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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 2 (v.1)

Submitted: August 04, 2012

Reads: 87

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 04, 2012



Charlotte -

The door was locked damn it. I looked through the peep hole of the apartment door; the gross beige stripped wallpaper in the hallway greeted me from the other side, and sighed. Sure, people had every good reason to be paranoid in this city, like how this guy had a deadbolt lock installed on his door that had to be opened by a key; on both sides!

I stalked back through the living room, past sleeping bodies thrown over the floor and sofas. I found my black jacket being used as a pillow by some girl with wild red hair and smeared makeup. I yanked it out from under her head so fast that she never even noticed it was moving. As I walked, I checked to make sure my keys were in its pocket, my cell phone, and that my debit card was safely tucked into a hidden pocket in the jacket lining. They were all there. Good, this city wasn’t short of all kinds of thieves after all.

I went to the window and pried it open, then looked down. Sixth floor, I shrugged my shoulders, not so bad. I swung one leg over the opening, straddling the frame and searching for my next point of entry. I found it, one floor down and one room over, and kicked the other leg over to follow. As I fell I saw the window quickly disappear from my vision, followed by the tiny ledge bellow it. Without hesitation, I reached up and grabbed onto the ledge, my legs dangling underneath me as I put my gymnastic skills to good use. I found the next window frame down below me with the tip of my aqua high-heeled shoe and gently eased down onto it, grabbing onto the side of the concrete window frame to try and steady myself. I then stepped down slowly to the ledge underneath that window, and inch my inch scooted across until I reached my target.

When I landed in the neighbor’s living room there was no one there. Snoring could be heard coming from the bedroom and I couldn’t help but feel a little angry. Didn’t they know that anyone could have come in through that window while they were happily sleeping? They were lucky it was only me. Albeit, sure it’s a little rude to just come in through a stranger’s window just to use their door. Thinking about it now, I could have just woken up the guy who owned the apartment where the party, which was fantastic by the way, had been and asked to be let out. That thought didn’t cross my mind until now, and I had already done what I had done and I was late for work. I didn’t have time to self reflect anymore on my ruffian behavior, so I walked to their door and unlocked it. I made sure to lock it back before shutting the door and slipping away.

I made a mad dash, a fast walk, through the city streets and to my apartment, my heels clicking as I went. The apartment complex I lived in was grand compared to the slum like streets, right at the heart of the city, in the middle of all the action, but it would probably seem grand anywhere else as well. Actually, it was called The Grand, and I lived on the thirteenth story of it, one story from the top. The elevator ride was long but there was never much of a wait for it. The rich that lived here spent very little time at home. In fact, many of the apartments here were just one of the many homes they owned. I was one of the few exceptions. I decided to leave my other “home” as soon as I could, as soon as I was offered my new, strange job position. The fact that the job was one that seemed interesting at the least didn’t matter as much as the fact that it was far, far away from my father and his wife.

Classy down to our last goodbye, my father bought me an apartment at The Grand, had it furnished with the finest of furnishings, and casually said goodbye, as if he was dismissing a small time employee from his company. Of course, my stepmother made a big show at first, asking me not to go and telling me I was a smart and beautiful young woman who was fully capable of finding a job closer to home, but once she realized that my father was less concerned about what happened to me while I was away than even I had expected, she decided she couldn’t have cared less either. She thought what he thought, jumped when he said jump, walked where he walked, and while I thought it was disgusting, I think things would be even worse if she had a mind of her own.

I don’t think I need to explain to you why I wanted to get away so badly. You could tell me that perhaps he just didn’t know how to show his love, or that she was just afraid of showing who she really was, afraid of rejection, but you would not be able to convince me that what you had told me was true. Deny it as you might, there are such things as bad parents. My parents weren’t the worst, but by no means were they good. And they sure weren’t healthy for me.

When in my apartment I didn’t stop to enjoy the cool pastel colors, the modern sleek furniture, the stark black and white accents, decorated in contrast with old albums on the walls, antique vases and figurines, and my very own touches that added a little Paris like flare. I headed straight to my bedroom, kicked off my heels into the floor, shoved my feet into my black combat boots, and threw my long blonde hair up into a ponytail. I didn’t bother changing clothes, my employers long knew that I dressed how I liked, as long as it didn’t get in the way of my job, so my multi-colored tribal printed shirt, black cotton jacket, and black leather skinny jeans stayed. I realized my makeup looked nearly as ghastly as that girl’s at the apartment did, so I touched it up with a little bit of foundation and blush and figured that was good enough. My job didn’t necessarily require you to look good, as long as you could kick ass, though I never thought it hurt to look decent while doing it.

No time to stop, I grabbed my mail that I had left on the kitchen counter, bills and notices addressed to a Ms. Charlotte Day, and headed out the door and out of the complex, into the early morning streets, and hailed a cab to the train station.

