Young Writers Society

You take a sip from the straw of your large sized Soda. You place it down. Something out of the ordinary takes your eye. Its not that out of the ordinary, not something vast enough to notice immediately. You take a closer look. Underneath the logo of the fast food branch the familiar slogan, "Loving is our recipe" is absent. It has been changed with another, not so friendly one. Printed in all capitals, in a font that is not so groovy, are the words "There is no escape". Your heart quickens. It's nothing, it is just a silly joke, I mean it's fast food, whats the worst it could mean? Your gut is telling you otherwise. You grab your scrunched up cheeseburger wrapper and flatten it out on the tray in front of you. It was written so large that when it was wrapped up on your cheeseburger it just looked like some sort of avant-garde pattern decorating your burger. But now the text is clear. It is bold. There is no escape. You look around yourself. Everyone is going about their day, munching on their greasy lunches. Nothing weird. Nothing strange. Everything seems further away though, much further away. Maybe it's just hunger pangs. After all you feel yourself craving another burger.





Character form: Post this first in the DT, then when it has been checked and finalized send it to the main sidebar thing. Also, try something new.



Participant Spaces


The Organizations:



Note from the creator:


Buddy system

You will be paired up with another member when you join. This is to ensure connection between characters and lollipops for everyone.
A lot of the time people in storybooks write to impress themselves. With this your aim is to impress your buddy.
You should always read your buddies posts with enthusiasm, as if they were your own.
Make a new friend.
Or no lollipops for you.

Before you go any further!
Please don't post here until we start the storybook. Put your profile applications on the DT. Also before you dive into it, there are a few writerfeedpads that we have established. I advise you look at the characters made so far before you start your own so you can connect them up a bit.
See the DT for more info.
( There Is No Escape DT)

How do you bump a thread? Anyone know?

Something that I forgot to include in the original post:

Throughout the storybook the head of the ADRP will be sending messages to his/her agents like the one in the introduction video.


Also there will be messages from "Mind" which work work in the same way as the ADRP player. Mind could be sending messages to his agents, the ADRP or the general public through anonymous communication.

(whoever plays that character, for example if you are the head of ADRP, you can either make it themselves or tell me what you want and I will make it for you)

~addition~
"Mind organization" is very new and has only recently become public. It may have been active for no more than a couple of years. When you write your profile for a mind agent make sure not to say things like "has been serving under Mind for 10 years" or something along the lines. "since the organization was founded" is legitimate, but take into consideration that was only two years ago.

On the other hand ADRP is a very old agency who has been around for a while taking down powers and being kick-ass secret-agents government officials. They could have been around for 50 or even 200 years or anything you like.

Please submit your profiles everyone.

Hey can I have two people?

Alright, were starting. No posts here unless storybook.

