TEAM DELTA

tres

Three| Team Delta

Olivia Rose
__________________

"WELCOME to the agency, Agent Rose."

My badge shone in the fluorescent lights, making me squint at it for a couple of minutes. Olivia Rose, CIA agent. A class analyst was written in bold letters right underneath my picture.

This is oddly heartwarming. I don't know why, I thought I would totally fail the test, like, I would end up being the dude who writes report on every agent's mission and hands it over to the director and then writes it all over again because the director didn't particularly like it. So yeah, I am very thankful I am not that guy.

Director Owens sits in front of me, his hands clasped together infront of him like we were in some kind of business meeting. His office was making my anxiety sky rocket— mainly because there was not a single colour in the entire room, seriously, everything was white. The only colour was the greens of the little cactus placed near his own holder.

The air conditioning was working on full blast, making me wrap my sweater tighter around myself. "Could we maybe tone down in the AC a little bit?"

The director wordlessly picks up a remote and pressed a button. A moment later, I was no longer freezing like I was on Antartica without any clothes on— though that would be a horrifying sight, now that I think about it.

"Urm." Sam speaks up, raising his hand as if he was in a class. "Is there a reason you called us here, sir?"

There were three other people in the room with me. One was Ivanov, who played a significant part in kidnapping me, yes, I am still salty about that. The second was a beautiful woman sitting in the far corner of the room, her eyes calculating and observing. The third was a tall man— whom I briefly met— standing in the opposite corner, a playful grin on his lips.

I was sweating. Apollo was sitting beside him and he was being his brooding and grumpy self. The silence was too much for me, I just wanted to blurt something out, anything to break the awkward silence lingering in the room. And to make it worse, Director Owens hasn't uttered a word and just stared at each and every one of us with his dark eyes as if he could see our soul. I wouldn't be surprised if he could, honestly.

Silence still lingered after Sam's question. He shot me look, a confused expression present on both of our faces. I tap my converse on the marble floor in boredom, tapping my fingers on the arm rests every time the annoying tick-tock of the clock meets my ears. Gosh, if I could just turn it off—

"As you all know." I flinch at Owens' loud voice, snapping my eyes to him as he finally speaks up. "Each one of you have an analyst." His dark eyes flicker to the woman sitting in the corner. "Katerina." She sits up straighter as he says her name. "You have Samuel— but I am noticing a change in your style of work." He picks up a beige file from his desk, flipping it open. "You failed to catch Fantasma, again."

Katerina didn't say anything, but a simple tap of her heeled boots indicated that she was nervous.

"Was it your analyst, Agent Moorcroft?" Owens pressed, his lips pressed in a thin line. "Or the fact that you yet again got distracted—"

"My husband was going to die." She speaks, her voice low and hard. "You can't just expect me to leave him bleeding on the floor and catch a criminal—"

"It is your duty to attend to the country first, Agent Moorcroft. I suppose you read the contract, that you willingly signed, by the way. I told you this—" The Director points a finger between Ivanov and Katerina. "—is going to hinder your work life. You are lagging, you can't catch a single man, for god sake."