The train drove through the country, passing telephone poles and barbed wire fences and sheep and cows. The fog was glued to the ground here as always, floating over the green, dew soaked grass like a blanket of clouds had dropped down from the grey sky. I flipped through my mail as the train slowly rocked me. Most of them were bills, some were junk advertisements, one was from my fashion magazine subscription, and another was a letter from a place called Bar-le-duc in France. My throat clenched as I saw that letter and I tucked it underneath the others without bothering to open it. I wouldn’t look at it again for nearly a month.

I looked out the window, taking my mind off of it. As I rode I passed where I worked. It was a large facility in the middle of nowhere, but nothing about it stood out and raised many questions. It was surrounded with fences and was comprised of the main offices and many warehouses linked together, all made of the same grey concrete, with very few windows. Those who might inquire as to what the building was would be given the same answers by other civilians who knew nothingmuch of thefacility and had been given that same answer once before that, “It’s probably an agricultural center or some kind of plant.”

This was Nova, headquarters to The Nova Force, an elite group of agents trained to take on criminal cases that surrounded unusual circumstance. Otherworldly, supernatural circumstance.

The train took me past the headquarters to the train station. From there, a car arrived to pick me up and escort me to the facility. Only these authorized cars were granted access into the facility by the guards at the gate.

As usual, I found myself assigned to testing weapons at the shooting range. When we weren’t on cases this is what we did. We either trained ourselves to be stronger or acted as guinea pigs so that we could find ways to make ourselves stronger. I was one of the Forces best marksmen. I had an unmatched shooting record. My hands jerked backwards as I tested our new pistols, recently in development, though the recoil was smoother and less forceful than I was used to. The pistol is something the Forces had never seen before, and I must admit that there isn’t much we haven’t seen, and even I had to give our development team props. The sleek and small design made it easy to carry. It had a tracking device built in in case it was stolen. These weren’t even the best parts. Even though the gun was so small, it housed several chambers and a rotating barrel. The pistol was capable of shooting off bullets as well as darts and tracking micros. Turn the gun onto lock, flip it around and a sleek, shiny knife was hidden in the grip. The bullet I had fired off hit center mark and I grinned.

A voice came over the speaker then, “Will Agent Charlotte Day report to the Director’s office,” Maulve’s voice called, sounding much like a summons to the principal’s office in high school. If I hadn’t been asked to come in early because there was something the Director wanted to discuss with me, I might have been shaking in my boots. I was often a child called into the principal’s office back in the day. I was hoping those days were over. I took off my protective goggles and handed them to one of the agents in charge of our armory and followed my orders.


Calem -

I guess I should begin with my name; that’s where most people start, usually. It’s Calem Knight. Sometimes, I wished it wasn’t for reasons that I keep mainly to myself. I happened to live in the penthouse that was left in my sole inheritance when my parents were both killed simultaneously in a car crash. I had been eight at the time, which allowed me to very well remember who they were as people, and of course—their deaths. I remembered it, in fact, like yesterday.

My mother and father were going on another one of their business trips—at the time I knew nothing of the “business” they had worked for, until I reached the age of sixteen. My mother, Fiona, had been a kind woman, who kept her golden brown hair, the hair which I inherited as well, neatly pulled back most of the time; I remembered she would talk in this most soft voice, and she would hum songs while in the kitchen.

My father, Laurent, was the stern figure and rarely talked to me—sometimes I thought he didn’t care for me at all, regardless of what my mother insisted on telling me at night, when she would tuck me into my bed, telling me goodnight. My father never did. Yet, I still loved him then…Now, I was no longer sure. But I missed my mother; I missed the times we shared that brought me happiness in moments, but the happiness never stayed. There was always the gaping void inside me, eating me alive. My nonchalant behavior though fooled everyone: everyone except Winfrey, our butler of thirty something years, before I had even been thought of…It was like he could read my soul or something. It was scary.

“It’s because sir Calem, I diapered you—that’s why,” he would say.

And there was one important thing about me above all else: I liked to keep to myself. In fact, I would rather be alone. I hated people. People took my parents away. My future away.

I did whatever the hell I pleased and no one could tell me differently. I was twenty-one after all. So anyone else could royally piss off.

And did I forget to mention, I had to find out what my parents truly were—secret agents of a clandestine supernatural faction known as The Nova Force, from Winfrey of all people. After they were dead, of course. And now fast-forward five years from first finding out about The Nova Force, I now too called myself an agent, and I was the best. There was no disputing that. It was a fact. And that was that.

