godpool

[godpool]

Faults in the face of the night

A small vent piece I wrote to purge some of my emo angst :p

A mop of black unruly hair tumbled over the legs of the girl huddled beside the window, her knees tucked up into her chest. Her hair was a mess of heavily defined coils, the last remnants of a three-day hairstyle before it was to be washed away and set into braids once more.

The room was dark and barely illuminated the figure opposite her, Aithen, a relatively recent addition to their family. Aithen sat fairly close to her, their long gangly legs crossed beneath them. Their light brown skin appeared almost black in the darkness, the tattoos branding across their neck showing only faintly through the dim lighting.

Aithen kept their gaze steady on her, speaking up only once the girl’s sniffling had died down. “Meera?”

Their eyes followed Meera’s hand as it crept along the carpet, her fingers tentatively tapping the area around her until Aithen pushed the tissue box into her grasp. Meera pulled out two tissues, her hair rippling against her legs as she lifted her head. The faint moonlight from the window exposing her puffy and bloodshot eyes as she blew her nose.

“You ready to talk?”

Meera scrunched up her face as she cleaned herself, disposing of the tissues on the floor beside her. She opened her mouth, freeing a short, aborted sound before halting. Meera stayed silent for a few moments, her head tilted as she tried to articulate the thoughts floating around in her mind.

“I don’t-�� Meera sighed, her shoulders caved in.

Aithen patiently waited, their eyes drawn to her swollen lip. Their heightened vision picked up on the faint teeth marks in the soft flesh. Their mind whizzed, streams of data flowing from this piece of information. Questions were at the tip of their tongue. Do you often bite your lip? Have you ever engaged in any other kind of self-injurious behaviour? Have you ever considered taking your own life? From 1-10, how at risk do you think you are?

“I spent all day reading,” Meera began, gesturing to the book lying on her bedside table. “I didn’t even know what it was about at first. It’s been a long time since I’ve put the book on my shelf and I didn’t bother to read the blurb.

It was a thriller about a woman and her troubles with an abusive boyfriend, resulting in her developing crippling PTSD and OCD. It eventually ends with her marrying a bloke who’s head over heels for her and a new set of decent friends,” Meera trailed off. She raised up her hand to scratch her cheek, trying to ignore Aithen’s gaze.

“I couldn’t help-” Meera roughly ran her hands down her skull and over her face. “It crept up on me, the loneliness. There’d be little pangs of it every now and then but then it just hit me once it was all over.”

“What exactly?”

“Despite all that’s wrong with her, she still found people to love her.”

Aithen watched as Meera turned away to face outside, her face a few centimetres away from the sheer curtain blanketing the window. They could see the ball of her jaw clenching as tears built up in her eyes. Aithen comfortingly pressed their foot against Meera’s, giving her a tentative smile when she threw them a glance.

“It’s so pathetic. I know! It’s just a book! It’s- It’s sheer fiction that indulges in a happily ever after for a tormented fictitious character, and yet I’m jealous.” Meera looked down as she wiped away the tears trickling down her cheeks, her voice wobbling. “I just... I want that love. I want that love and care from someone.”

The two fell silent at that. Aithen looked blankly at the carpet, realising their gaze had been far too intense for the last 10 minutes. The room was quiet, quiet enough to hear their neighbour slowly opening their backyard door and gently shutting it, soon followed by the sound of a cat leaping off the fence and into that very backyard. The gentle outdoor breeze accompanying their soft, synchronised breaths.

“It’s just not in my genes, I guess.”

Aithen’s gaze flickered upwards at Meera’s one-shouldered shrug, their eyebrows clinched as they pondered this.

Meera smiled sadly, gesturing her head towards the far wall of her room, only a few meters up and away from the living room. “I don’t exactly have a history of people giving a shit about me.”

Aithen scoffed and opened their mouth to speak when Meera interjected. “But don’t you get it? It’s more probable that something is fundamentally wrong with me rather than all the thousands of people I’ve met. I’m not arrogant enough to believe the problem lies with everyone else instead of myself.”

“And what exactly is it? This… perceived defect,” Aithen articulated slowly.

