The soft hum of the photocopier filled the small utility room, its rhythmic churning almost hypnotic. Carla—or Maya Laurent as she now had to remember to call herself—stacked another set of documents into a neat pile. Her hands moved mechanically, flipping pages, aligning edges, her mind far away from the drudgery of the task.
Three days. Three long days, and this was all she had to show for her infiltration of New Human Corp: a sore back, dry hands from handling too much paper, and a simmering frustration she had to bury behind a polite smile.
She had envisioned her new role as John Wall's executive assistant very differently. Close access to him, participation in high-level meetings, whispers of insider information, maybe even a glimpse of the serum project she had risked everything to uncover.
Instead, she was relegated to menial tasks—fetching coffee, filing papers, and, of course, operating the photocopier.
"Maya! Make sure those reports are on Mr. Wall's desk by 3 PM."
The curt tone of Sophie, the senior assistant, echoed from down the hall.
Carla swallowed the retort bubbling in her throat and responded with a cheerful, "Of course!" She grabbed the freshly printed stack, carefully bound it with a staple, and made her way to John Wall's office.
Except he wasn't there. He never was.
For three days, the elusive CEO had been a ghost, flitting from one offsite meeting to another. Carla hadn't even caught a glimpse of him since her interview.
And yet, his presence loomed large, his name a constant in every whispered conversation or hurried email.
Carla placed the reports neatly on Wall's desk, her movements deliberate. The last thing she needed was to be caught mishandling even the smallest detail.
She had already had to correct a few minor mistakes during her first days—filling out a document incorrectly, misplacing a file in the wrong cabinet—but she had always fixed them before anyone noticed.
She prided herself on her precision. After all, her survival depended on it. A single misstep in this building could unravel her entire operation.
Yet, as the hours ticked by, her frustration grew. Without proximity to Wall, her mission was stagnant. She needed to gather intel, to position herself where the real decisions were made.
Instead, she was invisible—a cog in the well-oiled machine of corporate bureaucracy.
During her breaks, Carla had started to notice the attention of some of her coworkers.
A few of them—a finance officer named Mark, a tech specialist named Elena—were friendly, but others seemed wary. Sophie, for instance, watched her like a hawk, often stepping in to critique even minor actions.
"Your stapling technique is too loose,"
Sophie had remarked once, handing Carla a new stack of documents with a thin smile.
Carla played the part of the eager-to-please newbie perfectly, brushing off the condescension with a practiced smile. But beneath her polite facade, she was calculating.
Sophie might simply be territorial, but Carla couldn't rule out the possibility that she had been planted to keep tabs on her.
The hum of the photocopier was the only sound that filled the otherwise silent office floor.
Carla stood beside the machine, watching the paper slide through its rollers with mechanical precision. It was the end of the day, and most of the office was already empty, save for a few late workers scattered across their desks.
Carla had already become adept at blending in, but today, she couldn't help but feel the weight of the long hours she'd spent in the same role.
Her tasks were menial—filling in for the office assistant, running errands, and attending to whatever odd request came her way. Still, she hadn't faltered, making sure that every task, no matter how trivial, was executed flawlessly. It had been weeks now, and she'd gone unnoticed, just the way she wanted it.
"Hey, Maya."
Carla looked up, her heart skipping a beat. It was Laura, a colleague from the research division, standing by the coffee machine with a half-empty cup in hand.
Laura had been friendly from the beginning, always engaging in small talk during breaks. Today, she wore a slightly puzzled look on her face.
"Hi, Laura." Carla gave a warm smile, doing her best to hide the brief flash of caution that crossed her mind. She had been so focused on her mission, she hadn't had much time for personal relationships. "How's everything?"
"Busy as usual," Laura replied, her tone light, though there was a hint of exhaustion behind her eyes. "I'm surprised you're still at the copier. I thought that was John's personal job, you know, the whole 'make everyone feel useful' thing." She chuckled, rolling her eyes a little.
Carla kept her expression neutral, though she couldn't suppress a small laugh. "I'm just helping out. Someone has to do the grunt work, right?" She tried to keep the conversation casual. "What about you? Any exciting projects?"
Laura's eyes flickered briefly with the weight of unspoken thoughts. "Well, I've been looking over some new biotech experiments we're rolling out next month.
But, between you and me, I think they're rushing a bit. Some of the serum research they're pushing feels a little… off. You don't hear anything about that, do you?"
Carla's pulse quickened, but she masked it instantly. "I haven't heard anything, but it doesn't surprise me. With a company like New Human Corp, there's always something in the works, right?" She gave a shrug, playing the role of the nonchalant assistant.
Laura glanced around, leaning in slightly.
"You know, I've been here for a while, and I've got a feeling they're hiding something big. The higher-ups seem nervous lately—more security, more scrutiny. It's like they know something's about to go down."
Carla's mind raced.
This was the first time someone had directly alluded to the serum project being more than just an experimental venture. The way Laura spoke made it sound as if she suspected something far darker than anyone was letting on.
Carla felt a rush of gratitude for this unexpected insight, but also a flash of concern. She couldn't afford to get too close to anyone, not now.
