《Surfer Girl [Espionage Action-Adventure]》


 Chapter One

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    ¡°I don¡¯t have it! They took it! They took all of it! Leave me alone!¡±


    The fire shattered one back window and crept through the lab toward the student crouched in the opposite corner sobbing and screaming. More glass exploded, causing several objects to tumble across the metal tables and onto the floor. The agent panted, chancing to peek once more around the corner. Shots pummeled the wall across from him. He wanted to close his eyes, but it was too dangerous.


    The poor kid had no idea what to do, and the rest of the team were outside engaging the guards. Why they didn''t have better security on this place was a mystery. Surely they were aware of the importance of their inventions. He knelt, gun pointed at the floor,and took a deep breath. Four large interior windows surrounded the room, two around each door front and back. One back window was broken and if its partner went, he had seconds to escape the fire.


    Scuffling footsteps moved toward him, sliding rather than stepping to avoid crunching on glass. There was no time left for thought. He focused his entire concentration within the room, then spun around the corner and shot to the last location of the sound. The man went down.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    "Come toward me! It''s alright! I''m going to get you out!" He pointed the gun away from the boy and beckoned to him with the other hand.


    The boy shook and put his arms over his head, still sobbing. Shock was keeping him from saving himself.


    Smoke from the fire was making it harder to see. The agent scuttled across the room, ducking to breathe fresher air near the floor. Broken glass littered the floor like opals, glowing in the light of the fire in the adjacent lab.


    The boy pushed himself backward under the lab table, then crawled quickly toward the back door of the lab, which earlier had been guarded by the man who now lay on the floor .


    "Wait! It''s too hot in there! We have to get out the other way!" The door swung closed. Just as the agent reached the table, he was thrown back, fire whooshing through the door.

 Chapter Two

    ¡°Get hit in the head with your board, poser?¡± The stringy blond wearing a red bikini two sizes too small shoved herself into the way, jutting her chin out over the top of Arena¡¯s head. ¡°You¡¯re not from around here.¡± A group of girls gathered around her; most of them were likely still in high school.


    ¡°I¡¯m from LA; it¡¯s only a few hours away,¡± Arena planted her surfboard in the sand and tried to hide the fact she needed to lean on it.


    ¡°This is a small-time competition.¡± The smaller girl had a shrill voice and a bright pink board. ¡°A local circuit. We know you haven¡¯t surfed here before.¡± She inched toward Arena, but used her board as a shield. The group likely competed in the junior division, since she was at least five years older than the oldest in the group.


    ¡°I thought it would be fun. The swell here isn¡¯t bad.¡± Arena picked up her board. ¡°Besides, I¡¯ve already competed. It¡¯s a bit too late now,¡± she said, and pushed past the girls, going forward instead of backward. Their standoff didn¡¯t offer any real threat, but it blackened her mood.


    After about a hundred feet, Arena slammed the board down into the sand. She peeled the wet suit to her waist, exposing her black bikini top. The early March breeze left goose bumps on her skin, and her left shoulder ached from where she slammed into the board on her practice run. Half a mind to collapse, she hiked across the beach, ready for the day to be over so she could go back and take a shower.


    She found Sophia talking to two tan boys by the snack tent, flipping her hair over one shoulder. Her roommate was all California girl, tall, blond, and blue-eyed. The taller one puffed out his chest more than the other, but his cheeks were puffed out like a squirrel. Arena wondered if he was holding his breath. The other tried to lean against the sign in front of the other and missed, stumbling backward. He caught himself, but recovered and spun around, winking and grinning at them both. Why did she always encourage complete idiots?


    ¡°Oh, Ari!¡± Sophia gushed to her, patting Arena¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m sorry you only placed third! What was that? A gift certificate?¡± Sophia batted her eyelashes to each boy in turn.


    Pushing back the urge to retaliate with a snide comment, Arena sank down into the sand, every muscle protesting the weight of her body in an upright position. ¡°Yes, a gift certificate for a surf shop,¡± she muttered. ¡°So much for a quick way to $1000,¡± she mused. The boon would offset a little of the loss of her secondary scholarship, but she couldn¡¯t force her mind to concentrate on the waves. Financial worries caused her to make several small but crucial errors. She needed money to finish out the school year, and it kept her from doing well.


    ¡°Boys? Would you mind grabbing my roommate a drink? I¡¯m sure she would really appreciate it after swallowing all that salt water.¡± Sophia turned and smiled at the men, which caused them both to collide into one another, then scramble to be the first in line.