Meera snorted, “fuck if I know.” She turned back and continued to gaze outside, studying the immense sky above her. The blue-black blanket above their planet was littered with an abundance of stars and celestial objects, beautiful whites and reds and blues, orbiting around in their solar system.

“I’m here and I love you, whether or not you believe me.”

Meera continued to look skyward. “If only that meant something.”

Footsteps echoed up towards the second floor, causing Meera to tense. A flat voice followed as the footsteps continued to ascend. “Meera? Where’s Aithen?”

Her bedroom was at the end of the hallway, giving Meera precious seconds to regroup herself. She frantically wiped away at her face with the sleeves of her shirt, the rough fabric scraping at her sensitive skin. Meera picked up her work tablet and opened the last application that was in use, the video streaming service MindShare. The screen emitted a pale yellow light, the illumination reflecting against Aithen’s black eyes.

Meera never took her gaze away from the screen as she addressed Aithen, her finger scrolling through the videos in her feed. “Terminate all the recordings, psychological evaluations and documents associated with me created within the last hour.”

Aithen’s black irises abruptly shone a brilliant white light at Meera’s command, their pupils contracting to the size of a needle point. The illumination lasted only a split second, revealing the disarray of Meera’s room, the stray clothes lying in the corners, along with various discarded tissues. “Completed,” Aithen said. The room fell into blackness once more.

Then, a small yet thick figure strode into the room, taken aback momentarily at the darkness before flicking the overhead lights on. The girl standing in the doorway hesitated, her eyes lingering on Meera’s raw face. The two girls bore similarities, their equally black-brown eyes, their full lips, their petite yet flat noses, all easily identifying them as sisters.

She remained still as she regarded Meera, a small furrow forming between her freshly sculpted brows. Her mouth was open as if she was on the verge of saying something important before she decided against it. She turned her gaze to Aithen instead. “Send the reports of Ya’ng Wint to my projector and set up the conference call in ten minutes,” she said before leaving the room.

Aithen’s eyes lit once more as they stood up in one swift move, making sure to turn off the lights as they followed her out of Meera’s room.

Meera startled at the harsh noise of the door closing, trying to force her muscles to loosen and her mind to be at ease. One breath in, one breath out. One breath in, one breath out. Over and over, Meera envisioned her exhales gushing out of her body and wisping through the netting of the window, diffusing into the open air. Floating beside and melding with the air breathed by those past and present, those who’ve lost and yet lived.

Through the sheer curtains and the black of the night, the stars and balls of planets up above looked infinitesimally brighter. As if beckoning her closer.

[godpool]

have a little vent-y piece for you guys that I’ll be posting sometime this week so look out for that

[godpool]

Rainfall and Sparks

A story following two partners on the last few legs of their mission.

“Laet, I’m going to the gas station,” Evan said as she walked out of the bathroom.

The room was brightly illuminated by the lamps sitting on both sides of the bedside table. Their soft yellow glow casting warmth into the drab grey interior of the hotel room, forming shadows on her companion’s face.

“It’s going to rain soon. Here,” Laet procured a small black umbrella from her travel bag, “take this.”

Evan accepted the umbrella with a small kiss, her long pale body hidden within her oversized sweatpants and jumper. She stood in the centre of the room, overlooking Laet. Her keys and trinkets jingling as she fiddled around in her pocket. “I’ll be on the intercom,” she said as she moved her reddy-brown hair out of her eyes, exposing her thick unkempt eyebrows.

Laet rolled her eyes as she continued to ruffle through her bag. “Could you stop using my underwear? You have your own,” she complained.

“Buy your own,” she shouted as Evan stepped out into the hallway, the sound of her footsteps lessening as the door clicked behind her. The corners of Laet’s mouth twitched upwards.

The room was quiet for only a second before it was awash with the rampant sounds of the daily life of eastern Verde. The sounds of cars aching on past through the peak hour traffic, the abrupt beeping of impatient drivers in the distance and the chirping and cawing of birds milling about in the trees brushing against the open windows.

Laet inhaled deeply as the fresh, earthy air outside seeped into the room. The breeze was cool and kind against her flushed skin. Twisting her mouth, Laet picked up the intercom lying beside her thigh and played with the buttons until came forth the familiar mix of different ringing tones meshed together.