"Gunner"
ADRP
Central City Burger Yard.
16:47

Three agents stood staunch in front of the Burger Yard on Broad Street, this specific outlet was the main office to all of its current stores around the city and the country. It was a two-storey building; quite new, large glass panels lined its front. All of the available walls were painted in the ghastly orange and greens of the Burger Yard logo.
"Take in your surroundings," Gunner, the senior operative agent, instructed. The two younger ones turned their faces from left to right, briefly and inconspicuously, just how they had been trained. There were two potted ferns, a dirty old bench and an over-flowing rubbish bin. Gunner nodded and they all strode in through the sliding electronic doors.
They bee-lined straight for the counters, inspecting the room out of the corner of their eyes. There was one fat looking family dining by a window table. A hobo sleeping on the long chairs in the corner, two cashiers at the tills, one attendant at the soda machine, a couple eating their burgers and a schoolboy who had just walked in the door behind them. It was a slow day for Burger Yard; it had been in a long time. With all of the other fast-food branches under the control of Mind, their popularity had been increased by over 500% from Minds genius advertisement techniques and addictive additive. Burger Yard had yet to be immersed into the scheme of Mind, but was obviously its next target.
The three stood in front of the register, a small old woman was standing ahead of them, looking ahead and chewing on nothing. Gunner whipped out a piece of official paper and stuffed it in her face.
"Jane Smith" she stated the generic identity bluntly, "I'm with the government."
The woman looked up with a gummy smile.
"That's lovely; may I take your order dearie?"
Gunner felt the man young at her right tighten. His name was Shade, characterised by his perpetual dark sunglasses. Gunner put her hand up to calm him. This was simply an informative mission. Get in, get out, with as little words as possible and with no trouble, however with mind everything was unpredictable, and Gunner could feel that Shade was itching for some action. She turned to the younger woman at her left, a young agent named Melody. They had prior agreed that if any words needed honeying up then she would do the talking. Melody got the signal and smiled sweetly at the old lady.
"Would you mind pointing us in the direction of where we may find your boss, Miss?" she asked. The elderly one let out an almost squeekish laugh followed by a large grin. She lifted a narrow finger and pointed at a door, titled "Staff toilet".
There was a deep throaty rumbling sound, then a rush of flushing water. The door was suddenly wrenched open with such a force that it ricocheted off the wall behind it. A rather stout but buff woman stepped out, graying hair tucked up into a hairnet with a stained apron that had something brown streaked across it.
"Right you ol' lazy good for nuthings you better had not have been slackin' while I was busy being busy." She yelled at the top of her lungs which echoed around the whole building. The customers didn’t seem to notice at all, but there was a sudden crash in the corner as the snivelling red haired attendant spilled the entire of the ice machine contents on the floor.
The ice cubes slid clean across the floor into ever corner of the place, even underneath Melody's heels. The woman in the hair net went redder than a cherry, waving her fist as she marched toward the frightened child.
"GOOD FOR NOTHING BRAT! Look what yo'r done to the place I’ll have you here all night cleaning it up with your..."
"Calm yourself woman." Gunner said, raising her voice at the manager lady. The angry one snapped her head around, her face so red that it was turning blue.
"Who in bloody name are you?" she spat, "What are you doing loitering around my place."
Gunner stepped forward, intimidating the intimidator.
"We are from the government, if you would please escort us out back so we could speak in private?"
The woman looked like she was vibrating, trying to think of something to say.
"Hey lady"
The three agents and the manager turned around to see the schoolboy addressing the angry woman.
"There was a package outside the door when I came in," he said "courier must have left it."
She seemed to sigh in annoyance then turned to the scared and slight stick of the red haired attendant.
"Ed go fetch that package" she barked, "I have to go and talk to these people who think they are so high and mighty." She then turned to the Asian schoolboy who had spoken moments before.
"And you, kid, stop loitering. Buy something or leave."
She turned on her heels and marched off down a back trail behind the kitchen, the three agents following her.


"Name?"
"Nancy Pound, wh...”
"You own the entire branch 'Burger Yard' correct?"
"Yes... bu.."
"Silence."
Gunner was on edge, she did not like this blabbering big mouth, she just wanted to get her job done and go home. The other two were just as restless.
"As you may have noticed, there is an outside force interfering with the other main fast-food chains in the country. This is the reason that your business has been notably slow recently."
Nancy opened her mouth in reply then closed it again at Gunners glare, then in turn opened it as she returned her own glare.
"What do you want from me..? You.. You government people."
It was Shades turn to lean in; Gunner let him as she was always considerate to give the newer operatives opportunities to practice their speech in less dangerous situations.
“We simply want your co-operation." he said, smoothly. Nicely done Shade.
"This organization in question will attempt to contact you" he continued. "We need you to report to us at every suspicious phone call, letter, email that you get. Every suspicious action that you notice or is reported at any of you places."
Nancy nodded at first but then frowned. "And if I don't? What's in it for me?"
"Your livelihood." Gunner stated. If this organisation controls you then they will control everything, you will no longer be in charge of Burger Yard, you will no long have your legacy."
Melody softly slid a card across the table toward the short woman.
"This is our number." Gunner stated, "Contact us often and at every chance you get. We are determined to bring down this criminal organization and safe your fast-food chain."
The three stood up simultaneously.
"I will be hearing from you soon, Nancy." Gunner concluded.