    The clumsy one returned with a soda, and she accepted gratefully. Ice weighed down the foam cup, leaving little room for cola. She stood up, still exhausted, but determined to get out of this place and back to the motel.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Sophia, I¡¯m going to head back. If you want to stay, that¡¯s fine, but I just want a shower.¡±


    ¡°No, no. I¡¯ll come, too,¡± Sophia responded brightly. ¡°Somebody should be taking care of you. Are you sure you didn¡¯t hit your head on that fall?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine. Just tired. And sandy.¡± They began walking off the beach in the direction of the motel, which was about three blocks away. Sophia had chosen it for its reputation as a party motel, but Arena was still surprised they were not staying in something fancier.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you forget something?¡± Sophia tilted her head toward the judging booth.


    ¡°They¡¯re emailing it.¡± $50 would maybe cover a couple of cans of wax, but it was better than nothing.


    Casting her head over her shoulder, Arena looked at the beach one last time. It seemed like an ordinary California beach, although it was quieter than some. A narrow strip of sand and larger swells meant that its popularity depended more on surfing than a family fun sort of location. The salt and sea air didn¡¯t seem as fresh here as in Hawaii though, and Arena felt a pang of homesickness for her island.


    They walked in silence for a block before Sophia burst out into chatter. ¡°Ari, is this what Hawaii was like all the time? All these boys on the beach? Of course, my family went to Hawaii once, but it was when I was a child. You should take me back with you!¡±


    Arena hated when Sophia called her ¡°Ari¡±, but every protest earned a perky ¡°But it¡¯s cute!¡± Her middle name was Noelani, since her dad insisted she have a traditional Hawaiian name. Schmidt was an ordinary, practical American last name.


    ¡°I kinda had bigger things on my mind than boys.¡± Sophia was a passable roommate. Arena had worse roommates in the past, though she wasn¡¯t quite sure why Sophia was living on campus in a dorm, since she probably had enough money to rent an apartment. Their dorm was one of the nicer ones on campus, and more than acceptable in Arena¡¯s mind, but seemed below Sophia¡¯s comfort zone.


    ¡°You really need to get out more! We should get dressed and go out to a bar tonight! C¡¯mon, it would be fun!¡± Sophia continued.


    ¡°Fine.¡± Sophia wouldn¡¯t stop until she agreed, and she wasn¡¯t planning to go anywhere until she had slept for a few hours. The bright pink and yellow motel threatened to make her headache worse, so she kept her head down and her eyes focused on Sophia¡¯s feet, trying to shut out her chatter.


    She succumbed to the bed shortly after her shower.

 Chapter Three

    ¡°It¡¯s a nice night. We¡¯ll walk there and take a taxi back,¡± Sophia pronounced when she finally relinquished the tiny hotel bathroom. ¡°I found a bar about five blocks away. Not much else in this town.¡±


    Every muscle ached, but Arena followed her roommate out of the motel and into the street. The air was too chilly to be muggy, a light mist sparkling under streetlights. Hawaii didn¡¯t have a lot of fog, and Arena was still fascinated by the amount of it in California.


    Sophia wore a pale green belted top over tight blue jeans and cream-colored tall heels. Arena wondered how she would make it five blocks, but she rarely saw Sophia in flats or sneakers even when she was running across campus to class.


    Arena caught a glimpse of herself next to Sophia in a window, her head barely passing her roommate¡¯s shoulder. She tugged at the white tank top under her brown leather jacket, and hoped she would at least be comfortable. Her knee-high leather boots over dark jeans meant that Sophia was less likely to comment about her attire, as Arena preferred flip-flops. The street lamps cast a weak orange glow over everything, even reducing Sophia to a dismal pallor. The blond streak in Arena¡¯s thick, shoulder-length black hair had fallen over one side of her face, shading her features. Others back home often commented she looked a bit more Japanese than Hawaiian, though she had a more golden complexion like her father. Years of surfing had failed to improve her puny, flat physique, though she did have some definition in her shoulders.


    They had gone about three blocks when the screeching of tires startled Arena. This small California town wasn¡¯t like LA, but it was still creepy in the dark. A dark van sped past them and whipped around a corner a few blocks ahead.


    A hissing sound preceded muffled bellows, and Sophia lunged for Arena¡¯s arm. A man in dark clothes shot around the corner. But this wasn¡¯t an ordinary man, and he wasn¡¯t running. He was--flying? He was about five feet above the ground on what appeared to be a large skateboard. That can¡¯t be possible, Arena thought. But she could see clear underneath him, and he crouched on the board clutching the sides, swaying wildly, barreling straight toward them.


