Two months late

4.       Two Months on

To Agent k8 Your next mission on the field is to find and replace the blueprints for the Secret Investigation, Protection and Inquiry Office (SIPIO)’s new Nuclear Safe Invisible Deep-sea War Submarine. It is to be believed that these blueprints are situated in the SIPIO Planning and Research Laboratory. Blue prints and necessary information included. Return with the information as swiftly and as inconspicuously as possible. This mission is to be executed as professionally as possible. Please remember that the aim of the mission is to achieve the goal if possible, and if not possible, to abort the mission inconspicuously.

Shelly sat at her desk on her computer and read the new mission that was just sent in to her email. Skimming over it, Shelly found that it was less then appealing.

‘Perfect.’ Shelly thought as she looked over the contents of the email.

Just perfect. The mission coordinators only ever sent a warning if the mission was particularly dangerous. Or if there was a blemish on her records. Which, owing to her last mission, there was. And always would be. Up until now, Shelly had prided herself in a perfect, untouched, beautiful record and an unfriendly reputation.

Now the only thing that she had was her reputation, which was as spiky as an urchin and as unchangeable as, well, Shelly mused; the chance of her transformation could only be compared to the chance of her transformation. Anyway, nothing could stay the same forever, nothing was permanent, and so there was nothing to compare her character to. It made sense to Shelly.

Shelly was as nettle-like as a thorn, as welcoming as a box of vipers, and as cold as solid Nitrogen.

˜·™

The girl walked slowly along the dim corridor; hand at her waist, where her gun was stored. Breathing deeply, yet as silently as she could, she slowed down to ease her nerves. The room was right along to her left, after the sharp right-hand turn. She didn’t like that turn. A whole troop of soldiers could be hiding there without her knowing, and she would walk right into them. Silently treading the tiled floor, she crept along the passage way. Was there a shadow there behind the corner, or was it just her troubled mind. ‘Take no chances’ was what she had promised to do. ‘Just attempt to get the blueprint’. The girl’s absolutely soundless footsteps sounded like thunder in her ears. All of a sudden her palm was too sweaty to grip her gun. Was that breathing hers or anothers’? An abrupt and unshielded movement behind the corner affirmed her until now over-active suspicions. She raced down the dangerously small corridor, and in milliseconds bullets and miniature explosions of noise ricocheting around her.

At that moment, and for years to come, the girl wondered how in all possibilities that not one bullet critically hit her.

In flashes of light the bullets whizzed all around her, seeking only to destroy. A bullet struck her pack and hit the bullet proof document case. The girl heard a faint ping as it struck. The exact same moment the bullet ripped a savage hole in her pack, a terrible thought struck her. Mid-run she ripped off her pack, threw it, averting her eyes from what she knew would happen next. All this happened in about the space of less than two seconds. Afterwards, she realised that, if the bullet had not struck the grenade, she would have been lost without her pack. But now, she didn’t think about that. She was thinking about how to save her life. The specially ordered Mild 3 Second grenade would detonate in one second, and although it was classified Mild, she would be seriously injured by the explosion.

‘BOOM!’

A blinding light and searing, wrenching pain engulfed Shelly’s right arm, side and face and the Grenade exploded. Even through her tightly shut eyelids stars crossed her vision and dizzied her. Still hurtling from the detonation, she scrabbled along the corridor. The bullets had stopped and Shelly knew that the guards, too had been blinded, though even more so then her, since they had been gazing directly at the backpack, probably wondering why the girl was taking it off.

Nearly at the end of the corridor, Shelly faced a decision. Would she take the left, that turned straight to the server and technical headquarters,  the right which lead off deeper into the Research centre, or the front which, although lead closest to the exit, continued straight ahead for some time. With a split second of time left, she skidded left. As Shelly’s eyes were still adjusting after the explosion, she hoped that the shooters would still be blinded from the blast as she was; it was little more than hope.

There lay the door, gloriously close. Shelly ran to it and slammed her weight against it and turned the handle. It didn’t budge, and for a moment, any thought of escape was completely snuffed out.

Then Shelly remembered that she was meant to pull on that door, not push it.

Once again, Shelly grabbed the handle and heaved for freedom. And once again it did not move. A faint rattle told of a lock that kept the door in place. Shelly cursed her defiance at the unmoving locked door as she pounded at it. There was no lock on this side of the door, so Shelly couldn’t pick it. And the lock would almost certainly be wired, too. No point trying to run back the other way, it looked like the chance to bleach her stained reports was now about to be gone along with the reports, for stamped across them would be a big, red ‘killed in action’. But she would not be around to see that. She would be long gone.

Author's Note

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