"Shade"
ADRP
Central City Burger Yard Parking Lot.
17:30

Gravel crunched under the tires of the ADRP Lexus. The silver sports car was sleek, fast, and smart, fitted with gadgets for almost any situation. We rode in silence, appreciating the way the sickening stench of greasy fast food gave way to fresh outdoor air.
Gunner drove, Melody in shotgun. I preferred the back, where no one could see me curse my mistakes after missions. I leaned against the car door, gazing out the window as the landscape unfolded around me. I longed to remove my sunglasses, to appreciate the sunny sky better, but no. I reprimanded myself at the thought. I never removed the glasses. Ever.
I shook my head. I decided to review the past hour, to take my mind off of...life.
After each mission, I would rate myself on how well I had handled the situation, and then onto what I could have done better. As a new agent, with less than a year at ADRP, I was eager to get as much experience and excitement out of each mission as possible. I'm also very harsh on myself, which can be good when trying to reach a goal, not so much when it comes to self esteem.
My flaws in this mission; I was too tense. As Gunner had often said, a good agent is a relaxed agent. That way, you can appear casual and natural in any environment. I feared that I had let my disgust in fast food show through too clear, as well as allowing my ADHD to get me off task. I had gotten distracted on ways to fix the ice machine, and once my mind got started on solutions...
Next time, I needed to be focused at all times. There was no telling when I could miss valuable information through a stupid mistake. I did do a bit better at taking in my surrounding quickly and casually this time, without making it obvious I was scoping out escape routes, as I always did.
I wondered if that Nancy Pound character would actually report to us. Yeah, she would lose her job if she didn't, but she didn't seem like the brightest crayon in the box. I mused about whether more...harsh manners of ensuring that she did may have to be applied. We would just have to see how things worked out.
I was shaken from my thoughts at Gunner's low voice.
"You two did good today."
She didn't look up from the wheel, but her words were sincere.
I just nodded, knowing she could see me in the rear view mirror. Melody did the same.
"Thanks," she mumbled.
It was comforting that we had another agent as anti-social as me. People thought I was shy and meek, but I was anything but that. I loved action and adventure, but I was a failure when it came to making friends. Melody was blunt and talked much more than I did, but she still hid her emotions and almost everything else about her from the rest of the world, just like me. We both shared a common distrust of others.
I felt the strange urge to protect her from whatever had caused her to go into her shell. I wanted to talk to her, actually talk to a human being. Maybe our similarities could help our acquaintance strengthen into a friendship.
It's strange really, for a withdrawn person to be interested in another, because you would think that they would be even more repulsed by someone like them, a person who is repulsed as well. The irony was almost too great to bear.
I sighed and ran a hand through my short spiky hair. There went my rambling mind again.
I needed to stay away from Melody, just as I did with everyone else. I had my reasons, and she probably had her own. Besides, relationships would only distract from the missions. And those missions affected the world.
By staying away from her, I would be protecting the world.

But who would protect her?

|Jason Evans|


Laughter echoed through the house. It seemed to resonate and echo about, drifting through empty room after empty room, only to slowly die away in the vastness of the sky.

Jason frowned, looking up at the building. It was a simple home, two stories, four bedrooms probably. He was willing to bet that it just housed some family. Why did MIND have suspicions of whoever it was who lived here?

He shook his head, half tempted to go inside and ask a few questions. That wasn't his place. Someone would eventually be sent to do it, but they would probably be an agent who carried a bit more . . . tact, than Evans did.

Smiling gently to himself, he turned away from the building and began to pace down the street back toward his house. I've got tact, just as long as it's a die-if-you-let-your-guard-down situation.

This town was a boring place on the outside. Just a few square miles of suburban boringness, with a few skyscrapers tossed into the middle. If you were just passing by, you'd see people plodding about as they lived their normal, boring lives. Nothing would seem at all odd to you.

But outward appearances can be deceiving. Jason almost laughed to himself as he shrugged his jacket off, standing just inside the front door to his house, and revealed a heavy nylon vest. Plenty of people in this town lived double lives, and plenty of those who did so REALLY wanted to kill MIND agents like Jason.

Nobody really knew anything about ADRP. MIND agents knew that they were government, they were well within their kill-zone, and they had to be disposed of if MIND was to thrive.

And 'the disposing of ADRP agents' was Jason's speciality. It was all he did these days. The hard part was finding out who was who. ADRP agents were practically impossible to torture, seeing as they always killed themselves before capture, and digging them out of this miserable town's seven million people was a pain.

Well, the digging was usually done by someone else. Jason took care of the disposing.

Tossing his jacket over the edge of his couch he sat down, sighing with satisfaction. He hadn't had to kill anyone today, but the Carson family, who lived in the house down the street that he'd just visited, had fallen under surveillance.

But Jason had run into Mr. Carson a number of times. He was no ADRP agent. He was just a dumb citizen. But his view of things wasn't taken into account by anybody at the headquarters, so the surveillance would continue.



KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Jason growled to himself, annoyed by the unexpected noise, “Nobody's here! Go away!”

“Now sweetie!” came a familiar voice, penetrating his apartment door, “is that a way to talk to me?”

Jason sighed. Violet. Nobody liked Violet, meanie of a MIND personnel as she was. Well. Most nobody. “Just a minute!” he called, rolling off of his couch and pacing over to the door.

Unlocking it he found himself face to face with the beautiful Violet. S; long brown hair falling around her shoulders, stylishly clothed, smiling demurely. “Yes Violet,” he demanded grumpily.

She pursed her lips to him, “come on dear, we've known each other for too long to be talking like that!”

He glared at her, “I don't know you, do you need something?”

She rolled her eyes and dropped the facetious expression, “what if I was just stopping by to say hello?”

His eyes narrowed, “if that's the case then you're about to have the door slammed in your face.” As he said it, he did so, slowly turning and heading back for the couch.