    ¡°We have to get out of the way!¡± Arena tugged her roommate¡¯s wrist. Sophia tried to shake her off, and Arena let go, flattening herself against the lumpy brick wall. Sophia finally pulled herself to one side, and the man on the board shot past them, yelling something indecipherable. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Sophia was transfixed by the man on the hoverboard. Arena attempted to pull her into the alleyway, but it was like moving a ton of bricks. Several men in dark suits appeared around the corner and ran past the alley, intent on the man on the hoverboard. Arena didn¡¯t think they¡¯d been seen, but she pulled herself deeper into the alley, back into the shadows.


    Pulling her phone from her pocket, she began to dial 911. A hand snatched the phone from hers, and dashed it against the ground.


    The man was in his mid-thirties, stocky and fair, with a rough beard. A scar marked one eye so it drooped slightly. ¡°There¡¯s no need for that right now, sweet thing.¡± He revealed the gun in his hand and shoved Arena against the wall. ¡°Not if you would rather have your lives instead of just a few minor injuries. Of course, anything can change, and I am not sure we want any extra witnesses.¡± He had a slight accent that Arena could not place.


    ¡°Please, just leave us alone! We won¡¯t tell anyone, I promise!¡± Arena pleaded. Sophia looked at him wide-eyed, pressed against the wall next to her.


    ¡°That¡¯s what they all say before going to the cops.¡± The man gestured at them with the gun. ¡°Of course, somebody else found out about it anyway. You could be with them. Don¡¯t want to leave a mess.¡±


    The man¡¯s head whipped up and he touched his ear. ¡°But I got two¡­ Oh, alright. I¡¯ll be right there.¡± He dropped his hand and glared at the two girls. ¡°Guess you get lucky tonight, ladies. Maybe we will meet again.¡± The man turned and took off around the corner in the direction of the others.


    After he disappeared, Sophia crossed the alley to peek around the corner. The buzzing grew louder again. When the man on the hoverboard came from the other direction, he swung abruptly into the alley, ramming into Sophia. She slumped to the ground.


    ¡°Sophia!¡± Arena shouted, starting towards her.


    The men on foot came around the corner. They fit every stereotype of mafia thugs or secret government agents--big, buff, and wearing black suits and dark ties. One of them shoved Arena back into the wall, not so much out of his way as perhaps a warning to not get involved. They followed the man on the hoverboard down the alleyway, sprinting but still lagging behind.

 Chapter Four

    Panting and a bit dazed from being shoved against the wall, Arena knelt to examine her unconscious roommate. Her chest was rising and falling, but a little blood was dripping from her forehead where the board hit her. It didn¡¯t look to be too serious, but a lump was forming around the gash.


    Arena wrapped her arms around Sophia¡¯s waist and half-carried, half-dragged her to a small 24-hour laundromat across the street. Wondering how someone so thin could be that heavy, she got Sophia inside the laundromat and slouched on a bench at the far back. There was no one inside, but it was bright and felt a little bit safer than the street. The door had a round metal handle that required a key to be locked. A camera poked out from one corner of the ceiling, then she realized the glass was smashed.


    Blocking the door was a priority, but the laundromat had obviously been designed to prevent theft. A metal bench filled with ads seemed her best option, but it was bolted to the floor. Arena suspected it had been stolen from a bus stop. Folding chairs wouldn¡¯t be heavy enough, and the washers and dryers were immovable. There was a booth for a pay phone, but upon examination she found an empty booth with the phone missing.


    For now, the street appeared to be empty. The van was still parked close to the front of the laundromat, so Arena stayed as low as possible and took off across the street. Sophia¡¯s purse peeked around the corner, the contents strewn on the ground. Arena snatched the bag, and sorted through the lipsticks and compacts until she found the phone. She touched a few screens trying to figure out how to dial. The hissing sound and the sound of running feet grew louder, and Arena started. She grabbed Sophia¡¯s wallet and stuck it in her pocket, then stood. The hoverboard zipped past her, the man on it now hanging more off than on it, his feet flailing behind him.


    The men in dark suits followed, and before they could push her out of the way, Arena slipped around the corner. She scanned down the street in the direction the man on the hoverboard had flown, and the man in the T-shirt appeared around the corner at the end of the block. The flyer crossed the street and headed for the laundromat. Arena looked panicked toward her roommate, who was spotted by the man wearing the T-shirt. He said something into his earpiece, and another man appeared from a van near the laundromat. He ran into the laundromat and picked up Sophia, dragging her toward the entrance and the van.