Biiiiiiip… Briiiiiiing…

“Routing your call,” a mechanical voice intoned. Then silence.

“Uhhh, Agent Jugshit in the clear, over,” somebody staggered out. It was an impressive imitation of their coworker back home, Agent Dennis.

A husky voice could be heard on the other side of the intercom, his voice accompanied by the repeated clicking of a keyboard. “Oh shut up, Evan. You couldn’t be me even if you wanted,” Dennis snarked.

A different man snorted and soon, conversation was booming as her coworkers mercilessly teased each other. The two men on the line, Agents Dennis and Isaiah, were monitoring their target’s location all the way back from their home base in Lokaus.

The bickering of her companions faded into background noise as Laet continued to organise her garb for the night ahead. For when they would be called to approach and subdue Simon Kousch, a government operative that went rogue. Paid the Lokaus government's benevolence back with theft.

Laet spent hours on her flight over to Verde imagining what the Golden Eagle could be, and why its retrieval was so vital. Potentially a hard drive containing undisclosed files and unsanctioned cases, Laet mused. Cases like this one, perhaps?

She stood up and sat on the bed, bringing a small audio recorder onto her lap as she untangled its wires. Then again, does it even matter? “Evan, are you there y-?” She was interrupted by the ringing of a store entrance.

“Yeah, I’ve just entered the servo now, actually,” Evan replied distractedly.

There was a lull in the conversation. Laet itched the base of her scalp as she picked up a minuscule brown brick lying beside her clothes. It felt solid and heavy in her grasp, the ridges on its side helping her grip the device with ease. Laet lifted it higher and looked at its curved tip, the rounded glossy edge reflecting her brown face.

She methodically tightened her fingers around the device. A strong buzzing sound erupted from it, causing sparks of brown light to come from within its glossy black tip. Her hand shook from the vibration. She put it down, satisfied. “Just testing the brick,” Laet murmured.

Isaiah hummed in response.

Soon, the crinkling of plastic rang through the intercom. Dennis and Isaiah collectively sighed.

Evan clicked her tongue. “Listen, you signed up for this,” she said. The crinkling intensified. “You knew that working at The Warehouse meant that you could no longer have deliciously sour and savoury junk,” she drawled out, her grin practically transparent through the call.

“Sucks,” Laet said. “How about you get me some sour cream and chives and,” she said dragging the last word, “some Starbursts.”

“The big packet?” said Evan.

Laet scoffed. “When is it not?”

Dennis sighed once more. “Must be nice,” he said glumly.

Laet smiled, able to perfectly envision the sad, gloomy look in Dennis’ eyes as he said that. His elbow resting on the black bench with his palm smooshed into his cheek, his youthful brown skin making the sight all the more pitiful. They could hear Isaiah patting Dennis on the back and Laet rolled her eyes.

The clicking of a mouse rang through as Isaiah spoke up. “We have new intel for you.”

“Our overlords bless us,” Laet deadpanned.

Isaiah continued, “Simon’s at —and make sure you write this down—”

“Give me a second,” Evan muttered. “Alright, shoot.”

“The Hilltop Marquee up in Lower East, room 22 on the fourth floor. You got that down?”

Evan hummed.

Laet frowned. “Marquee?”

“It's a historical thing, I guess,” Dennis said.

“Why now?” Evan’s voice was faint, overshadowed by the tittering and chatter of women near her. They waited as Evan exchanged a few words with somebody before continuing on her way, the ringing of the store door behind her as she stepped back onto the roadside pavement towards their hotel.

“He's in contact with another high-level target,” Isaiah said.

“And that's a bad thing,” Dennis interjected. “You need to subdue Simon this nightfall, as planned.”

Laet picked up a light brown knife and rested it on her forearm, the blade tip near the crook of her elbow. The knife blended in well with her caramel skin, with only the serrated edge glinting.

“I'll send you the digitised perimeter of the area,” Isaiah said.

Laet removed the knife from her arm and leant over the bed, her fingers searching for a thin laptop just underneath. She grasped it and positioned herself back on the bed, the laptop already logged in.

