1 - Welcome to the Forty Agents

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I pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration and knit my brows together, pressing the entirety of my palm to my face. I typically wasn't the type to show emotions, but this. . . .this was just ridiculous. These people sound like horrid nimrods, and they utter words that they do not understand. It's irritating, and it makes me—

"Excuse me," a woman's voice interrupts my thoughts, "I don't mean to interrupt," she has a thick English accent, "but I was wondering if I could talk to you."

I turn and look at her over my shoulder; she's wearing a business casual suit, the dark purple skirt hugging her legs, "Why?" The word rolls off my tongue apathetically, because it's probably another one of my boss' whores who will try to tell me that I'm doing my job wrong. "What is it that you need to talk to me about, huh?" I hope I'm coming off as a bitch.

"Can we do it somewhere a bit more private?" That's new. "It's a personal discussion not meant for prying ears." She gives me a smile, a genuine smile.

I cock an eyebrow, "Sure, we can talk in my office." I say, my usually monotone voice hinting at surprise and curiosity. Without even bothering to tell the group in front of me where I was going, I turn on my heels and lead the woman behind me down the hallway. She follows diligently, and our stilettos seem to be in perfect sync with one another.

I take a left turn down another hallway, then I open the very first door on the right. I wait for her to enter first before I enter behind her and close the door behind me. She takes a seat at one of the chairs in front of my desk while I take a seat at the chair behind it.

"Now, would you care to elaborate what it is you needed to talk to me in private for?" I try to force my voice to sound nicer than I normally am. "And could I possibly get your name?"

She inhales before speaking, "My name is Diana Burnwood, and I've come to discuss important business with you."

"How important?" I fold my arms across my chest.

She gives another smile, "I know all about you, Miss Hartman." She says bluntly, her eyes fixating on my tensed figure. "And I wish to acquire the services in which you provide. That is, if you'll accept my offer."

"And what's in it for me?" I ask, moving one of my arms to place a hand on my desk. My fingers begin to drum the hard wood lightly. "Who do you work for, exactly?"

"The International Contract Agency, or ICA for short. We hire professionals such as yourself to rid this world of its. . .difficulties."

Before I can say anything, she continues. "I've heard and read everything about you, despite this company doing all they could to protect your files. I must say, I admire you. You're quite the silent killer, and you've absolutely no heart. It's like you're the perfect one for the job."

I furrow my brows slightly, trying to take in the words that she's saying. "Why come to me specifically?" I ask. "Don't you have assassins from your own agency that you can ask?"

"Now that you mention it," she begins, crossing her legs, "that is why I am here. The agency needs you to go undercover with an agent of our own. The two of you will be playing a bride and a groom."

I blink with unamusement. She's not serious, is she? "A bride and a groom." I put a hand on my forehead. "Are you kidding me?"

"Absolutely not." She says quickly. "You and him must undergo that disguise because of the places your targets will be. Each location contains a party of some sorts; a party that only allows couples." As if reading my mind, she answers my next question. "And you will only have to play the part for a month."

"So let me get this straight," I begin, rubbing my temples with my fingers, "you want me to pretend to be some guy's bride, go on missions with, and kill people with him?" I try not to sound sarcastic when I ask the question, but I can't help it. "And I have to do this over the course of an entire month?"

"Could be longer, who knows." She responds, the smile turning slyer.

"Will I at least get to know this guy before I'm sent off to wherever with him?" She nods her head, which offers me a little relief. I don't normally trust many men outside of my boss. Maybe it's just paranoia, but a lot of them freak me out. Then again, I've killed a lot of heartless, murdering, rapist bastards in my life, so it makes sense—to me, anyway—to be a little untrustworthy of them. "You mind giving me his name?"

"47." She responds simply.

I cock an eyebrow in confusion, "That's... not a name." Something clenches at my heart. God, no. Not 47.

She smirks, "We made it one."

I keep myself from rolling my eyes at that statement, and the demeanor she has tells me that she isn't joking when she says that. I can't help but sigh, "I'll do it, then." I say.

"Excellent!" She exclaims, seeming a bit too excited for my taste. "I will see you at the Agency later on this evening, then?" She offers me a card.

I grimace, but that's just my face. "Yeah, you'll see me." I take the card from her hands. She bids me farewell before she turns and heads for the door.

"Oh, and one more thing," she turns the knob a little and looks at me over her shoulder, "I can't afford to have two agents fall for each other, so no romantic relationships." She gives me a slight wink before exiting my office.

I scoff when she closes the door. Why the hell would I fall for that agent? I ask myself before shaking my head.

I then look down at the card in my hands—it's plain white, except for the black lettering on the front of it. In bold letters, I could read clearly the address of the building I'm supposed to go to and a phone number that I can contact, apparently, if I need anymore information. I read the address a few times, making sure to take a mental note of it so that I'll remember it later when time comes to head there. As much as I don't want to admit this, I can't help but feeling excited and somewhat anxious at this offer.

I'd heard of the Agency before, I just never expected that I would ever be contracted to work for them.

And 47. . .I know exactly who he is.

He was the one they hired to kill my brother.

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