I enjoy the quiet inside the jet, and the only sound you hear is the wind friction against the aircraft. It's also a place to finish up a couple of necessities for the mission, mostly paperwork. Before anything else though, I'd like to get out of these panties. Like routine, our spare clothing is hanging neatly in the bathroom, and I always get to change before Clyde. Common courtesy really. He knows my wardrobe gets uncomfortable over time.
I leave my stilettos next to my seat and make my way to change. They always wrap our clothes in plastic and hang mine on the side of the wall. Clyde's is on the opposite wall.
Casual wear, my favorite. I sit on the toilet and peel off my black stockings soaked with sweat. I change out and look at Clyde's clothes. A fitted workout shirt and cargo pants, it's always the same with him.
I exit the bathroom and he enters next. The seat he was sitting at has a couple of papers on the pull-out table. He must be writing his mission summary already, guess I should do the same. I set up my own workspace and try to piece together everything that happened on a single sheet of paper. Clyde comes back rather quickly and finishes his work without hesitation. Hours of idleness pass by until we finally reach our destination.
*** *** ***
Hartford, Connecticut
Hartford, Connecticut. Not only the base of our operations, but it's also my hometown. I enjoy it the most when winter is here. It's the snow, it gets about 40 centimeters deep!
The jet lands smoothly on the private runway; it always does when Barry is in the cockpit. The guy's an ace pilot if there ever was one. Ever since my first mission out of state, he'd always been the one flying Clyde and me everywhere. He doesn't talk much, which is one of the things I like about him.
I get up from my seat and stretch a little, "We're here." Clyde's still asleep. A motivational kick to his knee was all it took for an alarm clock. "Come on, H.Q's expecting us."
He rubs his knee and lets out a yawn. "All right."
*** *** ***
Ispio Headquarters
The grand building standing tall and inconspicuous before us is the headquarters of Ispio. Cleverly disguised as a post office, it keeps any enemy recon units uninterested, or at least the ones that don't know any better.
Adams' Post Services was written on the property sign, and the building actually did provide postal services; though the boss had to spend extra money on that side business. Clyde and I enter through the front door, carrying our paperwork rather confidently.
Working at the front desk was our dear Amy Quine. She's an anthropomorphic cat, black and white fur, a very peppy attitude, and in my opinion a real beauty too. She works as the receptionist for citizens, and as security for Ispio employees.
I've always urged Clyde to ask her out, but he always says, "I'm not interested in dating". Clyde's a good actor on missions, but he's a real stoic at heart.
Amy notices us and flings her arm in a fury of overexcited waves. "Hey! How's it going!?" Her smile is contagious.
I flash my pearly whites too. "Just fine! Secret door please."
"You got it!"
She opens up one of the drawers from her desk and reveals a DNA scanner. She places her hand on it, and moments later we hear the click of a door unlocking. A piece of wall has popped out of its place, and I push it inward and step in. Clyde follows closely.
On the other side, there is only one elevator with only one direction. Down. There is no button to call the elevator, only a bowl that requires saliva from any Ispio employee.
"Can you get that, Clyde?"
"You're closer."
"I hate spitting, it's a nasty habit!"
"Quit being a baby."
I let out a frustrated groan, and bend my head over the bowl. My spit comes out stringy, and I manage to gross myself out by watching it drip.
"Ew! Ew! Ew!"
I stand up straight and wipe my mouth with Clyde's shirt, who then proceeds to smack me on the back of my head. Thankfully not hard, his build makes him look like he could bend iron in his sleep.
The ding of a confirmed DNA test rings and the doors slide open. Clyde takes his long strides past me and enters first. His shoulder hits mine, causing me to stumble a little. He's not a jerk, but the way he plays isn't always agreeable with me.
The doors close behind us, and we wait to hit the bottom floor. Clyde leans on the rails behind us, and I just stand to the side a bit.
"Why do you always make me spit?" I ask.
"Why does it always bug you so much?"
"Because it's gross! And if you were a good friend, you'd do it for me!"
"Oh, guess I'm not a good friend."
"Oooh, you get under my skin so easily!"
