pain with escaping tears, soaking her black cotton mask. “I can’t do this.”

The momentary lapse in judgment gave her opponent a window of opportunity to floor her. She fell heavily on her side, and the riffle fled her hands. The guard rose up from the floor and quickly mounted her, grabbing a hold of her windpipe and attempting to crush it within his bare hands. She hoisted her knees and started jabbing them to his side, a futile attempt to inflict enough pain to loosen his grip. She clung to his hands wrapped dangerously around her neck and embedded her fingers beneath his flesh. Fear struck her when he still would not budge. At last, she gave in and slowly dropped both hands to her side. That’s when she realized it; realized what she had done.

((“I get it.” She said to Mr. Bishop just before she departed for the mission a few hours ago.

“I get why you chose me.”

He looks at her in silent validation.

She drops her head and clenches her fist fighting back the tears. “Will you tell him, please?” She begs, “Tell him, how much I loved him, even more so than a friend.”

He nods knowingly, “I will.”))