Stuck

Chapter 1: "If I Could Turn Back Time"

Friday, September 11th, 2020

1 week before the disappearance of Sybil Shaw

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"Heaugh!"

Sybil hit the mat—she hit the mat hard—the air rushing from her lungs. She stayed still for a moment, lying prone with her face buried in the rubbery material that covered the training room. Around her, she could hear the other agents sparring; their panting, the hard slap of mitts against sweat-soaked flesh, and the occasional grunt. One noise rose above the others—her partner's silence.

"Shut up, Varen."

"I say nothing."

Sybil groaned into the mat. She could hear the smile in his tone. Varen didn't have the capacity for condescension, she was sure of it, but now—lying prostrated moments after finding herself on the receiving end of Varen's well-aimed jab to the face—Sybil was content to blame her misguided frustrations on her teammate.

Allowing herself only a few more moments of self-pity, Sybil finally rolled over and was greeted by Varen's towering frame.

She scowled. "I hate you."

Varen grinned, extending his hand. Sybil eyed it with reluctance. It was nearing the end of the training session, and she was debating on riding out the clock. Her limbs were jelly, and her head was pounding. She had nothing more to give today, not that she had much to give earlier that day. With a peek at her fellow agents, she could tell that they were equally lagging in their efforts.

"Shaw, Mallick. Is everything okay, here?"

Sybil cocked her head back to see Vili standing behind her. She whipped her head back towards Varen, grasped his hand, and allowed him to haul her to her feet, before they both transitioned into parade rest. The rapid movement sent blood rushing to her head, making her dizzy. Still, Sybil tried to focus on the Swede looming before her. At present—however—there were at least two of him, and they were both swaying from side to side. She squinted one eye, and his face finally came into focus.

Standing at 6'4", with lean yet muscular arms crossed over his broad chest, Vili had an imposing presence. He stared down his slightly crooked nose at them—Sybil, in particular—his piercing blue gaze demanding a response.

"Yes, sir. Peachy keen, jelly bean—I mean, ahem...sir." Sybil flashed a wide smile at him, praying to any and every god in existence that her supervisor wouldn't see just how hungover she was. It had been Vili, after all, who'd warned her not to party too hard the night before, birthday or not.

The silence coming from Vili was deafening as they continued to lock stares. From what she could hear, the other agents were using what they perceived as Vili's inattention to slack off as much as possible.

Idiots. Of course, he's paying attention. All I have to do is keep on smiling before he gets bored and moves on to an easier target. Kage, with any luck.

But Vili didn't move on. Instead, his eyes shifted downwards ever so slightly, focusing on her upper lip.

"Shaw?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Your nose is bleeding."

Cautiously, Sybil brought one arm out from behind its position at the small of her back and up to the place where her nose met her lip. She felt a warm and sticky sensation that could only be blood, which was confirmed when she pulled the hand away, far enough so she could focus on the deep red substance that coated the tips of her fingers.