He gives a small laugh. Luckily the ride doesn't take long, and we hit our destination. Ispio Headquarters.
It really just looks like any other office building, only a severe lack of windows. Cubicles everywhere, filing cabinets, and computers occupied all of them, along with their workers. The walls were painted a boring white, and the floor was covered with dark blue carpeting. If there was one word to describe it all, it would be "Average".
Clyde's long legs carry him faster than mine, so he leads us to our boss' office. We get a couple of greetings from the pencil pushers, and I happily return them. They usually know how Clyde is, so there's no offense when he walks by without a word.
The door on the far side of the wall with the label that said, "Commander In Chief: Adams" was where our next step in wrapping up the mission takes place. Clyde knocks three times before opening the door and enters with me trying to catch up. It's routine to place our paperwork on the desk, and then take a seat on the two chairs provided. By this time, our boss has already researched the local public news from our mission location in the past few hours.
Carlotta Adams, our fierce Commander that carries an intimidating aura with her. She always wears her dark brown hair in a ponytail, which is a good look with her monotonous gray suit and skirt. Most people fear her official vibe, but we've been childhood friends since our early school days. In fact, it's how I got this job in the first place. Of course, being friends with an employee doesn't stop her from unleashing her full force of fury on me when she needs to.
"Hey there, beautiful," I said. "How's your day been? Good, I hope!"
She ignores me and begins her statements. "The Foxtrot Mansion was reported to have been setting off fireworks."
"That would have been the gunshots," Clyde says, not helping our side at all.
"I figured. Boys, this was supposed to be an easy one, meaning no reports of activity-"
"Wait for-" I interrupt.
"At all," she finished. She grabbed our mission summaries from her desk and began skimming through them.
"If I may," I began again, "the evidence we found is certainly enough to alert the local authorities for probable cause."
"An anonymous tip with alarming pictures attached," Clyde added.
Adams stayed silent, her eyes moving back and forth, reading intensely. "I trust your photographic evidence is digitally stored safely on the hard drive?"
"Yes ma'am," I said.
"Very well." She always says that when she's about to wrap up the conversation. "I'll call you two when I need you again. Until then, you're both off duty." And with that said, we were dismissed.
*** *** ***
I waved goodbye to our dear Amy Quine as we walked out of the front exit, and as always, she returned it with twice as much enthusiasm as mine. The air was cool and windy, a climate that I thoroughly enjoy. Off-duty time is time that I never really know what to do with myself, so I usually rely on Clyde to entertain me.
"Do you think the evidence is really enough?" I ask.
"We'll see in time. We just need to trust Adams to sell the story well."
"Ah...so you got any plans for today?"
"Well, I-"
"Can I tag along!?" My sudden outburst made Clyde jump a bit.
"Not a chance squirt, I get enough of you during the workday."
"Oh c'mon, friends don't say that to friends!"
He gave a sigh. "How about lunch?"
My tail wagged furiously with happiness. "Sure buddy! My house or yours?"
"I'll let you do the cooking. Just promise me there will be meat, okay?"
"My house it is!"
*** *** ***
Troy's House
While Clyde lives in an apartment, I live in an actual house. Of course, that means I need to take care of my lawn, and I'm on my own when something breaks around here, but I think it's all worth it in the end. It's not too terribly far from HQ, so walking wasn't going to kill us.
The neighbor's dog was tearing up my newspaper again when we got there. Nothing has changed about that, no matter how much I complain to them about it.
"Oi! Get out of here, mutt!" I scream while kicking in its direction. Of course, I never mean to hit it on purpose, so the kicking is just for intimidation. The dog gave a small bark and scurried back to its side of the property.
"That's offensive," Clyde says with a smirk. "Is this how you treat my kind when I'm not watching?"
I laugh sarcastically. "Haha! I never see you doing things like this, otherwise, you'd get the same treatment."
"Those are more intimate moments for me," he says. His tail begins wagging as he replayed old memories in his mind.
I approach my front door to unlock it, but it wasn't locked in the first place. I must have forgotten; that the last mission was deployed at the last minute, and I rushed my preparation accordingly. Luckily this is considered a good neighborhood, so my chances of finding a burglarized habitat were small if anything.
