The next day was what Q3 called "induction," but it felt more like an impromptu TED talk on secret organizations. He explained the hierarchy of the agents, splitting them into five categories—A, B, C, D, with A and B being the elites, while C and D were essentially the "expendables," or as Q3 put it, "the ones who get sent in first when things are about to go boom." Then there was the mysterious S-Class, a category so secretive that even their agents didn't seem to know much about each other.
"The S-Class," Q3 said, "are basically ghosts. They operate at a level where their identities are completely hidden. You don't talk to them, you don't know them, and if you ever meet one, you probably don't live to tell the tale. Or you've just joined the highest elite."
"Great," she muttered sarcastically. "So basically, I'm either meeting someone who's going to kill me or turn me into the ultimate secret agent. No pressure."
Q3 chuckled, continuing to explain the lower classes. "C and D agents do grunt work—bodyguard jobs, small-time missions, that sort of thing. B-Class agents are somewhere in between. Depending on their abilities, they could either be stationed at local bases or at HQ. A-Class? They're your elite. They handle the big operations—rescues, taking down pirate strongholds, overthrowing governments—whatever pays the most."
"So, you guys do everything, from 'heroic rescues' to being the actual pirates, depending on who's paying?"
Q3 gave a sly grin. "We're not picky."
She raised an eyebrow. "And you're B-Class, right? So you're in the middle?"
"Yep. I'm stationed at a local base, doing mostly fieldwork. The HQ, though? That's where all the top-tier agents live—the A-Class and, of course, the S-Class. It's also where you'll be going."
"Of course," she muttered. "So... what class am I?"
"That's what your test will determine," Q3 said. "But considering your 'abilities,' I wouldn't be surprised if you're headed for A-Class at least." He shot her a sideways glance, still grinning like he knew something she didn't.
The entire conversation took place in the car as they drove through forests and mountains, the scenery shifting from dense greenery to wide, open landscapes. It was almost peaceful—if you ignored the fact that she was on her way to becoming a possibly superhuman mercenary for hire.
After what felt like hours, the forest gave way to a stunning view of the ocean. The air shifted, cooler and fresher, as the car pulled into a small, isolated port. She noticed how quiet Q3 had gotten after finishing his info-dump, the ride now accompanied only by the sound of waves lapping against the shore.
At the port, they boarded a boat. Q3 remained silent, and she didn't feel like pushing him for more information. Her head was already spinning with what she'd learned. Instead, she just stared out at the ocean, watching as the mainland faded into the distance. They sailed for what seemed like an eternity, her only companions the waves and the occasional squawk of a seagull.
Finally, after about three hours, an island appeared on the horizon. As they got closer, her eyes widened. It wasn't just any island—it looked like something out of a Bond movie. Huge buildings rose from the ground like futuristic monoliths, their sleek designs a sharp contrast to the natural beauty surrounding them. The architecture was modern, with glass facades reflecting the shimmering sea. A large runway stretched across the middle of the island, complete with several sleek jets parked neatly in a row, ready for action.
As they approached the island, she couldn't help but ask, "Is this HQ?"
Q3 shook his head, smirking. "Nope. This is just the way to get there. But I won't be your guide any further."
Just as he said that, her least favorite trench-coat-wearing man appeared. Mr. B arrived as casually as ever, barely acknowledging her with a nod. Without much of a word, they were both escorted to a pair of small planes.
"Wait, are we flying those?" she asked, wide-eyed.
Q3 smirked. "No, no. You're flying in them. Don't worry, they know what they're doing. Probably."
She wasn't exactly reassured, but there was no backing out now. The planes were tiny, just big enough to fit a couple of people, and the idea of flying in one didn't sit well with her. The roar of the engines sent a shiver up her spine as they took off, the island below shrinking rapidly. The view was stunning, sure, but she barely had time to appreciate it as the plane jerked and swerved through the sky.
Just when she thought things couldn't get worse, the plane started descending—straight towards nothing. It looked like they were going to crash into the ocean, and her heart shot into her throat. But then, suddenly, the descent steadied, and they were heading towards... something.
She couldn't see it at first—nothing visible appeared on the horizon—but the planes glided smoothly toward a set of massive gates that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. They were so well-camouflaged against the sea that from a distance, it seemed like they were flying into open air. As the gates slid open, her jaw dropped.
Inside, beyond the hidden entrance, was a ship. But not just any ship—it was gigantic, like a floating city. The size was almost impossible to grasp, easily the size of a small town, but with the sleekness of a high-tech fortress. It had everything—massive landing strips, towering structures, and countless levels that disappeared into the ship's depths.
Her mind struggled to take it all in. "This thing is... massive," she muttered, half to herself.
"Over-exaggerating, but not quite," he said with a knowing smile. "It's your new home, at least for a while."
She stared, wide-eyed, as they flew closer, the sheer scale of the ship making her feel smaller by the second. Whatever she had signed up for, she was starting to realize it was bigger—and more dangerous—than she had ever imagined.
"Of course," she muttered under her breath. "The evil lair."
She half-expected a volcano to erupt in the distance, just to complete the cliché.