“Jason! You're a downright good-for nothing-”

“Save it!” he cut her off, dropping down.

There was a long pause.

“Nick wants you,” came Violet's voice, finally.

Jason nodded to himself. Of course N.N wanted him. She always wanted him, “tell her I'll be there in a bit.”

“You tell her!” Feet stomped down the stairs.

Jason sighed. Doing odd-jobs for N.N was undesirable job #1 at MIND, after the job he officially held. But he needed the variation supposedly, and the tottering little red-haired lady seemed to be able to amuse Jason very easily on some base level.

Slowly he got out of his couch once again and reached for his jacket.

Nancy Pound, Burger Yard Manager

Three tiny little kiddies waltzed in her store—her store!—only to waltz back out before handing her a business card that they oh-so-want her to reach. Who did these people think they were, warning her of stupid lies that they probably made up to prank her with!

Ugh, the nerve of these people.

"ED!" Nancy roared, suddenly diverting her attention to the scrawny freckle-faced boy that sauntered his way over to her with a package, only to trip on a chair after she yelled his name. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Really, he was only sent to retrieve a package that conveniently came when those annoying bugger-headed government people stopped by all cheeky with a you-better-call-us-or-monsters-will-come-and-get-you kind of attitude, and here Ed was, tripping over chairs and customers.

FIRED. HE WAS SO TOTALLY FIRED.

The wild-haired scrawny boy fumbled as he scurried over to Nancy like a mouse, handing her the package before she snatched it out of his hand, the threat of firing him once again burning in her eyes. "Get back to work, or I'll dump you in the dumpster again!" she seethed in front of his face, her face turning cherry red.

Feeling better that her good-for-nothing employees are back to work, she turned and passed Ms. Lounce, the only employee she calls by last name for reasons unknown, and went inside the little manager's office, slamming the door behind her.

Burger Yard is, for the most part, doing well. Although it was true that it has been so much slower than it has been compared to the past, it was still striving, right? So what did those ninnyheads think about coming in and yapping about how they could make her restaurant better? Those good for nothing—

What was in this package, anyways?

Nancy stared at it. It was lightweight, though wrapped heavily in bubble wrap under the brown paper, making it impossible to guess what it could be.

The card that was slid to her moments ago when the needy people came to talk to her seemed to innocently sit on her desk, waiting for her to grab it and consider calling the number on the otherwise empty card.

Ridiculous! Nancy scoffed in her mind, tearing the package open.

One bubble wrap uncovered.

Two.

Three.

And then a stifled gasp.

There, uncovered in her bare hands, was a simple cup. But it was not just a simple cup; it was her cup—Burger Yard's cup. It was the older ones, back a handful of long years ago when Burger Yard had the older manager and the place was always busy.

WHAT A DEAL! the front window would say in orange and green window markers. ONE LARGE CUP FOR 99¢!

But the thing was, those weren't normal cups. They were the premium special ones that were only there for a limited time only. It wasn't anything huge, really; it was just a normal plastic cup with a different Burger Yard design. It was back when the restaurant was experimenting with a new look, and that little different cup phase only lasted for a good amount of months until it changed again.

Those were years ago, and the cups are just about gone and extinct. But here, in her hands, was an exact replicate.

THERE IS NO ESCAPE, it says in the back.

...

...So maybe those needy ninnyheads didn't seem so bad after all.

Jun
Central City Burger Yard.
16:54


Jun had glared as the three people followed the ugly woman out the back. Her fat backside was always getting into everyones faces. He hated coming here, but it was necessary, besides, Ed was here. Jun walked up to the counter and placed down a dollar to buy a small slushy. The old woman give him a toothy smile.
"Jun why are you buying that? You always tell me never to eat food at these places." Ed asked as he scuffed up to his side.
"Its for my sister." Jun said blankly; he couldn't be bothered to explain to Ed's slow receiving brain how he was just going to stand there holding it so that the fat lady wouldn't yell at him when she came back. Jun let his eyes settle on his unlikely friend; his body was weak and bony, his posture meek. His attempt to look scarce only made him stand out even more.
"Ed." Jun said, alerting the orange boy to lift his head. Jun tapped his own collar, he was still wearing his uniform, as he had come right from school. It wouldn't be fore much longer though, soon the pathetic era of high-school would be over for him and it would simply be a waiting game until his sixteenth birthday.
"You're still wearing your bow-tie, from Fried Fingers."
Ed gulped and almost tore it off, stuffing it into his back pocket. Jun could only imagine how quickly he may be fired if his boss found out he had multiple jobs. There was a snap as another door was thrown open and the managers booming voice started getting louder. Ed scurried off and got busy mopping up ice-cubes.
Jun made purpose to make eye contact with the bossy manager as he dropped the slushy in the bin, completely full. It amused him to see her face when she saw her own food going to waste, untouched.