The cursor began to move across the screen without her control and opened an application. It was an animated live feed of outside of the Hotel Marquee. The graphics were limited, comprising primarily of black line drawings and small red circles indicating civilians and hotel staff.

Laet zoomed into the hotel and clicked onto the entrance door of the hotel. The application adjusted itself so that the entirety of the first floor was in frame on the screen. Laet leaned towards the monitor as she scanned the screen. “Would I be foolish to assume that Simon’s indicator is distinct from the non-targets?”

“Yes,” Isaiah affirmed. “His is a yellow star one-point-seven times larger than the other indicators.”

“He's not currently there, but we have eyes on him,” Dennis said. “We expect him to be back later this evening.”

Laet clicked the toolbar up top of the application and the live feed changed to focus onto that of the second floor. Her mouth was pursed as she watched two small red circles walking down a hallway and into what she assumed to be a closet, their indicators coming so close together they almost appeared to merge into one. “He's in for a world of hurt tonight,” Laet muttered.

“That he definitely is,” Evan said softly.

Silence fell once more on the intercom.

The rain was not ideal. The sun had long gone past the horizon, leaving only dark blue skies blanketing above them. Harsh winds pelted raindrops against the sides of their face, the seeping chill of the rain distracting the women. But this was what they’d been working towards for months. They were tougher than smack of the raindrops, or the biting sting of the wind against their fingers and eyes.

The gravel below them gleamed with water and mud, their footsteps creating small splashes as Evan and Laet slunk towards the rear of the Hilltop Marquee. They inched towards the back, warily eyeing the small cliff adjacent to the hotel that leads down to a murky abyss.

This side of the hotel was empty. There were a few lights embedded in the wall barely illuminating the small stone steps underneath various grey doors. There were dozens of small balconies peering towards the sea overhead. Their intricate spiral design almost lost in the darkness.

Laet adjusted the cuffs on her glove before walking towards the building, raising her head as she regarded the balcony above her. They were fairly high above ground, almost double the height of Evan. “Anybody in there?” Laet asked. “We’re looking at the second floor, room 4.”

There was a brief pause of static on the intercom before Isaiah responded. His voice was clipped. “All clear.”

Evan cracked and released the pressure in her knuckles before bending her knees, jumping high into the air before grabbing the railing. Her arms were pressed flush against her body as she held herself up with only her hands, her feet finding anchorage on the balcony floor before throwing a leg and manoeuvring herself over it onto both feet.

Laet followed suit and jumped after her, her right hand slipping on the slick metal railing. She immediately grabbed at the horizontal bar underneath the top railing, gritting her teeth as her hand began slipping once more. Her left hand tightened in place as she swung her feet beneath her, using the momentum to heave her feet right at the edge of the balcony. Tightening her grip once more, Laet hauled herself upright until both hands were clutching the rail and threw herself over.

Evan simply tilted her head as Laet faced, causing Laet to flush. Those farting gloves.

Laet opened her mouth to speak before coming to a halt as Evan pulled down the lip of her scarf and wiped away at the trickle of snot slinking down and pooling into her philtrum. “You’re disgusting,” Laet grimaced before looking inside the room through the glass balcony door.

As she moved away from the direct wind and rainfall, Laet noticed the slight static in the intercom. “Isaiah? Can you still hear me?”

The time it took until Isaiah next spoke was uncomfortably long. “Yeah, I can. The system is getting a bit garbled, so bear with me.”

“Is the third floor clear, either room 10 or 11?” Evan asked as she played with the straps of her backpack crisscrossing over her stomach.

The static continued as Isaiah’s voice peeked through, unusually small. “All clear.”

The two followed each other upwards, angling their body over the edge of the hotel as they stood atop the balcony. They climbed onto the third floor, using the horizontal rails to inch upwards, their feet dangling freely in the air.

The two were grinning as they twisted themselves over the railing and onto solid ground. “That was some straight up spy shit,” Evan laughed.

Laet playfully nudged at her before resting her backside on the railing, asking once more: “Fourth floor, room 25?”

“Negative. Go to room 24,” Isaiah replied, his voice warbling in and out.

The static then went out, along with sound completely on the intercom. Evan and Laet looked at each other, their eyes wide at the silence in their ear. Laet lifted up the edge of her beanie and tapped at the intercom, half expecting it to turn back on.

