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Date Posted: Sunday, May 14, 04:25:46pm
Author: Cynaera
Subject: Late.
In reply to: JayBee and Nell 's message, "Friday Challenge: May 12, 2006" on Friday, May 12, 03:15:18pm

I’m late. Her mind raced with possible explanations that would appease Operations, and none of them worked when she thought them through to the inevitable conclusion. It all came down to the same end: “You’re late. There better be a good reason why you’re disrupting a briefing. I’ll see you after we’re done here.”

She paused outside the briefing room, hearing that authoritative voice outlining the next mission. “Section One wiped out Helix, but a new generation has resurfaced in Iraq, and they’ve gone mercenary. Iraq, obviously, can pay top dollar for their kill-squad. Helix has signed on. We have reason to believe that Helix is not about the cause – they’re about the money…”

She slinked into the briefing room silently, trying to make herself as small as possible. As expected, Operations acknowledged her tardy arrival with a snide comment. “Nice of you to join us. You’ll be updated later. Try to prioritize a little better in the future.”

Whew. Could’ve been worse. She sat stiffly upright, absorbing every detail of the remainder of the briefing, and by the end of it, she felt she had a grasp of what was expected. As she stood to leave, a hand clasped her shoulder, and she spun around.

“Helix members don’t care about death. They’ll kill, they’ll die. They’ll do whatever it takes. Show no mercy. It’ll get you killed.”

She nodded curtly, blue eyes locked to those of her surprising confidante. She didn’t expect the question. “Are you okay? You were late.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. No bruises.”

“Good. See you in munitions.”

As her benefactor left the room, she glanced up – Operations was in the Aerie, looking down at her with – what? Disapproval? Pensive consideration? No matter. The mission was in progress, and she knew she had to get outfitted with her gear. She strode to the munitions area, glancing around, still a little bemused by the unexpected show of trust. Suspicious of it. This was, after all, Section, where no one could be trusted…

~ ~ ~


The mission went as coordinated, with no loss of life. Four Helix members had been captured and were in line for interrogation at the hands of a Level Nine agent. No one died, she thought in relief as she headed to munitions to check out her weaponry. No one died. She actually felt a fleeting smile cross her features, until the realization of where she was flooded back.

Devoid of guns and gadgets, she walked less confidently down the long hallway, yawning, feeling every day of her years, every muscle of her pain. She wondered how long she could maintain this life of bloodshed, sacrifice, and injustice. She pondered her future, and then, with a lightning bolt of inspiration, she knew she had no future.

A hand gripped her shoulder – the same hand that had captured her in the briefing room. “Don’t think it. Just do the job.” The hand left her, the donor of the words vanishing into the corridor like a vapor.

Just do the job.

~ ~ ~


Operations stood in the Aerie, blue eyes worried. “She was late again. That’s the third time in a month.”

“She’s a good operative. No casualties. Her fellow operatives like her.”

“She’s not reliable.”

“She is, where it counts most.”

“Still – she needs to be disciplined about her tardiness. The briefings aren’t just a time when I blow hot air!”

“Understood. I’d be careful about discipline, though. She’s walking a fine line. She needs encouragement, not reprimands.”

“All right. I think I see a way to remedy this. Thanks for your input.” The dismissal was polite and obvious.

~ ~ ~


The briefing room was filled with operatives. Operations stood behind the table, waiting patiently, confidently.

She strode in, swallowing nerves and apologies. Receiving a tacit nod from Operations, she sat down at the table, completely focused on the information to be imparted.

Operations gave an almost-imperceptible smile. Where would we be without Pavlov’s Dog?

End

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