I'll Protect You (Original Version)

There's a Code:Red--and there's a Code:Zero.

I'm not usually an angry person. Inside of me is a large, dense bubble of happiness and acceptance. Sure, I may be cynical and sarcastic and just downright mean but I'm never depressed. My hands never curl up into fists each day after school nor do I cry myself to sleep at night. Crying is for wusses.

But here I was, sitting as straight as a wooden plank on a chair in one of the many living rooms of the palace, surrounded by a team of XYZ's agents, my eyes not daring to blink, my knuckles the color of snow as I dug my fingers into my palms, and a quivering anger inside of me.

It seems as if the youngest prince of Cimeria is late for dinner.

Those tiny, electronic words, typed by fingers, Verdana font, size eight, black. They floated in front of my eyes, swimming back and forth underneath my lashes as if taunting me.

How? Just how did they find out about him? This was top secret, undeniably confidential--the kind of information that I would take to my grave, and guard it with my ghost so even after my death, no one would know.

I looked up, and my eyes flickered over to Logan, who stood conversing by the windows with another agent. Their lips moved in a frenzy, their eyes looked hectic and fearful as their conversation continued. My lips trembled.

Logan, whether he was psychic or not, looked over, almost as if he could sense my chaotic ticking bomb of emotions. Instantly, he excused himself from the discussion and came over to sit by me. His hand placed themselves on top of mine, his fingers lacing themselves with my own. I was shivering. Park Sparrow was shivering.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," attempted Logan, as he stroked my hair back from my face. His words were soft and low, meant for my ears only. "We're going to find him. They're tracing the call and the text. Jasper will be back in no time."

No, he won't.

"He's the prince; everybody knows that. Even the citizens of Cimeria are probably out looking for him."

No, they don't.

"Park?"

I looked up slowly. It was like I had turned into a rusty old robot, whose gears and gadgets no longer functioned correctly.  Logan's eyes, normally filled with a look of  disdain, hatred, annoyance, or a brilliant gleam of something I could never place, were now...worried. Never before had I seen Logan worried.

Something pricked at the corner of my eye. I blinked. A teardrop rolled quickly down my cheek before dropping off at the bottom of my chin. And as quick as the wind, he pulled me into an embrace, whispering soothing words into my ear as he ushered me not to cry.

"Agent Six has arrived, please stand!" a grave voice announced. Logan quickly dropped his arm so he could stand up. Everyone else did the same thing, dropping everything they were in the midst of doing to place their hands behind their back and bow as one of the most famous agents came walking through the white double doors behind me.

Agent Six was a tall, slender man with broad shoulders that would put a famous male model to shame. He had black hair that gleamed like the feathers of a raven, combed back into his head. He was actually young, ranging around the age of my older brother, who was only twenty. 

I always hated Six. Not just because he always glared at me whenever I came to the agency to train,  or how he seemed to degrade me with each and every sentence. It was because his eyes gave me this incredibly Hair-On-The-Back-Of-The-Neck tingles.

The left eye was a clear blue while the right iris was green. A mutation in his genes. Or, the way I would put it, the consequence of having no soul and no heart and being an emotionless jackass towards everybody. To everyone around me, it was cool and intriguing and mysterious. But to me, it was like he had two sides to him, and I didn't like that though.