The Junk Drawer

09. Starting Point: Agency Base, California

09. Starting Point: Agency Base, California

CALIFORNIA [PENDING]

1400 HOURS

AGENCY BASE; SECTOR 4.2

➳

"Theoretically speaking," I twirled a lock of blonde hair around a delicate finger, crossing my legs as I leaned forward in my seat. "Say if I got up right now and made a run for it, would I have any chance of survival?"

"Theoretically speaking," he replied without even shooting me a sideways glance. His fingers rhythmically tapped against the icons flashing on the screens, sliding windows and images to and from the desktop onto a small blue flash drive. "Say if I tied you up and gagged you, would I have any chance of you shutting up?"

"In your dreams."

"There's your answer, sweetheart."

I narrowed my eyes at him, and subtly held up my middle finger to his back.

"I could chop that finger clean off before you could even blink. I don't suggest you piss me off," said Ronan, his posture still the same as before. Without even turning around, he had me pretending to strangle the empty space in front of me as I imagined his neck in my fists.

Dragging one final file to the flash drive icon, he took it out of its place and spun around. I quickly stopped my violent fantasies and hid my hands behind my back, blushing slightly. He quirked an eyebrow in my direction, leaning against the edge of the desk. Behind him the computer screen let out a loud, erroneous clash, before fizzling to a dark blue shade. The words 'system deletion' popped onto the screen in bright, white letters.

"I hate to burst your bubble, but your super computer is kind of deleting everything in your system." I arched an eyebrow and pointed behind him.

Ronan glanced behind at the screen, which was now showing a loading bar, signalling how many files were being permanently deleted. "Yeah, looks like it."

"You're insane."

"It's a blessing and a curse." Ronan suddenly threw the flash drive in my direction, to which my slow reflexes had me fumbling to catch it. It fell between my fingers and clattered to the ground, where it lay motionless. I grimaced. Ronan slapped a hand to his forehead. "You're like an infant. You'll need to have basic training before we can move out."

I scoffed, bending down the rest of the way to retrieve the flash drive from the floor. Once secured in my grip, I let out a huff and muttered, "I can hold my own. You saw me back there at the bank."

"What I saw," Ronan corrected, "was a girl who got lucky. At one point though, you almost had me fooled. A roundhouse kick to the head isn't something that any average person would know to do. Did you take up martial arts or anything before you went on the run?"

I shook my head. "My mom only taught me basic self-defense. Nothing like what I did back there."

"What about your dad?"

"What about him?"

"Did he ever teach you anything?"

I mulled the thought in my mind, hugging my arms to my chest. "If he did, I don't remember anything. He left us when I was still young."

"Where's your mom?" Ronan asked, genuine curiosity in his eyes.

"Dead," I replied monotonously, staring at the floor but not seeing anything. I was waiting for it. The pitying look and the words, 'I'm sorry,' but none came from the boy standing beside me. Instead, he nodded and reached out a hand.