Jun was about to leave when he noticed the three dressed in formal attire. the trio were highly suspicious, had in no way were covering the fact that they were here on official business. His eyes followed the trail of the youngest woman. She was older, he knew, but she was rather pretty, she had some sort of unique allure about her..
Jun shook himself off. The desires of puberty were frivolous. He was highly reluctant for the period of life ahead of him, it was not something to look forward to.
To much of his surprise the young woman approached him with an inquisitive smile on her face. Jun felt smug, he knew she was going to question him, perhaps now would be a time to practice some lines.
"Hey there," she started, with a friendly yet fake expression plastered across her face, "you said you saw a courier earlier, could you describe them?"
Jun paused for a moment, playing the words on his lips.
"I could, but would that really be in my best interests now?"
The girl glared at him just slightly, but her eyes were smiling in a sort of subtle contempt. Jun smiled back with equal viciously as the trio turned to leave the way they had come.
The built-up burger women yelled several things at Ed before snatching the package out of his arms and storming back to her office. Ed tried to make himself look busy, mopping up the ice in no particular fashion which resulted in spreading it out even more. The entire floor now had a wet and slippery sheen to it.
"I'm going, see you later Ed" Jun announced, trying to seem friendly enough.
Ed mumbled something but Jun couldn't understand, instead he simply left the dirty place.

Jun enjoyed the walk home from the train station. The greenery of the suburbs were a lot more pleasant than the concrete city and the silence gave him plenty of time to have thoughts to himself. He reached the front door of his home and kicked it open with his foot. It was always unlocked at this time.
"Jun why are you being so rough? That's not like you."
Yoshi.
Jun had not expected his older sister to be home, although recently she had been making frequent visits away from her inner city apartment back to the family home and staying, sometimes for days on end.
"I'm sorry, sister" as he plastered on a monotone expression to match his voice. "One of the teachers asked me to write an exemplar paper for the younger students and I am frustrated at the tedious task."
She nodded, that was easily in his character.
"You'll be fine, you get that stuff done all the time." she comforted.
Jun agreed and then proceeded upstairs to his room. His little sister, Momoe, intersected him on his way up.
"Nii-ch..." she started in her high pitched squeaky voice. It was fake, he knew, she was trying to talk like the 'cute' girls of anime.
"Why are you wearing makeup Momoe?" He interrupted, his tone perhaps a little harsh. Her face froze for a second and then tears welled up in her eyes. She lurched herself away, running, crying up to her room.
She was so immature, what was the point in crying over a statement.
Jun slammed the door of his bland room. It was plain colours, barely anything personal save his favourite pens he used for writing essays. The bookshelves mainly consisted of textbooks, all of them old. he was far to advanced for them now.
He threw his bag at his bed and sat down at his computer, cupped in the brown leather chair. He was busy now. He had things to do.