I opened the door, letting the sunlight fill the dark living room. Everything seemed to be undisturbed by the look of it.
"Come on in," I say, and stood at the side of the door to let Clyde walk through. His brisk pace gradually slowed down until he stopped in the center of the room.
He sniffs the air around him. "What's that smell?"
"Please don't insult my home," I said, "I haven't even been here in-"
"No," he raises his hand to stop me. "It smells like..." He stopped in mid-sentence, leaving me in suspense. Not really though.
"Uh-huh. I can't smell anything."
"Trust me, there's a lingering scent here, and it's...familiar."
I gave up on the conversation and walked into my kitchen. My house on its own is decent sized, and I don't even have an upstairs level. My kitchen was by far the most spacious room though, which made it my favorite. I pondered on what I would make for lunch, but something ceased my pondering. My fridge was slightly open, letting out its cool air and light through the small crack. I grunted. How is everything so disorganized?
I shoved my hands in my pockets and walk towards the fridge. I need to find out what ingredients I have anyway. Pulling open the door a bit more, the light reflected off a shiny surface and into my eye. I don't remember putting tinfoil leftovers in here. Once I got the whole thing in view, it didn't look like leftovers. It was a round, metal ball of some sort. It had wires running through its back and into some sort of battery pack.
"What's this?" It gave a clicking sound that was familiar to me. It was the signature ding of an Ispio proximity mine. My heart skipped a beat, and I closed the door shut, but it was too late. The blast went off and ripped the fridge door off its hinges, blowing it -and me - against the wall.
My body shattered the cabinets that held all my good dishes, and the door used me to soften its blow! I thought I heard Clyde say something, but I couldn't be sure with the ringing in my ears. Newly deaf and injured, I laid there with the door on me, watching Clyde run in with his gun drawn.
His mouth was moving, and I could tell by his facial expressions that he was shouting. Alas, I caught no sound of his words. He looked down on the floor at the pile of wood and shattered plates and kicked something towards me. I clenched the metallic object in my free hand, and Clyde threw the door off of me and helped me up.
I look at the gun I now held. It was mine, it must have gotten unbuckled from the blast. My balance was woozy at best, and I could feel the blood trickling down my neck. My head has a deep cut, I'm sure of it.
"Can you walk!?" Clyde screamed, still only barely audible. I only nodded my head slightly, hoping that it would suffice as an answer. "The smell was gunpowder!" he said.
He grabbed my unarmed hand, and I felt a surge of pain shoot up all the way to my shoulder. My left arm was broken!
I chose not to say anything, it would be faster like that. We reach the doorway that led to the living room, but our progress was halted by a masked intruder wielding a rifle.
Even though he was already aiming down his sights, Clyde managed to shoot first, dropping the assaulter in three shots. We progressed into the living room, and into a hail of automatic fire that came from my bathroom.
Clyde throws me across the floor and behind my couch, which began to get covered in bullet holes, then he squats down behind my favorite recliner, which received the same fate as my couch. The shooter didn't let up on Clyde, so I popped out from my place to help him out. I fired a couple of bullets, only grazing an arm with one of them. It was enough for him to get interrupted, and for Clyde to finish him off.
The room fell silent, but we were in no position to take a chance. I bolted for the door, and Clyde was already holding it open for me. I whiz past him, and he follows closely, leaving my door open. We run down the street and take cover in a nearby alleyway.
"Ack! Oh man, this hurts!" I shout while slowly crouching down to sit. I notice that I left a trail of blood while rushing over here. I hope an enemy wasn't following it.
"Hold still, let me examine you!" Clyde said, pulling out a needle from his side pocket. He took off the safety plastic from the tip and stuck it in my broken arm. Soon enough, the morphine would stop the pain, or at least make it a little more bearable. "Your arm is disfigured, possibly broken. You've lost a lot of blood from a big gash in your head."
"Tell me Clyde... am I still pretty?" I asked in my woman's voice, trying hard to make a legitimate smile.
"Stop joking around, we need a real medic!" He hoists me up, and we began walking back to HQ. Along the walk, the morphine, combined with the loss of a lot of blood, brought my world to a dark snooze.