1CLARA
Every operative had the same fear and the same hope: to wake up one day and see the envelope sealed with the signet of Command slipped under their door. This envelope was the call that set an operative apart from the rest. It sent them into their own assignment, separate from those they trained with. It was evidence the operative had a special set of skills the other operatives didn’t. It was an incredibly brilliant honor. It was also, more often than not, a death sentence. If not in the original assignment, then in a future one.
When Clara saw the envelope on her floor, adrenaline immediately coursed through her veins. This was not her first assignment like this, and if she survived it wasn’t her last. She had gained her status as a high ranking operative over a year ago, and had received more summons than anyone else in her year, almost more than anyone in the division. It had been two months since her last assignment, the longest stint for her and she was completely restless.
Clara threw her clothes on quickly, meticulously lacing her boots and concealing her favorite weapons. Her trainer had gifted them to her after her first summons. Obsidian blades. Absolutely lethal.
She didn’t typically carry beyond those; her role was usually to blend in until it was too late for the person she was after. She had the mannerisms of a spy, but her honed agility and weapons training had given her a level of precision and deadliness few operatives could claim to possess. She smiled into the mirror, her eyes never softening, and she pulled her hair back.
She inhaled deeply.Here I go.She broke the seal.
“Clara Richards -
You have been summoned to Command. Join us in the war room at 0900 for your new assignment.
Command”
Clara couldn’t keep the slight smile off her face as she walked through the dining line. “What’s with you this morning?” Reese, the closest person Clara had to a friend, asked as Clara slid onto the bench next to her.
“Oh, just another one of those mornings.”
“So cryptic.” Reese stabbed a mini muffin on her plate, waving it on her fork as she added, “You got called into Command again, didn’t you?”
Clara did not react immediately. She was trained not to react. But in the safety of the dining hall it was harder to slip into that perfectly crafted role. Reese kept the impaled muffin pointed at Clara. The lack of response was enough for Reese to assume she had correctly guessed. “Of course you did.” She deadpanned. “Dude, it’s been awhile since you’ve had an assignment! I’m sure you’re thrilled. I know I am. You’ve been driving me absolutely, positively, incredibly insane.”
Clara smiled hesitantly, “So eager to get rid of me.”
Reese rolled her eyes, “Get rid of you is a strong phrase. Far too strong since you’ll be coming back. Obviously. No, more like I’m grateful you will have the chance to relax and work out some of your stress. Since that’s what does it for you. It’s weird to me. Really weird to me. But I’m sure you’re excited.” Reese took a deep breath when she finally finished her rambling train of thought.
Clara allowed a real smile to grace her face, “Yeah, okay. I’m excited. It just doesn’t feel like the right thing to admit. I’m sure I’m being sent somewhere extremely dangerous. Again. It doesn’t seem like the right thing to be excited about.”
Reese didn’t hold the same sentiment. “You’re not excited because of the danger or because the war is getting worse.” She exhaled deeply and popped the muffin into her mouth. Around bites she added, “You’re excited because somehow this is where you find purpose. Don’t ask me how or why. I’m not a psychic, or is it psychologist? Psychiatrist? Pretty sure it begins with psych. Anyways. You’re gonna have to figure that one out on your own.”
Clara nodded, shoving a bite of eggs into her mouth. These missions did bring a form of satisfaction to her. It was the knowledge she was furthering her kingdom. She was protecting people. She was standing in the gap in ways the normal population would never know. And the more selfish part, she was proving to herself and everyone else just how capable she was.
Ever since she and Carver were split between disciplines, and then split permanently, she had strived to become the best. She created an identity within her discipline–become the best assassin, until that’s all anyone ever saw: a shadow.
As Reese continued to ramble, Clara tried to tune her out. Though she would never admit it, her nerves were becoming more and more on edge from the idea of facing Command. Though she had been in that room many times since theygraduated and received their classification, she couldn’t walk those hallways without thinking of Carver. It was practically ritualistic. She threw herself into assignments to forget him, only to have his face come to mind every time she was given one.
Following basic training, each person was assigned to continue training as a special operative, or drafted into a military regiment where they became boots on the ground for emerging battles. For those chosen to train as operatives, they were assigned to Ravens, Spiders, or Vipers.
The Ravens were trained to blend into any scenario. Spies — intelligence. The Spiders were crafty and brilliant. Clara had seen some of the weapons they created throughout her own training, and it terrified her to consider what else Spiders might be capable of. She was grateful they were on the same team, and had resolved to never get close to, and never upset, a Spider.
Clara was assigned to Vipers. As lethal as the name suggests, Vipers were trained to be killers. Brutal, awful, terrible murderers.
Clara had been relieved that she and Carver were placed within operative disciplines. Now, she felt foolish for ever believing it was the easy way out. Operatives were pushed until they broke and what was left of their humanity was barely enough to stay sane. The line between brilliance and madness. A tightrope every operative learned to walk. Or didn’t.
“So will you admit you’re freaking thrilled? Or keep pretending this doesn’t phase you?”
Clara rolled her eyes, though secretly she enjoyed the extra attention Reese was paying her.
“Yes, I’m excited. Something I shouldn’t admit though,” Reese leaned in as Clara dropped her voice slightly. “Before every mission, I have the same anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach I had the first time.”
Reese burst out laughing, the noise shattering the concentration Clara’s brain had created. Every noise around her felt louder. Closer. More dangerous. As her anticipation grew, every sense heightened. Adrenaline doesn’t know the difference between anxiety and fear, and as Clara had trained, everything around her took on the hue of a threat.
“When did they tell you to go to them?”
“Right after breakfast.”
