I hugged the large duffel coat around me as I charged past the hotel check-in desk, they didn't even look up at me. This wasn't the type of hotel where anyone would take notice of anyone else's business anyway. I stepped into the lift and a man that smelled of beer and body odour followed me. He was dragging a skinny woman dressed in leopard print with thigh-high black boots by the elbow. Like I said, it was that type of hotel, and I minded my own business as the couple whispered and flirted in front of me.
I freeze. A warm liquid tickles my hip and start to run downwards. Blood. I hug the coat tighter as though I was cold but really I was pressing down on the wound on my ribs and trying to stop the blood from flowing further.
The man murmured something about how he is going to show the woman such a good time she will forget about the money. It makes me cringe. Me and the woman both know that it's not true, but she smiles and says "Sicher Liebling" in german anyways.
Drip. A drop of red splashes on the floor.
Shit.
Neither of them notices.
Drip. Drip. Drip. Several more drops follow making a small, red, pool of my DNA on the lift floor.
I barely breathe and wait until its the man and the woman's floor. As soon as the doors are shut behind them I pack my scarf over my wound and wipe any visible blood from the floor with my coat. I pull the perfume bottle from my bag that contains a Clorox solution and spray the spot, destroying any evidence of my DNA. My DNA doesn't currently exist on any system, I don't really exist on any system and I intend for it to stay that way. I spray a little extra Clorox to be sure, this is probably the cleanest spot in the entire hotel. I rub my shoe into the liquid muddying it like the rest of the floor.
I manage to make it into my room keeping the rest of my blood to myself and shut the door behind me. I pull my mattress, bedding and pillows to the floor, whether it's the plaza or this dump, I hate hotel beds. Then I spread plastic sheets over the bedding mess.
A high pitched moaning breaks through the silence from the room next door and the other neighbour puts their TV on loud. Frantic german shouting can be heard from both sides. I begin to undress, careful to keep my clothes on the plastic sheets. My wound throbs as I unpack it, it's painful but only shallow. I clean it, stitch it up and bandage it again, taking my time this time. I was in a rush before but the fire I left behind will clean any evidence of any blood, mine or otherwise. My phone rings.
"Hallo?" I answer the phone in German.
"Hello Agent Cyan" Commander Jones says, we swop passwords, although it's a formality, we have known one another all my life. "Can we have a status update?"
"Elijah has been eliminated and erased, mission complete" I respond "I have a moderate injury to my thorax."
"Moderate?" Commander Jones queries. Concern lacing his tone.
"Moderate," I state firmly. I am fine, this will take a few weeks to heal but it is nothing more than that.
"Fine." He sounds miffed, I won't explain further. "And of the Prime Minister?"
"Uninjured and safe and cleared to deliver her Christmas address tomorrow. "
"Excellent!" I can hear the smile and pride through the phone and I can't help but smile. "You have done well agent Cyan, Elijah was a particularly tough target."
"No one ever suspects the teenage girl," I said cockily.
"Exactly" Commander Jones Replies. "When do you return?"
"Boxing day, first flight from Berlin to Manchester"
"Excellent!" The commander repeats "I know it's rather soon, but I have sent you through your next mission already, check your phone, this one isn't your usual forte, so it will need a lot of research."
"Okay," I say dragging out the word, not sure what "not my forte meant" as I had done everything from defending the German Prime Minister to arresting crime bosses.
There is a bleep on the line.
"I have to go Agent Cyan, Merry Christmas and see you the day after tomorrow"
"Merry Christmas," I say and I hear him pause. "Commander Jones?" I question
"Are you sure your injury is moderate?"
"Yes," I say, touched by the concern. "It's shallow, stitches only, not near any organs, no broken bones and not near any major arteries, nerves or veins." I list off, autopilot taking over from years of drills. Then I soften my tone "Honestly I'm fine, barely a bruise, don't worry."
"Okay, do you want me to fly you out tonight to see to it and..." he pauses "so you're not alone on Christmas?".
"That will draw too much attention" I wanted to go home but it was risky travelling at all during the pandemic, we didn't need to draw any more attention to it and Commander Jones knew this. "We can celebrate on boxing day."
"Okay see you then, call me if you need anything." the line beeped again and then went dead.
"Bye," I say to the dead air and huff.
Immediately an encrypted e-mail comes through. This will be my next mission. I'll read through it later, for now, I had to destroy my clothes and bandages from tonight.
Note from Nikita:
Hello everyone and thank you so much for choosing to read my story. I know picking your next read is a big investment in your time. I hope you enjoyed it. Please rate and comment I really appreciate it and it will help me improve my work. All constructive criticism is welcome! Follow if you want to catch chapter 2!
More fun things to come, I will update weekly!
The next chapter is going to give you some insight into Agent Cyan's next mission. Where do you think she is going? Do you like Agent Cyan so far?
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The Copper King
RomanceAgent Cyan works for an experimental subset of MI6 that raises children from toddlers to become elite spies. Set in the near future another strain of Covid is locking the country down. The economy is unstable, tentions are high and organised crime i...
