I've heard "normal" people usually have a Plan B whenever shit hits the fan. However, when you are one of the underworld's most feared fighters, plans C-Z crop up faster than weeds. Bonnie's apartment was already in the red, and she knew how to keep her and others' mouths shut, so I doubt any police would be tracking me down.
I don't precisely know proud I should be of that, but I still decided I was going to "check" in regularly. It's the least I can do, even if it feels like the least is all I can do. The only bad thing about my 4-day apartment hunt was that I had to deal with Brutus' breaking into the newer furniture and mauling the stuffing-filled couch. Oh, and of course, reporting my "incident" towards Daniels.
Per our arrangement, I report directly to Daniels on any matters. He usually returns the favors by giving me death-defying missions, but it doesn't make asking for favors any less awkward. If you had the President's number on speed dial, would you hound him to help you pick up groceries?
Given current events, I hoped I would fly under the radar nap of the earth style till he escaped. Or at least till I get my shit together, but who are we kidding? I don't know if that's even possible anymore. I mean, what the fuck was that?
Controlling my emotions has never been a talent of mine. My entire odyssey was proof of that. But acting out without even knowing is another matter altogether. One where I'm sure my nonexistent shrink would have a field day analyzing for their next book.
Unfortunately, I only had myself, a Black Laborder in timeout, and a chewed-out beanie bag I'm eating chips on. Nevertheless, each cursed crunch did wonders to interrupt the swirling doubts and my mask's decadent glare.
Retreating from both was futile, though. Because with one specific chime of my phone, I realize even thinking the Devil's name (or Dragoon in this case) will have him appear. I then sighed out whatever warring resignation and anticipation I had left before I saw whatever the world had out for me.
Every time I've entered Titan, it's been like going to a massive 24/7 rave. Or, as I like to call it, an assault on the senses. Complete with packed crowds, heated conversations, and blaring headlines that would have even TMZ spinning.
What I never expected, though, was for Titan's silence to be even more deafening. When I venture through the halls, I often can't help but feel dozens of darting eyes duck at my presence now though I couldn't do anything more than a nanosecond's long glance.
Then again, there's no time for gossip when you're in wartime. So it's been two weeks since James and I hunted down Ben Stan, the two-bit gun smuggler. We didn't know that this simple job would lead us to discover an operation as wide-spanning as Titan. Coupled with an ambition that far exceeds it.
If even half of Stan's ramblings are true, this "Pantheon" seeks to dominate this world from the shadows. And if the half dozen bruises from that weren't open to sharing or compromise. Meaning the both of us were now deadlocked in a battle most souls will never know. A bitter fight between two empires cloaked in darkness to decide this world's future: A Hidden War.
Me personally? I see it as business as usual. Making me the sole outlier as I heard gunshots from Mr. Daniel's office. Or punches from James. It can be hard to tell the difference. My theories proved wrong, though, as I saw Daniel's in a white T swinging at a punching bag.
From the flurry of punches, you would never imagine he was in his early 60s as he hammered away at the sandbag with the fury of a Gatling gun. He might as well have been fighting an actual person, though, as he kept bobbing and weaving with eyes as fiery as fists.
It was only when a backspin kick finally lifted the bag off its iron hinge that he finally stopped. Alongside an earthshaking thud, Daniels finally took notice of me. Instantly his fearsome scowl softened to his usual demeanor as he wiped the sweat off his brow with hands I could tell were on the verge of breaking.
"Apologies Sarah, I didn't see you there."
"No issues, sir. I had just arrived."
"Good, then that means we didn't waste any time," he says as he throws on his trademarked military jacket. "My reason for calling you here today comes in twofold."
Oh great. Here it comes.
"Four days ago, you called me saying you were moving out of your apartment. That same evening a 911 call was made about a mysterious intruder assaulting the landlady."
Daniels' clinical tone grew increasingly assertive as he danced like a furnace's flames.
"Now I understand the current situation has been stressful for us all. But it's also through these exact circumstances and our arrangement that I ask you, Sarah if you are mission-ready."
I almost said "yes" instinctively before I saw Daniel's face. Yet, somehow, he simultaneously conveyed compassion, frustration, and desperation so powerful I had to double-take. This wasn't the first time I was offered a way out, and who knows if it'll be the last.
I've seen more action than some soldiers ever get to and see more of the world than I've ever cared to wish. Yet, there wasn't a creaking bone, scarred patch of skin, and sewed-together muscle that wasn't screaming for rest or hollering out for this all to end. My soul speaks a different tune, though. It says I haven't been enough.