Melody Claire Milonas
ADRP
17:44
HQ


I’m not sure what I expected field work to be like. I certainly didn’t picture there would be a creepy guy stalking my every move. I mean, I could only imagine that he was monitoring my actions, due to the miniscule, unimportant speck of a detail that he wore these large, designer sunglasses that hid half of his face. Gunner, our senior field agent, had introduced him as Shade. If I had been born last week, I would have asked if Shade was dude’s real name. I don’t like Shade. He acts as if I’m not to be trusted. I find this fact almost humorous, because he hides behind his own wall of fallacies. I’m not hiding anything whatsoever.
After our little excursion to Burger Yard, Gunner, Shade and I were driving further and further from downtown. Gunner maneuvered the car down a long stretch of abandoned highway, until we reached a barely-populated area. On the left side of the road, a run-down plaza remained. It, most likely, had not been restored since 1980, judging by the gaudy coral paint that was chipping away in large strips along the structure. On the opposing side of the street, a blooming retirement home rested. It appeared to be a quite...expensive establishment. Gunner turned the car into the parking lot.
“This is your new home, Melody.” Gunner spoke quietly, her eyes focused on the building ahead. Gunner’s face was always void of emotion. I didn’t react.
When I was working as an intelligence agent for the ADRP, I completed my work from remote locations around the world. I liked to stay far away from trouble, despite the fact that it always tracked me down. When I was offered a position as a field agent for ADRP’s latest case, I was conflicted. Until the most recent of circumstances, I would have never accepted the higher-paying position. I had never imagined, never contemplated being a field agent, and surely never known that I would go to such extreme measures until they suddenly became necessary.
Gunner parked the car, and the three of us entered the retirement home. The receptionist smiled at me and gestured to the sign-in list resting on the counter. I moved my lips a fraction, forcing the polite gesture. On the list of names, I printed “Lily Delos,” a pseudonym rearranged from letters of my true name. At least, I could maintain a Greek name true to my heritage.
I shifted to the right, allowing Shade to step up and scrawl something on the sheet. I tried to inconspicuously crane my head to read what name he had written, even though I know he would’ve also used a fake name. Why do you care what name he uses? I scolded myself.
After we had signed in, Gunner led us down a bright hallway, to a door labeled “Library”. Shade held the door for us and I avoided looking at his sunglasses. “Thanks,” I muttered. Shade turned his head to look at me curiously.
The library was empty of both books and inhabitants. Empty bookcases lined the walls. Gunner walked over to a bookshelf near the far wall. She used her hand to probe the bottom side of one of the shelves. After a moment, she seemed to press or pull something that I could not identify. And suddenly, the bookcase moved a foot or so backwards and slid to the right, like an automatic door. This gave way to a bright hallway, with a door and pass-code lock.
“Do I need the pass-code?” I asked quietly.
“No.” Gunner replied.
Thanks for making me feel like a team member, I thought bitterly.
“Does Shade have the pass-code?” I asked, yet again, my voice was barely a whisper.
“Yes.” Gunner gave me a look. I got the same look from my parents – the one that says shut up in one language but was coherent in four different galaxies.
I glanced at Shade. Not to my surprise, Shade was already staring at me.
“Do you wear those sunglasses all the time?” I spoke under my breath.
The door opened and Gunner led us into an elevator. The elevator had only one button, which Shade pressed as he entered. The door shut behind him and we descended.
“Did you hear me?” I asked Shade.
“Yes.” The first time I heard his voice, I was surprised. It wasn’t as scary as I thought it would have been. For a brief instant, I thought my ears detected an accent to his voice. Or maybe it was just his sarcasm.
I wanted to ask more questions. But I refrained. I gave him an irritated look. He gave me one back, although it wasn’t successful due to his big, ugly sunglasses.
The elevator continued going down for a while. Based on some quick calculations in my head, I estimated that wherever we were going was at least 10 stories below ground-level.
I held my breath as the elevator doors opened. We were in a huge room with high ceilings and padded walls. “What is this place?” I asked with wonder in my voice.
“This is the training center for new recruits.” Gunner replied.
“Why didn’t I do training?” I looked around at the people, all dressed in black. Some were practicing hand-to-hand combat techniques, while others were throwing knives at aiming boards.
“You were chosen for different reasons. What you may or may not be able to do physically does not benefit the ADRP. We only care for your intellectual abilities.” Someone called to Gunner enthusiastically, and she smiled at them. Her smile was startling in contrast to her usual stoic demeanor. She displayed a set of bright, white teeth and her face lit up cheerily.
“So what does a field agent do while they are here?” I questioned as Gunner led us past the training area, towards a small hallway.
“You are our newest field agent, but your history with the ADRP as an intelligence agent makes you a very valuable member to our team. You have your own space where you will be monitoring new leads and collaborating with other intelligence agents for potential leads. The work that you will be doing as a part of this team is much like what you’re accustomed to.” Shade walked quickly through a dimly-lit hallway until he reached the last door of many. He opened the door and walked inside.
The room was vast. To one side, there was an arrangement of desks, and to the other, there were large tables where other agents appeared to be lounging around. In the center of the room, there were a few male agents playing some game in the center of the room with sticks.
“Melody, you will be set up in this area of the room, where you are free to explore any leads that may be connected to MIND.” Gunner walked towards the desks. Shade walked in the opposite direction, towards the large tables. He passed a few groups of people, but eventually sat down at a vacant table.
I focused once again on what Gunner was gesturing towards. Each desk had a large, expensive computer resting on its surface. “What if I don’t have any current leads to follow?” I questioned.
“Well, in that case, feel free to socialize. That’s what everyone else does. However, I don’t endorse socializing. But I won’t stop you.” Gunner stopped walking as she stood in front of one of the desks. There was a small plaque with my name on it. ‘M. Milonas’, it read.
“Get to work,” Gunner said. I sat down in a black swivel chair and set my messenger bag next to the high-tech computer. When I glanced back, Gunner was gone.

Director Harry Stealburnkoto
ADRP
Agency Headquarters
1800

Harry Stealburnkoto bit his lip as he pulled the aged mug from between his puckers and the instinctive reaction that followed got his pants wet with coffee. Perhaps a lesser man would have cream and foam sitting atop his slacks after that, but not Harry. Harry drank coffee like a real man – black.

