THE BOSS AGENT

2. BOSS'S CALL.

Agent Eighteen's POV:

"It's him," I reply with a huff as I run my hand through my brown straight hair.

"So you left the practice session last week to meet him," he pieces it together. I nod my head as I lean against the door. My whole body feels sore after practising for hours but I would never really proclaim so.

"What did he say?"

"Well, let's just say we ended up disagreeing," I say. Yesterday's uneventful episode is still in my head bothering me. It keeps running through my head making it difficult for me to concentrate on anything else. And fighting was my only solace.

"If you don't mind me asking, what terms did you both disagree on?" Twenty-two asks, his eyes still trained on me. He looks tired, probably because he is practising here rather than sleeping in his bed.

"He won't let me go solo. And he wants us, as in, the whole team to leave on the mission. He also said we should leave within a week or so" I grumble, frustration coating my voice.

"I don't think that's a bad idea," he mumbles slowly, but I catch on before glaring at him. He smiles innocently. "I mean, it's dangerous and he has a valid point."

"You don't understand. It's just," O sigh. "It's complicated," I say as I run my hand through my hair again. Ever since I talked to him, I have been more than stressed. I have been spending my nights in the training room rather than my bed. Every time I try to sleep, his voice keeps resonating in my head.

"No," I oppose with a tone that says that this is my final decision. No way I am leaving to that mission with my team. I planned on completing it by myself. But he thinks otherwise.

"You should and you will," he adds calmly as he writes something on the paper, avoiding my eyes. Or maybe ignoring my existence. I clench my teeth from saying something that I would regret. His calmness frustrates me more than anything else. He looks so composed as if the world is beneath him. If he thinks I would blindly follow his orders, he is so wrong.

"Which part of no you don't understand?" I ask sarcastically.

After hearing my unpleasant reply, he pauses his writing before placing his pen down. He intertwined his fingers before placing them in front of him. He looks up with a glare. This is a part where any agent would take a step back or two out of fear. But I am not just any agent.

"You have a week. I don't care what you do or what you don't. Get your team ready."

I snap out of my thoughts when Twenty-two places his hand on my shoulder. I glare at his hand which he immediately retreats. He clears his throat before speaking.

"You okay? I was talking to you but you seem to be caught up somewhere," he asks, genuinely concerned. I still don't get how he has time or energy within him to be concerned about others. I barely find time for myself and here he is trying to know me like the back of his hand.

What's his motive?

I nod. He is so good-natured that sometimes I feel he's too righteous to be true. Too good to be true. Or maybe it's just his pity for me?

"I am okay. It's the end of the week and I don't know what he has planned for me," I reply as I stretch my neck to get rid of the rigid muscles.

"Maybe he changed his mind and decided to consider your opinion—" he gets cut off when we hear a knock on the door. I pull away from leaning against the door and open it to see Agent Forty-seven in his usual attire and blank stare. Many agents in our agency tend to get scared of his stare but in reality, he is a softie on the inside and is nothing less than a father figure to me.