    Another hissing noise grew louder behind her as Arena shouted ¡°NO!¡± at the men across the street. Another man, this time in a light-colored suit, appeared from the alley on a second hoverboard. Arena leaped sideways at the hoverboard, knocking the man off. The board dropped but didn¡¯t touch the ground while Arena managed to climb on, and instinctively her body shifted on the board, controlling it like a surfboard. She wasn¡¯t about to worry about how to stop the thing. She angled the board toward the van, but the men had beaten her to it, and took off. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    The men in dark suits started running after her, shouting to give up the board, but she ignored them. They scrambled into a dark car and began to follow her, shouting out the windows and pointing guns toward her. A woman with black, curly hair in a waitress outfit ran in front the hoverboard. Arena shouted at her to move out of the way. The woman stood her ground, arms raised, and Arena shifted her weight heavily and flew around her, still aiming for the van.


    The van accelerated, and Arena tried to figure out how to go faster. Physical movement controlled the direction, but how to control speed was a mystery. She tried moving forward and back, and kneeling, but it didn¡¯t seem to help. She crouched, put one hand on the side of the board, and realized there were grooves on the side. The segment clicked upwards, and the hoverboard slowed quickly, nearly tossing her off. The car chasing her came close, so she pushed down on it, and the board sped up again. Then she stood and used her front foot to push down on the edge, and it went even faster. Ingenious, she thought. No wonder they all want it so bad. I wonder how it¡¯s powered.


    Gaining lost ground, Arena held on to one side in a low pose, urging the hoverboard faster. Light pressure applied with her toes kept the speed consistent, and transferring her weight slowly kept her balance stable. The traffic lights remained green in this tiny town, and the van remained on a straight path. Town changed into industrial outskirts, and the streetlights were scattered.


    The van made a sudden sharp left into a port area. Arena stood and turned after the van, but the arc was wide and she lost time. The car behind her missed the turn, and switched into reverse, slowing them considerably. A succession of turns made Arena feel dizzy, weaving through vehicles and giant metal boxes. She cast a quick look to the side at the sound of shouting, and saw a man aim a gun at her. Arena swerved, and ducked, crouching close to the board. The gun fired, and she felt nothing but her breath and pounding heart. She looked up to find the van had disappeared, and she raced forward, determined to find it again.


    After whipping around a stack of red containers, a dark car shot into her path. Men emerged from the car faster than she could blink. They waved guns toward her, and one fired into the air. Shifting sharply to the left, she lost her balance, and fell off the hoverboard. She hit the pavement hard, and the world went black.

 Chapter Five

    Gray filled her vision. She sat up abruptly, causing the flimsy metal cot to wobble. She steadied herself on the cement wall. An aluminum table sat in the middle of the room, with three chairs placed neatly around it. Next to the white door behind her was a giant mirror.


    ¡°Hello?¡± She scrubbed her head, and winced when her fingers found a tender lump.


    The door opened and a man entered, his spiky blond hair nearly brushing the door frame. He carried a file, and his jacket flared on one side. Arena¡¯s stomach clenched. He¡¯s armed? When he scrutinized her, Arena wondered if he wore jade-green contacts.


    ¡°Hello, Arena.¡± He pronounced it correctly as ¡°Ah-RAY-nah¡±, which was at least some points in his favor. ¡°Please sit down here, if you don¡¯t mind.¡±


    ¡°Where am I? And where¡¯s my roommate? How did I get here?¡± She panicked and ran to the door, pounding on it and then the mirror. ¡°Please, I just want my roommate back!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid we can¡¯t do anything about your roommate at this time. However, we do need to talk about you.¡± He gestured to one of the chairs by the table again, then sat down. ¡°Please?¡±


    ¡°Please just let me go home?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t do that. Not right now at least. Besides, I think you¡¯ll want to hear what I have to say, even though it might not seem like it right now. Oh! That¡¯s right, I brought something for you. I¡¯m sure you must be hungry.¡± He pulled a peach out of his jacket pocket and set it on the table. ¡°I promise it¡¯s fine. Was going to eat it myself, but I figured you needed it more than I do.¡±


    She sat carefully across from him, curling her fingers around the edges of the chair. He was right. She was starving. It had to be hours from when the chase happened. She decided that if he wanted to hurt her, he probably would have done it already, so she picked the peach up and bit into it.