That was one thing that his father had taught him back in the day when they were poor farmers in southern Japan. Not that you should always drink black coffee, because Linus Stealburnkoto had never drank coffee in his life until his mind had deteriorated to the state where he would forget the beverage’s existence by the next day.

No, his father had taught him that he was a real man. His three aspects of manhood were simple. A real man has perseverance. A real man has patience and respect. A real man is strong.

He recalled this briefly until the coffee soaked through his thin dress pants and began to burn his upper thigh. He cursed and stood up quickly, brushing off as much of the liquid as he could.

At this point the little light by his phone on the large mahogany desk lit up orange. Forgetting the spill, he pressed the intercom button and said, “Kenny. What’s up?”

“Harry, we have Agent 4 here to see you.”

His face lit up. “Oh! Fantastic. Beam her in, Scotty.”

She didn’t seem to get it. “This is Kenny Andrews. My name isn’t Scotty.”

“Wha- Yeah, Kenny, I know. Remember Star Trek?”

There was only silence on the other end. After about twenty seconds, Harry corrected his posture, cleared his throat and said, “Send her in.”

His two-ton opaque steel door between the office and his tightly monitored secure facility opened, opposite from the large, floor-to-ceiling, windows that separated the office from the outside world. Standing in the doorway was Gunner, wearing a business suit that was aesthetically nicer and more professional than Harry’s, yet undoubtedly less expensive.

“Hey there, Gunner!” he almost shouted, good to see you.

“Hello, sir,” she said. “Here to report the results of the mission.”

“Well go ahead then. And please, you’ve known me long enough to call me by my first name.”

She was still standing at attention, eyes fixed directly in front of her, yet not at Harry. “Yes, sir. I am here to report that the mission went successfully, and the nag has the bag.”

“Could you decode that for me please?”

“Nancy Pound has the business card, sir.”

“Ah, good. And would you cut out that “sir” crap, please? I work for a living.”

“Yes, Mr. Director.”

Harry shook his head, sighing. He could deal with this, and he would eventually get her to soften up to the ADRP cause a little, no matter how much she resisted it. A real man has perseverance.

“And do you think she bought the story?”

“As it is true, sir, yes, she did,” Gunner said, her voice in such a low, formal tone that you could practically hear the multiple commas in her sentence.

“Excellent job, Gunner. Excellent! You and the boys and girls here are doing a bang up job, I tell you,” he said enthusiastically. “Great work.”

“I don’t think praise is quite called for at this time, sir,” Gunner replied. “All we did was talk to a fast-foodista about calling in suspicious activity. Let’s try to keep this professional.”

“I’m sorry to have intruded on your sensibilities. Of course,” he said, brushing off that little blow-dart-to-the-pride. A real man has patience and respect.

“What do you have in mind for our next actions?”

Briefly contemplating whether that was a pun or a serious use of the word “mind,” Harry answered in the same nature as she did, with eyes naturally averted, rummaging through his desk. “We definitely need to deal with this warehouse situation. The patty-packing factory outside of downtown will have a surprise inspection tomorrow morning at 0800 hours if deemed safe for entry. You will be from the FDA,” Harry said as he handed her five food n’ drug badges. They were legitimate, and fresh off the office mill. One of the benefits of being part of the government was that you could get things from the government. “I can’t say for sure, but I would travel locked and loaded for this one. The activity around there has been going off the charts, according to Ry Stubyn, and she’s only been monitoring it for a few days.”

“I always travel that way.” Gunner lifted up her long, business jacket to expose a suppressed Sig Sauer strapped to her muscular thigh.

He laughed. “Don’t I know it. Now, brief Shade and Melody on your next movements then head down to R&D. Inform The Geek that his presence is needed on your mission.”

“Kirk Jones? Why?”

“We are going to need someone to diagnose any misconduct on the part of the factory machinery and/or cause it some internal problems. He doesn’t need to be in zoot suits like everybody else, but at least make him slap a FDA sticker over his ADRP one on the work shirt.”

“Gotcha, sir.” She nodded her assent.

“Then drop by the Ted Carson’s house before you go to the factory. Rylina is staking out the warehouse from there. If she’s not coming with you, she can at least enlighten you to the odds and ends of the plant.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go get ‘em, Agent 4! I wish you luck!”

She said, “Please, sir. I’m better off not relying on luck.” She turned to leave, but paused on her way out the door. “By the way, sir, you seem to have wet your pants.”

*

In the brightly, yet synthetically lit laundromat down the street from ADRP HQ, Harry stood, bottom half clothed by pink boxers, almost mesmerized by the melodic Indian music coming from the invisible speakers above. It seemed to be all played on an electric kazoo, and he could barely tell whether this was reality.