Evan knelt down and unclasped the buckles of her backpack and placed it on a section of dry pavement. She opened the smallest zipper in the front and withdrew a small mobile-like device, then stuck her intercom into a small output parallel to the screen. The screen came alit, displaying various numbers and symbols.

“What’s wrong with it?” Laet asked as she peered towards the ground, keeping guard. She whipped her head as light shone through the curtains of the room to their left, room 26.

Evan’s fingers continued sliding on the screen, her gaze briefly flickering to the room now alive with people. “I don’t know,” Evan said slowly.

The hair on Laet’s arms stood up at that. Technology was not an area she excelled at or had any desire to, preferring to leave that to the others while she focused on the more physical nature of her job. But it was during times like this that Laet wished she’d bit the bullet and learnt all she could about the equipment she would be using. This time I swear I’ll actually do it, Laet promised.

Evan soon retracted the intercom from the device and placed it snugly back into her ear. She returned the device and took out a small tablet in its place, quickly readjusting the backpack around her body. “It’s out for good,” Evan said. “I can’t connect back to the base.”

“We don’t even know what we’re looking for!” Laet said in a hushed whisper. “Shit!” She pictured herself kicking her foot in frustration, imagining the painful vibration reverberating up her leg and into her hip, hearing the sole of her boot grating against pavement. She kept still.

“We’re going to have to go on without them.” Evan fiddled around with the tablet until the live feed of the hotel was on the display. “Gotta jump the next two balconies to get to Simon.” Evan strode to the end of the balcony and gestured forward. “We’ll capture him and transport him to a safe location until we can contact  The Warehouse.”

Laet wrapped a hand above Evan’s elbow as she started making her way over the railing. “This is not a good idea, we can’t just go off script-” Laet hesitated as Evan gave her a look, her hand slowly sliding off, “-not to this degree. The extraneous variables are off the charts.”

Evan lowered her scarf and sighed, a small cloud of warm air rising between them. She stepped closer, her eyes beseeching for Laet to reason. “We’ve had to abort missions so many times, Laet, this will get us fucking nixed. We can’t let him escape again, they’ll ruin us.”

“So what are we going to do once we’ve gotten him? What then?”

“We’ll improvise, just like we’ve been taught to.”

Laet remained silent, her eyes trained heavily on the other woman’s. She could hear the sound of an emergency vehicle wailing past the hotel and down the street, along with the crashing of the waves nearby. She pressed her lips together, rolling it before stepping back. “Okay,” she murmured.

Nodding, Evan lowered her scarf further and placed the tablet between her lips, stepping over the fence and onto to the edge of the balcony. The balcony of room 24 was about five meters away, not absurdly far at all, giving Evan all the more assurance to leap over with Laet following behind. The rushing of the wind masked their presence.

The doors of this balcony were closed yet the transparent curtains revealed the happenings inside. Laet spared them a glance, finding an older man and woman dancing together at the foot of their bed, the soft hum of instrumentals wafting out from the room. Evan and Laet didn’t bother crouching as they passed the wide doors, knowing that the intensity of the light inside the room would conceal them against the darkness of the night.

They were soon huddled at the balcony door of room 22, the gritty wall flush against their backs. Evan held the tablet as she glanced at the screen once more, her brows coming together at the star indicator’s sporadic movement on the live feed.

The blinds were closed, but again this meant little as the light from Simon’s quarters spilt out across the balcony, leaving two triangular slivers of darkness. Evan peeked into the room and saw a man, Simon, hunched over at the side of his bed. “He’s got his back turned,” she whispered. Evan gestured her head towards the other side of the door and waited as Laet got into position.

She looked once more inside to make sure Simon was not facing them, and when clear, stood up from her crouch to reach for the handle, opening the door just a fraction. The two women stared inside as he got up off the floor and shoved a vintage mobile phone into the backpack he was clutching. This continued for many minutes, with Evan and Laet readying to enter the room only for Simon to face the balcony.

Finally, as Simon’s bag was filling up and the room became emptier, Simon ducked down underneath the computer desk and started meticulously rooting around in the rubbish can.

