Director Flagg twisted the screen around and shoved it in my direction. I glanced down to watch a black and white security video of three sides of an empty room play on the tablet. Today's date was in the bottom right hand corner, and the time was an hour ago. The girl, the pessimistic one with the crazy eyes and the bizarre scars that was locked in our basement prison was huddled in the corner of the cell this time, still unmoving and with her head down. Three of our uniform-clad agents came in next.

In the black and white footage I saw her lift her head up. Her stringy hair was clogged in the open wounds on her face, crusting to her forehead as the blood slowly dried, but she made no attempt to swipe away the strands.

In the video the agents approached her, sliding combat batons out from the straps at their thighs.

She went for their legs first, dodging their rapid swipes while throwing blows of her own to their stomachs and heads with her hands, lashing out almost like a cat, recoiling her fists after each hit. She used her heels, her elbows, her nails, her knees, even her head. She managed to muscle a baton away and use the end of it to knock all three boys out cold with bashes to the head. It was maybe a minute and a half before she had them all on the ground.

Well shit.

Flagg shut the video off. He slid the tablet back towards himself over his wooden desk. "What did you pick up on from watching that?" He asked, like I was a boy again.

Other than the fact that she's a mysterious badass, why did she wait so long for them to come near her? Why were the agents even there in the first place? What the hell did you tell them to do? And also, that incredibly annoying habit you have of restricting these kinds of things for no reason other than to reveal them at whatever time suits your dramatic personality is such bullshit I'm having trouble not scrunching up my nose at the smell of it.

"Not a lot," I summarized.

My Director leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed.

I bit my tongue to try and curb my spew of questions. "Can I ask why, sir?" My hands were clasped obediently behind my back as I stood, but I kept running my fingers over my knuckles. I was 20 years old and yet Director Flagg's long sullen silences and hard black eyes still made calluses appear over the joints in my hands.

"Why do you think she fought back this time and not when we captured her after she destroyed that apartment complex?" He asked.

I swallowed tenderly. "She told me that she deserved to be imprisoned because of what she did," I started to say. But of course he already knew this, and he was just trying to make me feel like a kid and explain it to him again. I had been an agent for eight years now, and I was definitely not a little boy anymore, so right now he was just seriously pissing me off. "I think," I shrugged my shoulders up to my ears, "maybe she blew up the building on purpose. To get attention, therefore get captured, so she'd be away from other people and no longer a threat."

Nothing changed on his face. He didn't believe me. As usual. He didn't understand why anyone would do something like that. Unfortunately, that ignorance for empathy was what made him such a successful Director of a secret government intelligence agency.

For the past few days I'd been reviewing the girl's words in my head. If I was in the same position as her, I might feel the same way. When I was in her prison cell she seemed afraid. I thought it might be of me, but considering she could have killed me if she wanted to, as clearly displayed in the camera footage, maybe she was scared of herself. For some twisted reason.

I tried not to look down at my feet as I contemplated this, instead continuing to run my fingers over all the ruts in my hands behind my back. The Director didn't have any empathy. Technically, as spies, all the agents here weren't supposed to have much either, but here I am, trying to relate to a terrified, depressed teenage girl who hated herself.

I licked my lips. "Are we going to keep her, Director?" I asked.

I could see him run his tongue over his teeth. "Yes."

Behind my back one of my knuckles cracked I was clenching it so tight. "Keep her," I repeated. "In the prison? Or, like," I tucked my chin a little, "as an agent?"

"As an agent."

This time all of my knuckles cracked.

"I believe she would be a valuable addition to our agency," Director Flagg repeated.

I brought my hands around to the front of my body and loosened up. "Oh yeah, sure," I started, "but you think she'd actually agree to work with us? Because in case you haven't noticed, not only does she not have a problem with putting agents into intensive care, she's also at war with herself." I broke my standing position and quickly sat down at the chair opposite him, even though I hadn't gotten conformation. "I don't know why yet, but to the point where she's willing to stay inside that hellish prison we have her in, even though she has the chance to explain what was technically not her fault. I agree that somebody with her skills could be useful, but we barely know anything about her."

