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|| Sara ||
“I sent the car,” I say into my mouthpiece, which, unlike the ones we use for missions, is connected to a pair of headphones like directors use when shooting movies. “It’s #5.”
“Good,” Nikki says. From what I could pick up from her and Alicia’s mouthpieces, our new recruit is Asian, judging from her accent. Plus, from Alicia’s body-scan, she is skinny and slightly on the short side. Nikki probably got her because of her flexibility. Erin is busy reading a body-scan on her plasma screen. I glance over her shoulder. “What’re you doing?”
“Alicia did a body scan before Hana’s. It was a male, with pitch-black hair, wide stance, long arms and probably five-foot-seven.”
“So? You think him and Hana are related?”
“I don’t think so. When Hana told Nikki and Alicia her history—what I was able to pick up before Nikki interrupted her, but anyways—she didn’t mention any siblings, much less a brother. She said ryoushin, which, from my search, means parents.”
“So why is he so important that you have to double-check Alicia’s scan?”
“Nothing. It’s just that I thought I got a glitch in the system before I received the scan. Guess I was wrong,” she says, fingers tapping on the screen to minimize the scan window.
“Erin West is never wrong when it comes to technology. We should check out that scan again when we have time,” I tell her, grinning.
We recruited Erin about a year ago when I found her at a computer summer camp. But what made her stand out the most from the other members was that, instead of a gaming website on her screen, it was full of numbers and symbols I didn’t know. I’d sent her the exact same message that Nikki gave Hana, but instead it was encrypted in an email with a virus. Barely ten minutes later, I’d gotten a reply.
“Wait, I think they’re coming,” Erin informs me, her eyes momentarily flicking to our tracker screen. Sure enough, two black dots and a green dot are drawing nearer the gray rectangle, which is our base. I nod briefly. “Open the gates. Don’t forget to run a scan on the car first, in case someone attached a time bomb to its bumper.”
“Will do,” she says, tapping the screen a few times. “System’s clear. They’re in.”
**
Minutes later, Erin and I are standing outside Mission Control, greeting our possible recruit, Hana Minami. She told us her history—her whole history; Nikki didn’t interrupt her this time—and from what I can remember—which is, not to brag, everything—she had to move to the USA because there was a plague in Japan and her parents forced her to live with her uncle Hideyoshi, who turned out to be a total loser so she decided to run away and rent her own apartment about three blocks away. No mention of a brother.
“So, what do you specialize in, Hana?” I ask. There’s no need for us to take notes, because whatever our mouthpieces can pick up shows up as a dialogue in one of the Mission Control’s screens. The Japanese bows slightly before answering.
“Mostly hand-to-hand combat, I guess. Karate is my mother sport, but when I moved here, I learned others like boxing, judo and others.” I raise my eyebrow at that. Because of her skinny built, I never would’ve guessed that she’d be good at physical combat. “Okay, let’s see what you can do.”
With a nod, Nikki leads Hana to our Training Room, the rest of us trailing behind. Maroon Jacket HQ is a really wide place, full of hallways branching out to different rooms which we use to store stuff, train, or relax in. But when you’re living the life of a Jacket, you barely have time to relax. When we aren’t away on missions, we’re scattered around the country—and sometimes even abroad—in search for possible recruits. We’ve tested around ninety people of all races, ages and built, but if you haven’t guessed, we’re only four—five, if Hana makes it—agents.
When Nikki opens the door to our most favorite room in the HQ, the Training Hall, its lights automatically turn on to reveal a spacious room with its walls lined with probably half a hundred racks holding all sorts of weapons. I myself don’t know half of them, but that’s what the president managed to pick up here and there.
“Since you’re a physical fighter, I don’t suppose you have any favorite weapon aside from your fists, right?” Alicia asks, flipping her blond hair over her shoulder. Hana shrugs, but then shakes her head no. “I don’t think so. I don’t actually have the money to buy weapons, even back in Japan.”
“No worries. We have a lot of stuffed dummies you can punch,” Erin assures her and flicks a switch by the door, which most recruits usually mistook for a light switch. Instead, a dozen punching bags and boards rise out of the floor. I point the first board out to Hana. “That’s level one. If you manage to make it through all twelve tests, you’ve passed. But this doesn’t mean you immediately get in, though. We still have a few other requirements you’ll need to pass—“
“Enough talk. Hana, go ahead,” Nikki cuts in. She calls blondes annoying, but would she take a moment to look at herself? Not that I hate her, though, but she sends bad vibes to everyone with all her toughness and all.
Hana just shrugs and takes a moment to look at the board in front of her. It’s about four inches of glass, which, even to a Jacket, was pretty thick. Without a warning, the Asian lets out a small yell and brings her hand down on the glass, which shatters at contact. Impressive.
YOU ARE READING
The S.H.A.N.E. Game (editing)
Action[ highest ranking: #43 Action ] Sara Williams, Hana Minami, Alicia Denver, Nikki Connor and Erin West – can you guess their acronym? – are not as girly and gentle as their names give away. They are the Maroon Jackets. They are the equivale...
