Access Denied

1. Two in One

Director Cory Davidson descended down the staircase into the basement. The steep steps were always a challenge, as were the creaking sounds the steps made when having to handle weight. Though the sounds it made weren't the real challenge, the real challenge was to get by the staircase without alerting anyone of your presence.

And that for Davidson, as a spy from a Secret Agency, should have proved easy. And it was easy. And it was because half the population of the neighborhood was either asleep or too tired to care on that drowsy Sunday morning.

Davidson liked to think that it was because of this particular drowsiness that people were intentionally blind. And in these small-intentional blinds, huge events have and are taking place.

Very much similar to the happenings in Old City of Philadelphia, where two men sought these certain circumstances perfect for the execution of a highly classified mission.

So highly classified, that the details of this mission was not even allowed on paper. The orchestrators of this mission had all the details (which was a fairly small amount for this particular mission) memorized word-to-word and letter-to-letter.

When he finally made it down to the basement, he found his most trusted agent already there, aware of his arrival. Often Davidson forgot that while he was a highly successful super spy, the people he worked with, were also super spies.

However good I may be, this man will always surprise me.

"Good Evening Director."

The man held out his hand for the Davidson to shake. "Good Evening to you too. I expect you have something to show me, Andrew?"

Agent Andrew Harley was a most valued man in the eyes of the Director. Davidson trusted him with his life. Not to mention he was a top agent of Blind Spot Agency. He wore nothing other than a dull overcast suit, camouflaging him into the bundles of people he often blended in with for missions.

"Yes sir. It's about the new team. I had someone in mind." Harley gestured to his laptop that sat on his desk, "I had to pull a few strings but..." Harley opened his laptop, revealing it to show a mute but running video. "We managed to secure a recording of her last mission, Sir."

As Davidson sat down, he caught a glimpse of who was in this footage. It was of a small, lean woman, her choppy black shoulder length hair lying stilly on her shoulders. She was wearing a black full-sleeve shirt with a scarf looped around her neck and black pants that ended at her black boots. Her lips were pursed as she walked up the streets. Her eyes were like a storm, calm but about to tear everything that came in her way.

Looking closer, it dawned upon him.

"Is that—?" Before he could even finish asking his question, Agent Harley gave him a simple nod. "Wasn't she unauthorized to go on field missions? I thought she had the whole therapy and—"

Harley cut him off, this time with words. "She's ready, Sir."

The recording was unmuted, though it didn't do much help. The woman walked around a large market. She shoved and pushed around the crowded roads, trying to get to her destination—wherever it was—quicker.

She blended in with the masses of people and if Davidson wasn't keeping a constant eye on her, he wouldn't have known she was even there.

She slipped through the allies and roads. She tightened the scarf around her neck, still walking at a steady pace. She walked to an open street leading to a small dingy-looking motel. People were already standing in the lobby. All of them were wearing black and stoic expressions on their faces.

She stepped inside the hotel and all heads snapped to her direction. She gave an acknowledging nod and started walking to the elevators. She was almost there when a man put his arm on her shoulder to stop her.

"I'm sorry little miss, but you can't go up without a proper search," he grunted in his deep, scruffy voice.

She glared at the hand that was now on her shoulder, restraining her from moving forward. Finally she took a deep breath and turned around, gesturing with her hands to check her. "Make it quick."

They checked her, patting down her clothes from top to bottom, checking for anything. They found a can of pepper spray in her pocket and a pocket knife in another one. The man eyed her suspiciously, waiting for an answer.

She shrugged, "Bad neighborhood."

The man gave her an uncertain nod and continued his search. The man, then made her take of her boots and show it to him, when nothing could be found they let her go.

"There is an illegal weapon dealing happening on the top floor," Harley informed him. "We thought it was simple enough for a come-back mission."

Davidson sighed. "I know she's a good agent, Harley. No doubt, she's one of the best we have, but she doesn't even have a weapon or backup."

The elevator dinged as she got out of it. She started pulling at the left side of her scarf undoing the loop. Davidson briefly wondered if she should have been cleared from her therapy. But he knew, even if she wasn't, he wouldn't be able to do anything to stop her. She stepped up to a door, checked the room number and pressed the buzzer.

Davidson gestured to the screen. "The only remotely possible weapon—or object—she has is that scarf."

The brief clicking of the locks could be heard as the door flung open and the woman wrapped the scarf around the opener's neck and twisted it, cracking it and leaving him no time to respond. The man resisted but eventually, dropped to the floor.

A light smile appeared on Agent Harley's lips. "And that's all she needs."

Bending down to the fallen man on the floor, the woman picked up his gun that had fallen limp in his hand. She slammed the butt of the gun into the man coming at her and let a kick fly to his face. Another man tried to restrain her as the other tried to punch her. Pulling her head back, she bashed her head at the man that came toward her. The man restraining her lost hold of her arm and she pulled out a can of pepper spray and sprayed it at his eyes. The man clutched his eyes as the last man let his hand fly toward her cheek. Her head swung to the side because of the impact and just as he went to swing again, she cocked the gun and shot his leg.

"Well that was just too ridiculously easy," she muttered as she bent down to check their pulses. "Why couldn't Harley give this to Braxton? Oh yeah, it's a damned come back mission." She proceeded to collect the brief cases on the table and opening them to check their contents.

"So," Harley closed the laptop and turned to faced Davidson. "What do you think, Sir?" But Harley already knew the answer.

"Deaton's in." After a moment he asked "How many more do we need?"

Harley rubbed his forehead and looked down to his hands. "Considering we already have, Agents Harvey, De' Gracias, lil' Davidson and Deaton—uh, two more." He answered.

"And what would their fields of expertise be?"

"Someone that's good with their hands—a pit-pocket of sorts," he muttered something unrecognizable. "And someone with a good understanding of computers."

Director Davidson smiled a knowing smile. He stood from his chair and walked towards the corner of the basement. He pulled the drawer at the corner open and took out a file. The contents of the file weren't unseen by Harley but when he saw it, Harley knew.

He knew that two agents weren't going to be gracing their mission. The person Davidson wanted coming in wasn't even an agent to start with. She wasn't even on the right side of law. Agent Harley watched as Davidson muttered something about this being risky. And Harley wholeheartedly knew it would be more than risky.

Risky and volatile.

Davidson took a deep breath, his eyes not anywhere but the file in his hand. "How 'bout, a two in one?" he asked, smile widening. "Because I may just have someone in mind."