"Yeah, I've noticed things are a little… tighter around here." Carla paused, her eyes flicking toward the hallway that led to John Wall's office. "But, hey, who knows? Maybe it's just corporate paranoia."
Laura seemed to buy the explanation, though she gave Carla a lingering look as if deciding whether or not to share more.
"Maybe. Anyway, if you ever get curious about the big stuff, feel free to ask. I can't promise anything, but…" She trailed off with a playful shrug.
Carla's heart skipped a beat. Was Laura trying to be friendly, or was she testing her? "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," she replied smoothly, hoping her tone didn't betray the sudden spike of unease.
Laura took a sip of her coffee, still watching Carla with a slightly curious expression. "Well, I should get back to the grind. Don't let John keep you too busy with that copier work." She grinned before turning and walking back toward her desk, leaving Carla standing alone once again.
Carla let out a quiet breath she hadn't realized she was holding. It was a small interaction, but one with layers of meaning.
Laura's words were a rare slip—offering just a crack into the uncertainty brewing beneath the surface of New Human Corp. But at the same time, Carla knew she couldn't trust anyone fully here. The more she learned, the more she realized just how many secrets were buried in plain sight.
She returned to her work, but this time, her mind was working in overdrive. Laura's suspicions about the serum project, John's increasing control over the company, and the growing tension in the office—it all pointed to something bigger. Something dangerous.
It was a reminder: Carla had to stay vigilant. No matter how friendly the conversation, no matter how much the mundane tasks seemed like small distractions, everything could be a clue. She couldn't afford to get comfortable.
Not yet.
As the evening wore on, Carla finished her shift, silently leaving the office building and retreating back to her apartment.
She didn't allow herself any distractions tonight.
There was still too much to gather. Too many pieces to fit into place.
Carla's days were monotonous, but they were counterbalanced by the frenetic energy of her nights. As soon as she crossed the threshold of her apartment, she shed the persona of Maya Laurent and became Agent K once again.
Her first task every evening was to ensure her living space betrayed nothing.
She had chosen this apartment for its discretion: a minimalist two-bedroom with few furnishings and no personal items in sight. Yet, even in this neutral space, she took meticulous precautions.
With almost obsessive discipline, she cleaned every surface she had touched, wiping down doorknobs, light switches, her computer keyboard, and even the kettle. Nothing escaped her attention.
She frequently changed her bed linens, erasing any trace or mark that might one day be analyzed. The clothes she wore to work were carefully examined before being washed, ensuring that no hair or fiber was left behind.
Her personal computer, a modified model built for secure use, contained no sensitive files. All her data was stored on an encrypted device, hidden in a secret compartment under the floorboards of her closet.
Even if someone were to intrude, she knew there would be no tangible evidence left behind.
She went as far as cleaning the feet of her chair and table, hunting down the smallest dust particle that could bear an unwanted fingerprint. If anyone were to search this apartment, they would find nothing—nothing but a sterile, impersonal space.
Once her environment was secured, Carla could finally focus on her true mission. Sitting at her kitchen table, under the soft light of a lamp, she spread out everything she had gathered throughout the day.
Her personal notes, hastily jotted in a notebook she kept on hand, detailed seemingly insignificant details: snippets of overheard conversations, suspicious comings and goings, and the schedules of key employees. These fragments, though disparate, were beginning to form a web of clues.
Next to these notes, the encrypted messages from her mole took center stage. She decrypted them using software specially designed to obscure any attempt at tracing.
These pieces of information were far more precise, offering a glimpse into the operations within New Human Corp:
A delivery of sensitive equipment scheduled for the following day at the private heliport.A confidential meeting in a secure room on the east wing.
Names of external collaborators who appeared frequently, some seemingly connected to the serum's development.
Carla cross-referenced her observations with those from her mole, linking the dots with the precision of a seasoned investigator.
The result was an increasingly complex mental map, outlining the company's plans and, most importantly, John Wall's movements.
But despite her focus, her thoughts kept returning to him.
John Wall. The man was a mystery she couldn't solve. Why had he bothered recruiting her in person, only to ignore her completely afterward? Was it a calculated maneuver to test her, or simply a way to keep her at arm's length?
She replayed the look in his eyes during the interview, that unnerving blend of charisma and danger. Every word he spoke seemed charged with hidden meaning.
Carla hated him almost as much as she was fascinated by him. She wanted to understand this man, to figure out his next move.
But to do that, she had to get closer to him, gain his trust, and find a crack in his armor.
By the time the clock signaled the late hours of the night, Carla shut down her laptop, her notes spread out before her. She looked up at the wall, where she had drawn a timeline of events and upcoming plans.
One of her next objectives was clear: access John Wall's personal calendar.
Her mole had confirmed the existence of a private agenda, heavily secured with multiple layers of protection. If she could crack it, she could anticipate his movements, perhaps even discover where the serum was being developed.
But for that, she had to be patient. One misstep could be fatal.
Carla turned off her desk lamp and cast one last glance at her pristine apartment before crawling into bed. She was alone, isolated in this mission.
But she knew from the start that solitude was the price she had to pay for a job this dangerous.
Tomorrow, she would begin again.
Photocopying, observing, listening.
Then, when the time was right, she would strike.