Somber sunlight sleepily shafted through my window, I knew, because I felt it begin to warm first my eyes, then my face. Suddenly, I heard my alarm clock go off, buzzing excruciating loudly—the worse sound, especially since I had a hangover. I groaned, flinging an arm blindly astray to silence it, when I realized I had to f’ing pee anyway. So I threw off the sateen bed sheets, my eyes fluttering open. I checked the time: 9:45. Dear god, no wonder I felt so awful. I slowly stood from my comfy king bed and since I slept naked, I grabbed the blue robe hanging off a bedpost, yawning, before I left my room to go shower.

I returned to my room only to dress. I slipped on some dark jeans and a simple white V-neck, before approaching the ancient vanity in my room. My unrelenting stare brought back memories of my Dad: we had the same dark blue eyes. And beneath these eyes were similar dark circles. I was still exhausted. But I had work today, no matter what. While putting on my leather clasps about my wrists that laid on the wooden piece, the sounds of Pantheon City traffic arose distantly from below.

I cast a glance to the sweeping windows that expanded across the entirety of the east wall, allowing for an incredible view of the cityscape and right now, the sunrise, which flooded brilliant fiery light into my room; it looked as if everything was completely afire. Lastly, I lifted from its place on the wood, my chain necklace, that bore the one gift I cherished more than any other, that my mother had given me—a key. The key was bronze and styled in a Victorian manner with such an elaborate, foliate design. She had told me I would need it someday and when I had asked her what it unlocked, she had only told me: I would know when the time was right.

I had spent all my years after that attempting to figure out her puzzling riddle, and still to no avail. If my mother knew I would need it one of these days, I supposed that would have to be good enough, for now at least.

“Good morning Master Knight,” Winfrey said to me at the bottom of the spiral stairs I descended.

I sighed, staring down at the elderly man dressed always in a dark suit. “How many times do I have to tell you,” I told him, frank, when reaching the last step, “to just call me Calem. It’s my name…Not Master this…And sir that.”

“Now see here, Master Knight,” he went on, his old world accent breaking though more prominently, “since I was a lad, and my sire, and his before him: we all were raised to address this family properly, and as you remain to be part of it—I shall continue.”

“Fine,” I said rolling my eyes. I noticed, though, thathe was carrying an apple in one of his large hands. Winfrey was a tall man. We were in fact the same height, almost. But where he had broad shoulders, I was slender. “What’s the apple for?”

“Breakfast, sir?” he said, offering to me.

“Sure, thanks,” I told him, taking it and chopping a bite into it, surprised by how hungry I was.

Winfrey then turned from me and removed my black leather jacket from the mounted rack upon the gray wall. “Require your jacket today sir? I do suggest it, since there’s quite the morning chill.”

I nodded and I raised my free arm as he fitted the sleeve through from behind me; I switched the apple to the other hand, continuing to eat as he finished putting the coat onto me—I couldn’t even do this simple of an action without his “required” assistance.

“When do you expect to be in, Master Knight?” he asked me, and I shrugged.

“Dunno,” I said. “Hopefully, not too late.”

“That, I can agree with sir—for I worry about you.”

“Yes, I know,” I told him. “You’re the only family I have left Winfrey.”

I turned to him, and I saw his eyes were watery as he grinned widely. “It is good to hear that from you Master Knight…Now off you go. And do be careful.”

“Right, right,” I said, waving an arm, and then headed to the second flight of stairs to the elevator, and eventually out of the skyscraper known as the Iron Spire.

The train reverberated, the walls shuddering every so often with the turbulence of its fast speed. Sunlight passed through the arched window in snatches, casting the thousands of dust particles before my eyes into visibility. My mind had been clouded in thought as I stared out to blurred scenery of wispy golden fields as far as the eye could see; it was astounding really. How much empty space surrounded you here. It was an endless sea of gold and the occasional rolling hills and mountains in the far distance.

Both Nova agents, such as myself, and common people rode the train, which was transportation from our headquarters and to Pantheon City, however, only we could have access to what we called the Invisible Car. A technological advancement not released to the public purposefully, provides the illusion that we’re not even there. There were a few other Nova agents on board with me today, some considerably older than me in different seats: the closest was a bearded middle-aged man, who was wearing black sunglasses. I spoke to none of them though; had no real reason to. What would today be like? Another mindless Ghost Simulation? If I had to go through another one of those, I would attempt suicide. It was absolute a waste of time…Albeit the Director thought otherwise.

“If you want to be the absolute best, then you’ll follow my orders. Understand?” her annoyingly sharp voice perforated my memory.

Agent Knight?” an abrupt deep voice brought me out of my strange reverie. I nearly jumped, but kept my cool. My eyes traveled to the darkly suited, clean-shaven man who stood beside my seat. His face was intensely tight, the standard glinting sunglasses covering his eyes.

“Yes?” I said, my brow rising.

