Spy School: Danger is my Middle Name

Thanos Snap 👌

---POV Switch to Agent Jayden---

Erica sent us to the mall.

The mall.

:)

She knew nothing about me. Throwing me into a mall, expecting me not to go check out the new Avengers release... she was surely crazy. And the food they have at the court is heavenly. How could I control myself?

Ben stepped on the front tiles of the entrance to the mall. "Jayden, before we go inside, I need to make something clear."

"Make what clear?" I said uneasily, picking at the door of the giant structure. "Please don't tell me it's about the thing you told me in the car."

Ben tapped his foot, expression turning serious. "I told you once, and unfortunately, I'm telling you again. We are not watching that movie while we're inside."

"But it's quick!" I complained.

"It's three hours," Ben pursed his lips. "We are NOT watching it, Jayden."

"You do what you want to do," I huffed, busting into the mall. "I'm buying tickets for two. If you're so dull and don't want to get some well-earned entertainment, then my money's going to waste."

Ben ran into the mall after me, placing a hard hand into my shoulder and stopping me mid-step. "No, you're not. You're coming with me."

I sighed. "Ben, Ben, Ben. You can barely beat Warren in a fight. Do you want to experiment your skills on me, or are you going to back down before things get out of hand?"

Ben smirked, whipping out a taser from his pocket. "Try me."

I backed away, beckoning my hands in surrender. "Let's talk about this," I said, accidentally bumping into someone behind me. "Sorry," I muttered, then walked back over to Ben, making sure to avoid his right hand, since that was where the taser was.

"Follow me," Ben said, pressing the butt of the taser onto my neck. The cold metal sent jerks of alertness into my body, despite the taser not even being on. I didn't want to know what it felt like if the thing actually sent its power into my skin. "Roger," I replied dutifully.

"Erica text me later in the car," Ben reminded me. "Our mission orders have changed. We're actually trying to track down a man in green clothes. According to Erica, he's planning to rob a store later tonight."

"Why is the mall even open this late?" I pondered, walking past multiple stores and taking jealous looks at the customers. "Ben, can we at least-"

"No," Ben pressed. "Follow me."

I slumped, sulking behind him and holding in the urge to check my phone. "Poop. I just want to do something entertaining."

"What we're doing is supposed to be entertaining," Ben replied. "It's just your view of 'entertaining' that's not fit for what we're doing at this moment."

"My view of 'entertaining' is watching that movie," I groaned. "Not being dragged around by you."

Ben sighed, letting go of my hand and pointing over to the ground beneath me. "At least stay here for a few minutes. I need to go locate the blue man, and with you around, I won't be able to do any work."

"Gee, thanks," I rolled my eyes. "I'll stay here. Gives me a chance to use my phone anyways."

Watching Ben walk away, I whipped out my phone, taking a quick glance at the time. It was about at 2 AM at this point, since we had been driving in the car for the past hour, and we spent the time from 10 PM to 12 eating at Olive Garden.

We didn't really mean to take long of a time to have dinner, but I managed to drag out excuses and jokes for long enough that Ben stayed. It wasn't until the bottom of the second hour that he realized my ploy. Since then, he had been lecturing me about 'making wise decisions' and 'how we're doing things to help the nation', not to mention 'our work is nothing to joke about.'

Nothing to joke about? Hello, have you ever heard of the punching bag? Clearly, the kid needed to learn some culture. My gang on the Wattpad comment section are having the time of our lives mocking that kid. He doesn't even deserve to be with us anyway.

After briefly checking Instagram, my phone buzzed with a text of warning from Chloe. It was in the group chat we had designed, and the message was short and simple:

Ivar's been shot somewhere near his fatal organs. We're rushing him to hospital at the current moment. 😔

I snorted. Too bad for the kid. The punching bag's been deflated, let's celebrate! We didn't even need him in the first place anyway. I mean, the most he's done is hit a random guard with his palm and knock his weapon out of place. What was that?

Shortly after this, another message buzzed in. I eagerly opened the chat again, expecting some sort of grievance towards Iva- the punching bag, but instead, it was another message declaring an injured agent.

It was from Trixie:

Dylan's been shot too, somewhere near his lungs and heart. Multiple rounds made it through his body. Rushing him to the ER rn

I replied quickly with:

WHAT!? MAKE SURE TO GET HIM THERE QUICKLY- I CAN'T HAVE AN AGENT DYING ON US 😭😭
oh yeah, and maybe just apply a few band aids to the punching bag. BUT GET DYLAN CARE ASAP :(

There was no bias in writing the message, of course. But I felt genuinely concerned for Dylan's health stability. Near the lungs and heart? Both of those were key organs, and seeing that he might die in the next 24 hours felt the same as if a bullet had hit me myself.

I can't just have him disappear from the spying world. He's even posting the Wattpad parts for us- that's a key reason why we can't lose him. He's also a pretty good spy, and we need him on the team. If he's gone, then our whole gang is going to have to recover from the setback. Trixie might even quit.

Suddenly, a hand pressed against my shoulder, with just the same impact force as Ben did earlier. I turned around instinctively, looking for Ben's usual disappointed face, the tangy smell of his cologne, and maybe his uncharged taser a few inches away from my face.

Instead, I found three men, each dressed in a black suit. The second one had a gun pointed directly at my chest, along with a hand on my shoulder.

I barely had any time to react before the three men had me in a tight hold, phone falling from my grip and clattering against the floor. The people around us screamed, some running, some taking out their phones and recording, and others dialing 911. Meanwhile, I was trying my best to stay calm.

"W-we can talk about this," I stammered, head sweating from nervousness. "Please, I-"

"Goodnight, perv," the middle person seethed.

Then his finger tensed against the trigger, and everything went black.