No matter how hard I sweat or bleed, it will never make up for my stained ledger. It tells me to keep going even if there's no end in sight, even if there's no happy ending, and if I don't want to. So I gulped back my unfaithful resignation and said.
"I'm mission ready, sir. I promise it won't happen again."
Daniels studied the weight of my words carefully before eventually leaving satisfied.
"Then I'll be happy to see your actions meet along with your words. I've never been one to micromanage Sarah, not when we operate at the level we do, especially when this whole mess has Titan's other chancellors breathing down my neck. Facilitating faith and freedom of my agent's talent is the only way we will win this Hidden War."
Daniels then started to pull out his signature pen and started pulling our holograms.
"And I already know you're going to be a key player in this Hidden War."
The sudden shift towards me was surprising.
"How so?"
Daniels then shifted to a holographic version of Russia.
"Ever Stan's been under our protection, James has been able to poke around him for information as we cross-reference with strange crime trends. Given Arachne's command over the Maritellos in Cuba, we have reason to believe that the Pantheon is passing over that same vested interest in British firms across the UK. Using your reputation and skills, I hope you can use the agents there to burn them out like cancer they are,"
I then realized something which surprisingly took the wind out of my sails.
"James won't be joining me?"
Daniels then perked up in surprise.
"Oh right, you don't know."
Panic suddenly sprouted from my heart as it swan-dived toward the worst scenario.
"Is he okay? He hasn't texted me in the past three days and-
My boss then gave an unexpected coy smile before addressing me with a more fatherly turn.
"It's okay, Paladin; James is still recovering from the last mission; he emailed me today saying his injuries are making his regional ultimate frisbee competition extra spicy. So instead, Wiz will be offering you both tech and "pet" support, as she puts it. As for your partner in the field, you'll be honored to work with the leader of our Sleepers division: Persona, the agent of a thousand faces. I'm sure you two will get along with each other."
On that note, I desired to answer his smile with an uneasy mirror.
"I guess we'll have to see," I said while departing.
Traveling toward my next mission typically feels like a proverbial hop, skip, and jump away. It could be when you're in a hypersonic jet manned by an expert pilot. Still, without James's constant and insistent chatter, I felt like I was flying through molasses rather than sound barriers. But, right now, he'd be saying something stupid.
"You know the United Kingdom may take the carrot cake for the funniest sounding food items. Bangers and mash, snickerdoodles, crumpets, and freaking French Fries are all super fun to say! Though I guess French fried don't count but still I know we had to separate from them, tea parties and a that but America could've been a little more creative. Like what even is a burger. What's your take, Sarah?"
Any other day I would've found his rouge tangents annoying while he dragged me and the conversation on and on till we went to work. But now that he's gone, I see how important his banter is. When I'm through this, I guess I'll have to humor him more. If I get through this, I mean. Once I descended at the airport, I quickly got my gear and headed towards the baggage claim.
Call it professionalism or simple kindness, this "Persona" insisted on meeting me in person around that area. The only problem is they should have mentioned exactly what they looked like. Not that it mattered; even when hiding in plain sight, I tend to know who's who. So I silently stood back and scanned the dozens of people within the room on full guard and waited for our path to cross.
Little did I know they were already waiting for me. For a brief second, I got thrown towards my enemy's perspective as I felt a phantom hand ominously brush past me, with a disarming voice to match.
"Paladin?"
Again my body moved independently, smacking the hand away while facing my potential foe. They just so happened to be a petite, caucasian androgynous civilian with heterochromatic eyes (green and blue, respectively) dressed in a gray crop top and open-front black suit blazer. Their pale blonde hair was styled in a pixie cut with a taper fade, paired with their mischievous smile, which felt alarmingly alluring.
"Persona, I presume?"
"Correct. Sorry to scare you. Daniels said you meant business, but I didn't think he was this serious. Care for a redo?" they said as they reached out their hand.
A small blush of embarrassment flashed out of me before I realigned and shook their hand.
"I wasn't scared. Apologies either way."
"No problem and you are?"
That's what I'm honestly trying to figure out myself.
"Sarah. Where are the others?
Persona's smile then started growing wider, too, as they tauntingly mused.
"Oh, there's no need for that; they're already here."
At first, I didn't know what she meant. Until I started to see, Persona's eyes darted around like pinballs. Once I followed their path, I started seeing several civilians turn their heads back and give off a subtle nod. Utter shock colored my face as Persona reveled in it. Like this performance, they had waited months to execute.
"Now that introductions are out of the way. Let's begin," as we entered the dizzying streets of London.