THE BOSS AGENT

1. OH? SO MY FACE IS PRETTY NOW?

Agent Eighteen's POV:

Time flies when it's importance is left unnoticed.

My eyes flare up and I feel alive again not bothering to check how long have I been sparing. Agent Twenty-two and I have been in the training room for God knows how long. I remember we came here to train the trainees at eight and now it's past midnight. All of them left except for us since we decided to stay back.

I am not complaining though. Training with someone equal to your capabilities and potential is always fun. Though I am the top-ranked agent in the agency, it is still fun to compete with Agent Twenty-two.

Fun when you're certain of winning.

We keep dancing around and at one point we pause to catch our breath. My hands are upfront with a clenched fist as I heave for breath. Both of our eyes scrutinize for any flaw though we know what will be the result. We are too good at hiding our flaws.

"You tired?" he asks. This is kind of a trick he usually uses. Brings up conversations during fights so he could catch me off guard.

"Nope. Of everyone in this world, you must know that I don't get tired this fast," I reply. He smiles before relaxing his stance.

"I know. It's been like what, two hours of sword fighting, two hours of target practice and three hours of combat? I thought we could take a break."

I relax when he crosses his arms as he shifts his weight from one leg to another. I bring up my arm and wipe off the sweat with my sleeves.

"Oh, you wanna take a break or are you worried that I will bruise that pretty face of yours?" I taunt him.

He smirks.

Oh no. He is gonna have a better comeback.

"Oh, so my face is pretty now?"

I roll my eyes. "So typical of you mister. Didn't you hear about being bruised badly?"

"It would be an honour, captain," he says before bowing to me, dramatically.

Bad for him. As soon as he gets up, a swift punch is thrown in his way. His face snaps to the other side with the impact. I mean, it isn't my fault. I knew his plan. He tends to start a talk before suddenly attacking me. So, I thought why not give him the taste of his own medicine.

In addition to it, I like to bruise men's ego.

He looked shocked for a second before recomposing himself with a defensive stance.

The next second, the little conversation was out of the window as we continued sparing with each other. He raises his arm to throw a punch which I easily block and hold my ground. Without giving a second thought, he swipes his leg. I jump just in time before delivering a roundhouse kick.

He stumbles back. Realising that all of his plan of attack is going down the drain, he gets frustrated and lungs towards me. Before I could stop he grabs my arm and twist it behind my back.

I try to free my arm but his hold is strong. I look up to see his eyes were already trained on me. I stare into his dark blue eyes. Just as I keep looking at him, I realise that there is a bit of grey in his blue eyes. He tilts his head to the left as his brown hair falls on his forehead.

We both have our advantages and disadvantages. He was a few inches taller with lean fame and broad shoulders which leads him to win against the opponent if he uses the attack mechanism. But I, on the other hand, with average height and petite figure helped me with a defence mechanism as I could easily escape.

As we keep staring at each other, unaware of the track of time, he slowly inches closer to me. I snap out of my little trance and smile inwardly before punching him right in his face again. He lets go of me immediately.

"Oof! You fight dirty," he grunts, backing away while rubbing his nose. I shrug in return.

"What can I say? You taught me well."

He lets out a huff before throwing his hands up in the air. I inwardly grin, knowing very well what he is about to say.

"Alright fine. You win. As always," he says. He is not angry or upset about it. He sounds like he knew I always turn out to be the winner. And as far as I know, Agent Twenty-two isn't a sore loser.

"You did well. But I expected better from you," I say as we walk towards the small table. I grab hold of the bottle before gulping down without a break.

"Slow down there. I don't want you to die on me here and then for me to be answerable to the chief," he says as he wipes the sweat off his face with a towel.

I scowl at him before turning towards the clock. It's a quarter past three already. I think the old saying is, in fact, true. Time does fly.

When I turn around, I notice Agent Twenty-two give me a sceptical look. I raise my eyebrow.

"What? Don't tell me there is something on my face," I say, already reaching to touch my cheek.

He chuckles. "Yeah. You looked like a ferocious animal on a hunt for many years during the fight."

"Whatever," I say and quickly move towards the door so I don't get bombarded with his questions. I have already told him many of my secrets. Or maybe he got to know on his own because of my lethargy. I hate the thought of people knowing me more than what I want them to know. But for Agent Twenty-two, he knows quite alot than necessary.

Just as I reach the door handle, Agent Twenty-two stops me by grabbing hold of my arm. I pause before turning my head to look at my arm where his fingers are wrapped around before casting a look at him.

"What's wrong?" he asked as a perturbed expression coloured his face. I sometimes wonder if he is a mind reader or something. Or am I that bad of an actor?

"Nothing," I say monotonously, looking away from his eyes. He gives me a bored look.

"The truth now."

I look back up to see him give me a genuinely worried look. But that's where the problem lies. No matter what he does, my problems aren't gonna stop anytime soon.

But that doesn't stop him. Despite me pushing him away, he still makes sure to have my back.

I look down at the floor before letting out a sigh with my eyes closed. The least I could do is tell him the truth. I look back up after a few seconds and lock my eyes with him. He looks expectantly, waiting for me to say something.

"It's him."