“My name is Guard Salivan. You have been issued an urgent notice from the Director herself,” he said, with a flat uninterested voice. “I was told to give this to you. You’re expected in her office, promptly upon arrival.”

He handed me a thin metallic rectangular device with a centered black screen. Curious, I pressed the only circular black button next to the screen in the bottom right corner. There was a bright blue flash and the screen came to life, and with it—Director Maulve’s striking face. Her skin was pale and so were her green eyes that bore into mine; curly brown hair framed her oval face that was beaming up at me.

“Good morning, Agent Knight,” her recording spoke up to me, as she flashed her overly white grin. “I hope this recorded memo finds you well—You are most likely aboard the Nova Train, nearing headquarters as I speak. Therefore, I’m going to inform you that, upon your arrival you will be escorted to my office, for a purpose that is most imperative. I will brief you on the absolute urgent matter there. That is all. See you soon.”

The screen blipped before completely blacking out once more. The crony, that was what I called Maulve’s minutemen, her Guards—or cronies—took the memo device from me, and quickly disappeared without a word. My forehead furrowed in confusion.

What in the world could this absolute urgent matter be?

The elevator dinged when we—the same crony on the train, and another one, who was taller and burly, one standing each beside me—reached the floor where I supposed the Director’s office to be. Sure, I had seen her in person, but I had never visited her office…In fact no one was allowed to unless invited by Maulve herself.

“Right this way, agent,” Guard Salivan said, smirking, and I followed them—stuck in a crony sandwich—down the bright white hallway lit by fluorescent panels above. Their footsteps echoed more than mine, so much so, it had become aggravating—the hard clacking. Especially, since my hangover still somewhat lingered on inside my brain.

We stopped at a random place alongside the white wall and, wondering, I watched as Guard Salivan placed his hand on the blue sign that read the hall number: H31. There was a startling flash of red light as his hand was scanned for a few minutes, and then an unseen woman’s voice that said: “Password please.”

“Excelsior Magnum Opus.”

The white wall suddenly became alive and began to shift to the right, revealing a hidden black paneled door. I swallowed and looked to Guard Salivan, who nodded at me. “In we go,” he said. “The Director does not like to be kept waiting.”

Well, that was nothing new. The door automatically opened as we stepped forth and into the unknown chamber. The inside of Director Maulve’s quarters was equally white, however, there was an expansive window to our left that let in the golden sunlight which spilled out onto the mass bouquets of vivid purple flowers, with a nearly overwhelming potency. I stifled a cough, as I turned to take in the rest of the office, and then I saw Maulve herself, sitting behind her modern black desk, in a high-back lavishly embossed chair. I had never been this close to her in all my life.

I noticed how translucent her skin appeared, it was nearly unnatural; it looked so frail, likea fragile crinkle of paper, one simple press and it would be shattered.Though she couldn’t be any more than in her late thirties,her skin and almond-shaped eyes gave her the impression of being much older. What surprised me more though was seeing that,in front of her, was another agent like myself,guessing bywhat she wore: the girl was tall and willowy, with long flowing hair so blonde in the sunlight, it was nearly the shade of platinum. She had her eyes focused on the Director, yet when we had walked in I noticed for a split-second she had looked suspiciously at me. Barely could I see freckles emerging from around her slender nose, fading out into rosy cheeks.

Our eyes—hers wide and gleaming—met only for a moment, before she the Director immediately occupied her attention again, a firm line setting into her full red lips as she turned her head away. She was stunning, and I couldn’t avert my eyes any further, not even to really notice her own guards nearby. She must have received a similar message, I figured.

The mystery agent girl was dressed in casual clothing: tight black leather pants and a matchingblack jacket as well. It looked really good on her…Really good. Who was she? I had never seen her before, and I thought I had saw mostly everyone in this stockpile. I shook my head incredulous.

“Now then,” the jarring voice of the Director caused me to look at her, flustered, “I am happy to see that both you—Agent Calem and you miss Agent Charlotte have made it on time to my meeting.” I blinked, realizing how odd it was when she spoke; it was like her mouth barely moved. It was incredible. A talent, really. Who could do that?

Her long spindly arms that jangled of black bracelets to match her business suit rose, and her hands templed together. “Guards,” she said, with a small smile, “you may leave us…Thank you for your services.”

Once they left us wordlessly, she extended one of those long arms to the brace of black metallic chairs before her desk. “Please do sit,” she said, kindly, “we have much to discuss…But oh before you do—I’d like you both to know that most likely neither of youknow the other, for you were purposely placed in different training pods, but that will change of course, as of now—you become inseparable…As it is ordered by me…That the both of you will be partners together on the mission I’m about to brief you both on.”

My mouth nearly fell open at the sound of that one word. Partners.

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