How does one go from a depressed and neurotic adolescent to a top ranking FBI agent?
For Agent A, it was as simple as taking candy from a baby. All she needed, however, was a plan and a set of rules. Luckily for her, she was a fast learner.
...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"WHO'S SPEAKING?" A muffled voice asked. I stood in the basement of Uncle Sam's house, the birthplace of my ingenious idea, battling yet another migraine. Rubbing my temples, I looked in to the mirror hanging above the broken sink. A sigh of frustration escaped my lips. I had cut off my mid-length wavy hair into a blunt bob, and dyed it dark brown, but my blonde roots did not disappear. They remained there, colored but visible; valiantly saying look at me. I am your past, your present, and your future. You can hide me from others but you cannot hide from me. I am you and you are me.
"This is Blue Hawk," I said, deepening my voice. "Connect me with the Gray Copper Cobra, pronto."
There was a moment of silence as the man on the other end flipped through a record book and found the proper phone extension. I had to thank Raul—without his intelligence, I would be a worm in a pond, gobbled up in a matter of seconds.
"Understood, Blue Hawk. Please stay on the line while I transfer your call," he said, not bothering to offer up any personal information, maintaining a no-nonsense attitude. "It will only take a few seconds. Have a good day."
"You too—" I said, but he did not bother to stick around for pleasantries.
"Y'ello, this is G.C.C. What can I help you with today?" A familiar voice said.
Pressing the phone closer to my ear with my shoulder, I turned around from the mirror and buttoned up my plaid shirt.
"Raul—It's Annie," I said, without hesitation.
As a former double agent working for both the U.S and the Soviet Union, and later being kicked off for becoming a "liability," Raul, whose real identity was unknown, had accrued a lot of intelligence that, if exposed, could threaten the security of this nation. Fortunately for me and the U.S government, he had no interest in being a whistle blower or a traitor, per se, but his loyalty, and thereby his library of knowledge, could be bought at a steep price.
It had been a profitable investment, but like any business contract, I made sure to keep all my bases safe. To him, I was Annie: a young, passionate woman looking to exact revenge from the leaders of the mafia; and, to me, he was Raul. We both had our secrets, and that's what made our bond stronger.
"Annie! Just the lady I wanted to talk—can you believe I was just thinking 'bout you?" Despite his years and wisdom, he had never quite managed to curb his bouts of energy that were bound to wind him up every now and then.
I laughed in a hand-crafted manner, which I had perfected over the years. It came in handy when I had to deal with men like him, but the giddiness in the laughter picked at my internal scabs. "Oh, Raul! You've got to get over your obsession of me. I'm underage, remember?"
A boisterous laugh pierced my left eardrum, and there was little I could do to erase the image of his beer-gut bouncing as he laughed from my mind. There were just something a fourteen-year-old, no matter how mature, should never see.
