I like to think her answer to my question reveals that the truest, deepest parts of my aunt are that of an inherently honest woman, despite the job she chose, which is steeped in secrecy from beginning to end.
I sit down in the chair in front of her desk, pretending to ignore Anabelle’s frigid countenance. She hates when I act upbeat and positive in the face of her unfriendliness. I know she must frighten the other junior agents half to death on a daily basis with her vein-freezing stares alone.
“Morning, Anabelle.”
Anabelle’s left eye twitches at my use of her first name, but she doesn’t comment on it.
“Good morning, Agent Snow.”
She never calls me by anything other than “Agent Snow” when we’re on base. I think she’d do it off base too if she could get away with it. But I would mock her mercilessly if she did, and she likely deducted it would be too much aggro to deal with.
“So, go on then,” I press when Anabelle doesn’t speak for a solid few seconds. “What’s the emergency? Is London Bridge falling down? Did someone shove an innocent egg off a wall? Don’t tell me that spider is terrorising Miss Muffet again; I thought we gave that little bastard the boot smash he deserved.”
Anabelle does not appear amused. She’s never amused by me. It’s the great tragedy of my life, being this hilarious and having no one in my family appreciate it in the least.
“I would ask that you find it within yourself to take this meeting seriously, as there are important matters at stake. I require you to be at your best for the benefit of us all.”
I was somewhat annoyed to have my time off interrupted, but Anabelle’s air of impending doom and fragile expectation is piquing my curiosity.
“Alright,” I say slowly, putting some professionalism back into my tone for her sake. “What do you need me to do?”
Anabelle sits forward slightly in her seat and regards me with the same stoic pragmatism. Her posture is loose, much like a snake hanging dangerously from a tree. I have to be careful she doesn’t see an opportunity to strike, as that relaxed state can change in an instant.
“I would like to discuss the rescued Liquid Onyx survivor Jack Roth with you.”
Rescuedis a bit of a stretch.
When Aaron and Anabelle showed up at the safe house with two vans full of FISA agents, the situation went downhill very quickly.
Jack got jumpy when the FISA agents came storming in like locusts during a plague in Egypt. He tried to make a mad dash for freedom. That in turn spooked the FISA agents, who immediately went on the offensive and shot him with a tranquilliser bullet or six.
For my part, I had a right go at them for being so ridiculous. Damon and, surprisingly, Rohan backed me up. Neither of them was shy in expressing how equally pissed off they were about the overreaction.
Aaron and Anabelle were very much unmoved by the whole display.
After a dressing down from my aunt for not reporting the incident as soon as I had Jack in custody, it was agreed we would take him back to the FISA base with us.
Damon was given a similar lecture from his father although there was a lot more parental disappointment than I received. Given how much Damon tries to live up to his father’s—in my opinion—impossible standards, it was painful to hear him being reprimanded so fiercely.
We had to go out drinking just to wipe away the general shittiness of the day’s events. I would have invited Rohan, but he disappeared soon after we got to the FISA base, and I didn’t fancy tracking him back to his lab.
“You mean the Liquid Onyx survivor you refused to let me say goodbye to after ordering me out on a three-month long mission and haven’t allowed me to visit since I got back?” I say wryly.
I was so pissed when my handler told me I would be going away on an extended undercover op. I knew the order could only have come from Anabelle directly. I was even more pissed when she wouldn’t let me explain things to Jack so he wouldn’t think I just fucked off and abandoned him here.
But Anabelle stood firm and refused to allow any contact between us. She said it was necessary until they could be sure of Jack’s future with the agency.
I tried once to see him when I got back from my mission, and it was another bust. I was afraid maybe they sent him away somewhere, but Anabelle was at least willing to confirm Jack has not been allowed off base since he was brought in. He was considered too high a flight risk.
I’m not sure if keeping Jack locked up on the base like a prisoner is going to help him feel more like a person and less like the weapon OI made him into. The whole thing seems counterproductive to me. But I’m a junior agent, and Anabelle has made it crystal clear such decisions are far beyond my purview.
As if reading my mind, Anabelle ignores my jibe and goes on to explain, “We have made the decision to give Agent Roth the chance to earn his freedom.”
AgentRoth? I’m already getting so many bad feelings about this.
“Earn his freedom how?” I ask. “Is he going to join the lunch crew and clean plates as penance for what OI made him do?”
Anabelle raises her eyebrows at me, a rare show of expression. “Made him do, is it?”
