Comrade

Prologue | Comrade

I'd never been one to walk leisurely.
I didn't get the point anyways. Time wasn't a friend, so why not save it by briskwalking?

Walk fast. Save time.

Exactly what I planned to do as I shoved my hands into the front pockets of my jeans and pushed through the swarm of colourful people surrounding me.
My slightly fatigued eyes darted round periodically, in search of a 5'5 redhead.

I sighed as my nose twitched for the umpteenth time, not quite used to the object that rested on its bridge. I pushed it up instinctively, contemplating whether this choice of disguise was the smartest; I'd always hated glasses.

I finally managed to adjust them to my satisfaction, and right on time too, because I'd just caught a flash of ginger from the corner of my eye.
Whipping my head round, I smirked when I spotted him writhing his way through the crowd, heading for the exit and towards a cluster of flatroofed houses.

Target identified.

Now it was time to walk even faster. And with legs as thin and slender as mine, that wouldn't be much of a problem.

As I walked, a little reminder went off in my head, not wanting me to forget about my partner on this mission too; I'd had enough talkingtos from our Commander to last me a lifetime.

"In our agency, we value our comrades because we know the importance of teamwork," he'd say, "it's high time you learned it too Agent Cayman."

Yup, I certainly didn't need one of those earfuls today.

So to contact my bestie, cousin, and partner-in-crime, I spoke into the microphone embedded in my bracelet.

"Target location: 12 o'clock to the yellow mascot, exiting," I said, my gaze never drifting from the mess of red hair ahead.

"Roger," came Charlene's reply from the other end.

I doubled my steps away from the racket of the ongoing festival, falling in step with the man my eyes were trained on.

Following discreetly as he made his way onto a nearby roof, I whispered, "Head back to HQ. I've got this."

A moment of silence ensued.
I sighed, knowing what was coming next.

3...

2...

"Are you sure you don't want backup Stace? I did some background research. This guy's pretty good at combat," Charlene said, being the overprotective best friend she was.

Even if he wasn't that much of a threat, she'd still be against me doing this alone. She always was.

Still, I narrowed my eyes, zoning in on the target to do my own study. Judging from his military-like posture, he certainly wouldn't be an easy one to combat. I mean, look at those badboys he's got for biceps.

I smiled.
Excellent. This wouldn't be entirely boring after all. Who liked an easy fight anyway?

Bringing my wrist to my lips once more, I answered, "So am I Char. Like I said, I've got this," then switched the transmitter off before she could get another word in.

Placing one foot on a windowsill to hoist myself up, I climbed onto the rooftop he'd disappeared onto as quietly as possible, only to spot him jumping from this one onto another.

He knew parkour? Just great.

The thud of my trainers making contact with the roof he was on had Ginger turning.
So much for being discreet.

His eyes widened in recognition for a split second, and he eyed me up warily, waiting to see if I'd pull out a weapon. I didn't.
Then before I knew it, he was running towards me in attack.