Evan swung the door open, the hinges of the door easing along, allowing Laet slip in unnoticed. Evan kept silent as the static on the intercom suddenly returned, albeit almost mute, watching as Laet stalked up to Simon. She closed the door behind herself, the soft thudding of the door causing him to turn and fall onto his backside in alarm.

Laet kicked the underside of his jaw before he could register, sending him to the floor clutching his face. “Argh!” he groaned, before twisting left of Laet’s lunge, quickly getting onto his feet.

A smiling Evan greeted him with a sweep of the legs, causing him to stumble back onto the bed. As Evan approached him, he kicked out his legs and slammed into her torso before rolling over to the other side of the bed, only to find himself flanked. Laet was scowling as she faced him, her fingers twitching on the grip of her small brown brick.

Simon felt Laet kick his groin, leaving him to clutch at the metal cup between his thighs for only a second. So much for being prepared, he berated himself. He could see her eyebrows raising in surprise before she smacked the side of his head, leaving him disoriented.

Fingers gripped at his loose turquoise t-shirt from behind, digging painfully into the soft flesh of his neck as he was pushed back on the bed. Laet quickly straddles his thighs, restraining his movement, a stony expression on her face.

Simon gazed wretchedly into her eyes as Laet forcefully pressed the brick into his chest and squeezed the grip, watching detachedly as the glossy tip came to life, sending powerful sparks into his body. His body twitched violently underneath her but Laet kept the sparks going, stopping only when Simon fell unconscious.

Laet retracted her grip and glanced up at Evan. “Live feed?” As she was sliding off his limp body, the intercom in both their ears ringing static at a lower pitch.

They both whipped their gazes to each other as the volume of the static descended and eventually Isaiah’s voice penetrated through. “-....Agents, come in. Can you hear me?”

“Yes! Yes, we can hear you,” Evan responded immediately, relief plastered over her face.

Laet pulled off her scarf and parka, the heat of the room slowly suffocating her. “We’ve subdued Simon, and we’re in the clear,” she said. “We need to know what we’re looking for, buddy.”

Isaiah was furiously clicking away on his keyboard, “you’re looking for three small gold balls.”

“Real small,” a foreign voice piped in.

Laet and Evan exchanged a confused look.

“They’re identical, golden balls that have irregular spiralled edges,” Isaiah said.

Evan began digging through his backpack, gingerly taking out Simon’s clothing and inspecting it. Laet focused her attention on Simon, patting him down before removing his clothing.

“Who would’ve guessed,” Laet said softly.

Evan’s eyes flickered to Laet, keeping silent.

The two continued on for a while, with Evan filling in Isaiah and the foreign voice, a lady called Maria, on the happenings during their disconnect, watching as Laet grew frustrated as she finished her search on Simon. Laet eventually moved onto checking the bathroom for the Golde- balls, when Evan looked over Simon’s body once more. His t-shirt was bunched into a ball nesting in the crook of his neck along with his mismatching socks, his belt buckle not yet re-clasped.

The pads of Evan’s fingers ghosted across Simon’s torso, searching for any irregular protrusions. Her fingers inched up his pectoral muscle, her index finger ghosting over the indent of his armpit. A slight bump.

Evan kept her finger still as she marked the area with a waterproof marker from her backpack. She could hear the hollow thud of the toilet seat falling down and its following clink as Laet repositioned it back up. Didn’t think it’d play out like this, she thought grimly as she bent over and unsheathed a syringe on her calf.

She breathed in deeply, drowning her thoughts out with white noise as she turned around and stalked towards Laet.

It was early morning by the time Laet came to, judging by the pale blue sunlight streaming into the room. She tried to turn around but was stopped by a sharp, stinging pain on the side of her neck. Laet lifted her head and tentatively touched the source of the pain, surprised when her fingers come back free of blood.

Every muscle in her body was cramping as Laet blearily threw her legs over the side of the bed, and groggily took in the cold tray of food before her. Beside her feet lay her weapons and a busted recorder rested upon her parka and scarf. That’s when it all came rushing back to her.  

Simon. The Golden Eagle. Evan.

Evan.