"You couldn't find out anything?" He leaned forward. "I sent one of my best agents in there with full confidence that he could do his goddamn job and you can't tell me a thing?"

I repressed a sigh. Flagg knows exactly what transpired between the girl and I yesterday. "She's erratic. She acts with her feelings, she cannot be predicted," I said, spreading my hands flat on the table to emphasize my meaning. He trained me to assess out of logic. Nothing this girl did followed a logical pattern, she acted with her emotions, and I'd never encountered emotions in this line of work before. The only thing I really knew about them was that they were unpredictable, tender and dangerous.

"I want you to recruit her for us, Lawrence," he said. My nails pricked into the cushioning of the arm rests on either side of me. Did he seriously not hear any of what I just said?

Flagg was a controller, for lack of a better word. He got off on demanding perfection from his agents. We always had to wear our uniforms in pristine condition and never swear, like this was a goddamn private school. That didn't stop anyone though, and we smuggled in all kinds of things from the outside world after we got back on missions. Mostly drugs since they were relatively concealable, but usually only in the form of vape pens or raw weed. Flagg knew this and despised it, so if you were high or drunk you better avoid him and his guards and his cameras at all costs.

"Director," I started, trying to be tentative, "she's terrified down there. She doesn't want any contact. She just wants to be left alone." I widened my eyes a little, to get him to really pay attention to me.

He still didn't budge. "This is an all-boys spy agency Lawrence." He paused for an excruciatingly long second. "Perhaps adding a girl to the mix would increase performances."

I was gonna shoot something.

Instead I ran a hand through my hair. "Respectfully, Director," I started to say, even though he was progressively narrowing his eyebrows at me. He wasn't used to this much resistance. I have no idea why, but for some reason I was feeling strangely protective of the girl's situation, something inside me was making me fight to keep her from the Director's plans.

I boldly continued despite the look on his face. "I don't think you understand. She honestly wants to be left alone; she's scared of herself, she's mad and she's conflicted and she's depressed." I took a deep breath and the tension in my shoulders loosened. Slightly. "And everything she's feeling is all targeted at herself. You cannot make an agent out of someone who doesn't even want to be with themselves," I said. "You have to understand that—"

The Director's eyes hardened and he leaned forward, so much so that his breath dusted my face. "I am understanding damn fine. And I will make an agent of this girl. And since you're so attracted to this situation, you're going to help. Interview her, assess her, deduce her. You're good at that. We'll give you a list of questions and you will make her talk." Heat started to pulse in my ears, and my heart hammer hard in my chest. Dammit, how did he do that? "I want her with us Lawrence, no matter what it takes. She's smart. She's resourceful. She thinks differently. Kind of like you actually, and maybe with the right persuasion and correct training we can cement more obedience into her than we have with you." The fear that had numbed in my chest boiled into anger as his colorless eyes peered into what felt like my conscience.

I had no choice but to straighten up, look away, and nod. "Yes sir."

I died a little inside as I said that.

"You start tomorrow," he said, "spend all day with her down in the prison asking questions, taking notes on every single movement she makes, and then report to me at the end of the day. Once she's warmed up, begin to tell her about the agency, but keep it clipped. Draw her in. I'd like to see how curiosity runs with her. You will continue this process until she's on board." I didn't bother asking what would happen if she didn't adopt his principles. Probably something along the lines of murder, as it usually is with Director Flagg.

"And Lawrence," he added. I looked at him reluctantly. "Screw this up, and you're out."

"And what would be so wrong with that?" I asked.

His cold hand hit the right side of my face with such ferocity I coughed once he retracted his arm. I touched where it stung with the tips of my fingers, feeling the buzz of energy fizzling on my face and turning the cheek a crimson color.

"Get out," he commanded.

I stood while resisting the urge to touch my face again. It would only give him satisfaction and further boost that maddening superiority that he was intoxicated with.

The guards shut the door to his office behind me, and I retreated back to the training rooms. Licking my lips I refused to acknowledge the sting on my face, instead forcing the feeling down to my hands, where I hoped it would serve as a good supplier for delivering a clean punch later down the road.

I tried to defend the girl, and this is what I got. Thanks a lot emotions.