Next to me, Ms. Lounce, the sweet old woman who worked the night shift at We Wash ’Em™ after her day job at who knows where, grinned her sweet old grin as she threw Harry’s trousers into one of the many large washing machines, the crotch of said pants stain-sticked to relieve them of the coffee spot.

“And the government people were so pretty in their fancy clothes and sunglasses, Mr. Stealburnkoto,” she was saying. “Hey, maybe you know them.”

“Maybe…” he said, trying to pretend like he was paying attention.

“Oh darn,” she said. “This darn thing is acting up again.” She started to slam the faulty washing machine as hard as she could. “Sometimes giving it a little tough love helps it to start up.”

The little woman was tough, but her blows did nothing to jumpstart the washer.Harry held up one hand to stop her, then slammed his fist down on the metal top, denting the surface. Like a light, it flickered on, then hummed happily, slurping the cold coffee off his pants while it gave them a whirly ride.

“Oh,” she said happily. “Thanks!”

Harry Stealburnkoto now stood contentedly, arms folded, listening to the music and looking at his handiwork.

A real man is strong.

Rylina Stubyn
ADRP
Ted Carson's House

I sat in a lawn chair with chipping white paint. I doubted it had been painted in my lifetime, from the way it was faded and rusting. My feet were propped on the cheap plastic table in front of me, stained green from years of sitting under the very tree I sat under now. Having been sent off to stake out some warehouse, I'd been wearing 'civilian' clothing-- tight black pants, my black boots, and a black v-neck teeshirt. My hair fell on my shoulders messily.

I had a knife in my hand-- a big one, like a hunting knife-- and was trailing the tip of it across the light pink scar that ran up my left forearm. It was funny, how the blade could tickle me. Tim's blade-- the first one to trek across my arm-- certainly didn't tickle. Neither did the blood, as it came gushing out-- but my blade didn't cause blood, either. It just tickled.

I sighed and glanced out the small hole I'd cut in the hedges, to watch the warehouse through. There weren't many people left in it. It'd been buzzing for the few days before, but, last night, a girl slipped through the shadows and went into the warehouse. She wasn't in there long. I hadn't been able to get a good look at her, either-- but, shortly after she left, they started hauling things out. They'd been working to clear it out all night and, it seemed, they'd done a pretty good job of it.

I picked up a strand of hair out of my face, by the tip, and made a half-hearted pass at it with my knife. A few black hairs fell onto my shirt. I picked more up, and did the same-- again and again, barely cutting any of the hair. I was beyond bored.

I turned, slightly, and dug the tip of my knife into the tree, wiggling it, slowly making a hole in the bark. I slowly bore the hole bigger and bigger, digging away the bark sliver by sliver. After I had a hole big enough that I could've shoved my pinky in to, I threw my knife down, making it stick in the ground beside my chair.

"Six years of college..." I muttered under my breath, as I did stick my finger in the hole and twisted it, clearing out all debris. "Six years...and I'm sitting here babysitting a warehouse."

"Stubyn?" I heard a harsh voice calling me.

I was on my feet in an instant, grabbbing my knife, shoving it into its sheath on my back, before I dove to a squatting position in front of the hole I'd cut in the hedge. I glanced over my shoulder as Gunner and Shade came walking around the edge of the house "Oh, there you are."

I nodded, standing and brushing myself off, as if I'd been squatting there a long time.

"Debrief."

"There was a good bit of activity the past few days." I said promptly, straightening my back. "Hauling all that trash in and out-- but, yesterday night, late, a girl went in the warehouse. Right after she came out, they started hauling stuff out of the warehouse by the truckloads."

"A girl..." Gunner said slowly, frowning. "Who was it?"

"I don't know." I lifted a shoulder, shaking my head. "I couldn't see her well. She kept out of the light."

"Hm...well, you stay here and keep watch. We're going to go investigate."

"But, ma'am, wouldn't I be more use...if I..." I trailed off at her glare.

"I said you stay here."

I dipped my head. "Yes, ma'am."

She turned on her heel and started out of the yard, Shade right behind her. I watched them go, sighing. "Six years...and I'm still babysitting."

A moment later, Gunner reappeared. "Stubyn!"

I instantly straightened my back again. "Ma'am?"

"Come here."

I sprinted over to her. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Changed my mind." She slapped a badge down in my hand. "Get changed. You're officially an FDA agent-- I'll brief you more once you're ready."

"Ma'am!" I hurried in Carson's back door, grabbing my duffle bag, and heading into his bathroom. A few moments later I was dressed in my pant-suit, and hurrying out the door to meet Gunner and Shade, still shoving my gun into its holster. "I'm ready."