Laet jumped up and grabbed her serrated knife, cautiously surveying the hotel room. Empty. Just… cold empty rooms. The tiles were cold underfoot as Laet stepped into the bathroom, noticing the lack of toiletries or mess near the sink. All the cupboards were empty. The floor was clean and nothing was left underneath the bed.

She swallowed painfully as her fingertips eased around the sliding door of the wardrobe. Her heart was in her throat for a single second at the brief glimpse of something in the wardrobe. Yet that something turned out to simply be coat racks and their corresponding plastic jackets.

It was then that it really sunk in. Laet kicked the door in frustration, refusing to acknowledge the hurt encompassing her.

She could feel her skin itching underneath her sweaty clothes, eager to tear apart her own skin. Despairing thoughts desperately trying to squeeze out of her tear ducts and onto the mess she was stuck in. Instead, Laet untied the messy bun holding her permed hair, ignoring her sick desire to pull at the strands until they fall loose, and pulled it into a taut ponytail. Don’t lose it.

Laet turned around to eye the meal on the table. The adrenaline she initially felt was waning so all she could do was stare at the tray of food before her. It was was a small dish of fūl - Evan’s favourite food. Said it reminded her of home, of better days- paired with Lebanese bread and small saucers of dips, one of which she knew was hummus.

What stole her attention, however, was a small piece of paper isolated on the far side of the tray. She would recognise that scrawny writing even on her deathbed. That brought her pause.

Laetti,

I’m sorry. 

446 350 846 090

Growling, Laet scrunched up the paper and rocketed it towards the bin. Her lip curled as the sheet twirled around above the bin before gliding to the floor, meters away from the bin.

She fell onto the bed, her hands covering her face. Betrayal radiated from her chest and coursed through her body, turning hurt into anger, anger back into hurt, and hurt into numbness.

She lay like that for some time. The light outside intensifying and casting a golden glow into the room, memories of the last few months playing unbidden in her mind. Looking for signs that she missed.

Laet eventually roused from her detached state with an old familiarity, halfheartedly grasping at her bundle of stuff on the floor. After righting the equipment and concealing it underneath her clothes, Laet placed the intercom into her ear and dialled for The Warehouse.

Briiiiiiing…

Weird not hearing two dial tones.

“Routing your-,”

The Warehouse immediately connected to the call, cutting off the automated robot. “Agent Laet, please update us on the current events,” Dennis demanded.

Laet steeled her back but could not control the wavering of her brows, desperate to furrow. “Agent Evan is a threat. She incapacitated me last night as we were searching Simon’s hotel quarters. Both Simon and Agent Evan are unaccounted for, along with all his belongings and the Golden Eagle.”

She could hear Dennis, along with other members of their team cursing in the background.

“I’ll need an extraction team. I don’t know what she’s playing at, or if she’s working for somebody, what they’re working at. I’ll discuss things further when I get back. Just make sure I can see The Doctors as soon as possible,” Laet finished. She rubbed a hand over her face, the crusts in her eyes scraping at her skin and causing her to wince.

“Done,” Dennis said. His voice took on an odd lilt, laced heavily with concern, “what damage did you sustain?”

“She injected me with something that induced sleep extremely quickly. My neck is absolutely sore and I feel like I’ve fallen off a cliff onto a very unreceptive rock,” Laet said tiredly.

“Just get back to the airport, we’ll deal with everything else,” an unfamiliar young voice said. He sounded young, his both friendly and confident.

Laet frowned at the young man, unable to shake the feeling that nothing good awaited her back home at Lokaus. “Okay,” she said keeping her voice steady. “I’ll see you guys later.” Click.

With nothing left to do, Laet simply stared at the front door before moving to the side. She grabbed the scrunched up piece of paper lying on the floor and hid it inside the pocket of her parka, refusing to acknowledge the implications of what she was doing.

She quickly descended to the first floor, hiding her face from the lobby cameras as she left the hotel. The sun was high in the air and there was laughter and chattering amongst the small crowd. Laet prayed her heart would turn to stone as she walked alongside families, grieving a life she had lost before she could even experience it.

[godpool]

Hello ♡ This is my (very new) blog where I’ll be posting stories I’ve written that feature wlw/nonbinary main characters! I’d appreciate a reblog so the people can find a bit more of gay entertainment online :’) ily all