Agent Rogue: Renegade

Chapter 1

NOTE: This story is currently being edited in a separate document, therefore this version may contain mistakes that should be corrected within a few weeks. (15.07.20)

Masses upon masses of people had gathered for the vibrant celebrations of the annual Carnival in Rio. The month of February was just beginning, although the air of Brazil's most vibrant city remained warm, roaring with the excitement and music of the parade like a blazing fire. Every float had been scattered with a myriad of dancers and musicians that sparkled like diamonds caught in a ray of sunlight. An extravagant, living, beautiful city of light.

But all light casts a shadow.

Among the iridescence and ethereal beauty of the parade lied a murderer; an anonymous assassin paid to commit a murder that night. The problem in finding him was that he was to be paid in cash, leaving his bank accounts untraceable. Neither Collins, Scotty nor Gabby discovered the name of the assailant, only the information from an anonymous source that his next target would be killed here - in the magical celebrations in Rio - and the target's name: Tyler Hops, a fellow agent. Gabby had suggested warning Hops of the danger but Derek insisted on setting up a plan to catch the killer, using the agent as live bait.

I stood in the centre of a crowd by the floral stages, trying to tear my eyes away from the dancing lights as I looked around for Tyler Hops.

My earpiece crackled. "Ambi. Any updates?"

I narrowed my eyes. People cheered and danced - nothing out of the ordinary. "None yet, Scotty."

"Nothing suspicious here either," added Derek.

"I didn't ask you...but noted."

From a few metres away, I spotted Derek shaking his head, jaw clenched and tense. The two of them were on a strict ban of arguments during missions as they had proven to be extremely disruptive, making our mission in January almost fail simply because Scotty's accent was 'incomprehensible.' I was explosively angry that night. Dictionaries were lobbed at both of their heads and they were warned that, if it happened again, I would be digging out Victor Hugo's Les Miserables from the bookshelf. That made them quiet.

I tilted my head and scanned the rooftops, searching for any signs of movement. However, due to the overwhelming amount of light on the road, the rooftops were too much of a contrast to see clearly, leaving anyone hiding there cloaked in a useful blanket of shadow. I sighed.

"Do you see the Agent Hops?" Scotty asked.

With another glance across the crowds, I shook my head. "Nothing here."

"I've got a visual. Brown hair. Glasses?" Said Derek.

"That's him," said Gabby over the intercom. There was a swift pattern of tapping in the background. "I have his file up now, trying to find a reason why someone wants him gone."

There was a tut from Derek. "That shirt's a good enough reason."

"That's not a very nice thing to say!" Exclaimed Gabby. "I know Tyler. He's nice."

"His fashion sense isn't," said Derek.

"Where is he? I'll try to find a security camera or something," laughed Scotty, his voice shaking in amusement.

Derek laughed over the earpiece. "There's a camera just outside a shop near me."

"I'll get onto it. Just one...oh my god that is an actual disgrace! What is he wearing?"

"Why is it that the only thing the two of you can agree on is how bad the victim's fashion sense is?" I sighed, still glancing at the crowds.

"Because it's bad," said the two of them. I sighed before my phone buzzed and I pulled it out to see the most hideous, touristy, cliche neon orange shirt in existence reading: party at the carnival! in block, black capital letters. My eyes widened.