xxxi. ROGUE MISSIONS

"Hello mam," the security guard states.

The giant seal of the Central Intelligence Agency was carved into the wall behind him. The daunting protrusion shook me slightly. In an attempt to maintain my casual ambiance, I give the guard a small smile. He scans my badge, takes my briefcase, and has me walk through a metal detector.

"Ms. Smith," the guard says in a wary tone. "Even at level eight clearance, I can't let you bring this in."

Smith? Level eight clearance? Oh right, that's the information printed on the fake ID.

"Bring what in?" I ask with faux confusion.

"It's your briefcase. You can't bring in a stun gun."

I laugh it off. Subtly, my hand runs through the blonde strands of my wig. "My mistake. It's just for me to feel safe in the city."

The guard nods politely. He takes out my stun gun and hands back my briefcase. With level eight security clearance, Thirteen had made my life a hundred times easier. I didn't even need my computer to hack into security.

He practically allowed me to waltz into the most fortified agency in the world with nothing but a fake ID. Now where is that USB? My burner phone suddenly buzzes in my back pocket. There's a text message from an unknown number.

"Good job, Darling." It read.

Only one person called my that obnoxious name. My nude high heels spin around to see if there was anyone who looked even remotely suspicious, though the entire first floor was practically empty.

"Where are you, Thirteen?" I text back.

"I see that you've decided to accept my offer."

"Just don't hurt my family or I'll destroy the USB."

"You have my word. You look good as a blonde."

"Gag me. With cyanide. Then throw me into a river. Now what do you want?"

"The USB is in the underground 3rd floor. The code is Delta, Romeo, Alfa, Sierra."

"How do you even get all this information?"

"I ask nicely. And if they don't tell me, I kill them."

I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or serious. Either way, I click off the phone and take the elevator to the instructed floor. The underground floor is scarce with people. My face is masked with confidence as I walk down to the end of the hallway. With my best attempt, I try to avoid letting security cameras catch my face, only my wig.

A gaggle of guards are debating one another at the end of the hallway right in front of the door where the USB is being held. As I get closer, glimpses of their conversation fill more of the corridor.

"Excuse me," I say while trying to exude confidence.

"Who are you?" One of them turns suspiciously to face me.

I flash them my badge; the clearance level seemed to shut them up immediately.

"Sorry Ms. Smith, I've just never seen you around the New York agency before," she responds apologetically.

"It's fine. Now may I speak to the head of technology? Seattle is waiting for my urgent reply.

The guards nod to each other, part, then one leads me into the room.

The small hallway belied its actual depths; on the other side of that door, there was a major technological facility the size of a football field. Giant monitors flashed like it was the middle of the morning. A hologram of a globe projected into the center of the room. Scientists, project heads, and data analysts all scrambled around the technology hub.

Whoa. I now understood that the real heart of the agency was not in the skyscraper, but in fact under the skyscraper.

The guards lead me deep into the facility. Glass divided the various scientific experiments from one another. We finally stop in a conference room where a woman sat, typing away on her computer.

"Beam them up Scotty," the woman looks up. She gauges me with blue eyes through thick lenses.

She turns to the guard when I don't respond. There a palatable tension when I don't immediately answer. I flinch, slightly confused. Shit. Well, I guess Thirteen's weird code is worth a try.

"Delta, Romeo, Alfa, Sierra."

The woman suddenly stops in her tracks. She runs a hand through her jet black hair, disregarding the professional setting, and lets it fall to her face. With a swift motion, she dismisses security. She fumbles around underneath her desk once everyone else exits to pull out the USB.

"I didn't realize the Director himself sent you," she states.

"I'm here to scan the USB for malware before its sent to the joint services council."

The lie rolled off my tongue easily. I couldn't believe all the bullshit I was spewing.

"You must be very talented. Only a select group of programmers are allowed to look at it."

I give her a small smile. From my briefcase, I withdraw my computer and palm the fake USB. As she hands me the real one, I replace it with the replica and plug the fake one into my computer. I hand the replica USB back to her after ten minutes of pretend programming.

In reality, I was just playing that dinosaur game on google chrome when there's no wifi.

The woman stops me before I can leave. "I'll contact the Director and tell him you stopped by."

My lips pull into a smile that contradicted the chills I felt. Double shit. "Of course, thank you."

"Have a safe flight back," the technology head returns.

"Good work Darling. Now leave and don't turn back," the unknown number texts as soon as I leave the glass doors of headquarters.

"She's going to contact the Director. How do I intercept the message?"

"I'll take care of it."

"What do you mean by 'take care of it'? Don't hurt her."

I don't get a response for a while. Christ, I could not have another death on my hands due to Thirteen. Playing with lives was something he did often."Fine," the number finally replies. "But you just took away all the fun."

A sigh of relief escapes my lips. At least for tonight, no one would get hurt.

~

Everyone is still heavily sedated by the time I get back into the penthouse. My watch blinks 4:20AM.

After hiding away my clothing, backpack, wig, and the USB in my room, I take a long shower to combat the sheer exhaustion. It was over; for better or for worse, I now could successfully break the encryptions on the USB. Well, that is, if I could hide it from Banana Bread.

I step outside of the bathroom to head back into my room. Inside, Ace sat arms-crossed on my bed.

Well speak of the fucking devil.

"You seem to have gotten over your hangover," Ace observes.

I try to maintain a cool ambiance. The fact that I'm in a towel doesn't really help my situation. Ace looked like he had fully recovered though. If four shots of absinthe was in anyone else, they'd be for the lack of a better word—tripping balls.

His liver was almost admirable.

"Same to you. Now why the hell are you in my room?"

"Why did you take a shower at 4AM?"

I stare hard at him when he adverts my question. My shoulders shrug. "People like to stay clean; I know that may be hard for you to believe."

Ace's eyebrows raise at my insult. "Wow. For the lack of substance in your head, your mouth does a great job compensating."

I scoff. "Speaking of compensating—your ego. I still think you're trying to overcompensate for something."

Ace's golden eyes mirror mine and narrow. "For the love of god, woman, you can find out for yourself."

My face turns red. At this inopportune expression, his lips tug up in amusement. Outwitted, I half-heartedly respond, "go take a dive in the Mariana Trench."

"I hope your next period is in a shark tank."

"Seriously," I demand, thoroughly annoyed, "what do you want?"

Ace's golden eyes flicker towards mine. "Tell me, Miss Snow, why did you get me drunk then sneak out in the middle of the night?"

Well triple shit.

Ace: "Vote and I'll bring you chocolate on your next period."

AN: Holy shizzballs thanks for 80K! We also hit #2 in action—which is almost as insane as Thirteen is. If you vote, and we hit #1 this week, I'll update twice ;)