    ¡°My name is Nate, by the way.¡± She was sure he was the type of guy who had women swooning all over him on a regular basis, but he held her hostage in this cement room¡ªwithout caffeine.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    The file plunked onto the table. ¡°Arena Schmidt, age 21. Junior at UCLA, major in Atmospheric Sciences.¡± His mouth quirked as he studied her. ¡°A weather geek? Sounds interesting.¡± Arena shrugged and continued to eat the peach. ¡°Straight-A student. From Molokai, Hawaii. Parents run a Japanese restaurant.¡±


    Arena¡¯s chest tightened at the thought of her parents. The last bite of peach suddenly feeling sour and heavy in her mouth. She set the pit on the table.


    ¡°Did you know you are on a CIA recruit watch list?¡± Nate eyed her contemplatively.


    ¡°What?¡± The thought occurred to her that maybe it was a lie.


    ¡°Yes, you seem to have already attracted the attention of the CIA. They were planning to recruit you some time during your senior year.¡± He ran his finger down one of the pages of the file. ¡°Now it looks to be earlier than that.¡±


    ¡°Earlier? You mean, you¡­?¡± Arena sat back in her chair, staring him down.


    He took his ID from an inside pocket and dropped it on the table in front of her. It stated ¡°Nate Johnson¡± and looked just like the IDs on television. His hair was plastered to his forehead in the picture, and he looked distinctly like he was constipated.


    ¡°It rained that day. Not my best side. I wish I could explain, but there¡¯s a lot of paperwork before that happens. Always more paperwork.¡± Nate seemed to be really working the dimples at this point. He was pretty like the guys you see in fashion magazines, posing with their shirts crumpled, one hand on their abs. ¡°Once we go to that point, you really can¡¯t go back. At least, not easily. You might not have a lot of choice in the long run anyway.¡±


    ¡°I, uh¡­ I have to go to the bathroom.¡± Maybe it would give her a chance to get out of here, or at least a moment to process.


    ¡°Oh. Right.¡± He turned and gazed at the mirror. ¡°You¡¯ll have to be escorted, of course.¡±


    The door opened and a dark, curly-haired woman entered. Arena recognized her as the waitress who tried to stop the hoverboard. Up close, the woman had buck-teeth, and was dressed somewhat oddly in a purple-flowered dress, black newsboy hat, and green stockings under laced black boots. ¡°Please come with me. It won¡¯t help to try to run because everything down here is sealed and scans are required.¡± The woman led Arena down the cement hall to a small bathroom. She was right, everything looked sealed tight, and there were touch panels at every door except the bathroom.

 Chapter Six

    Trailing her fingers along the wall as they returned to the room, Arena asked the woman. ¡°What are they going to do to me here? Do I have to join?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that bad, I promise. Quite fun, actually. And this, it¡¯s better than regular ops. That¡¯s all I can really say.¡± The woman obviously wanted to say more, but ushered her back into the room. The blond man leaned back in his chair, looking relaxed. The file lay closed on the table.


    Arena sat down fast, causing the chair to wobble. Elbows on the table, she asked, ¡°So what do you want with me?¡±


    ¡°Well, right now, we¡¯d like to give you some tests. IQ, EKG, that sort of thing. The doctor looked you over while you were asleep, but mostly to see that you didn¡¯t have a concussion or other injuries. Before we can even talk further, we have to make sure you are fit for the job. There¡¯s nothing that I don¡¯t think you couldn¡¯t handle easily.¡±


    ¡°Do I have a choice?¡±


    ¡°You always have a choice, though none of the options might seem desirable. I think they want to see what you can do.¡± Slipping the file from the table, he tapped it on his other hand, eyes steady and manner mild. ¡°Though, the circumstances in which you were brought here do seem unusual. I don¡¯t know if that can be helped anymore. From what I¡¯ve seen of the vid, you¡¯re amazing on those hoverboards.¡±


    Arena didn¡¯t know what they were going to do to her or how long they would keep her here. There was no way she could go up against a bunch of people with guns. Not finishing school wasn¡¯t an option either. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Standing up, she said, ¡°Let¡¯s go then.¡± He stood, the door opened, and the woman waved her past.


    They led her through a series of doors, each activated by a touch screen, and ended the uninspiring tour in a doctor¡¯s office filled with various pieces of equipment. Nate gave her a funny bow and walked out of the room. A tall, dark female doctor examined her, asking questions about her daily routine. She ran on a treadmill while hooked up to various sensors, under the eye of the doctor and the buck-toothed woman. After a series of other mild physical tests, the buck-toothed woman led her to a conference room with a pile of booklets.


    ¡°These are just general intelligence and logical analysis exams. You¡¯ve probably had something similar in school already.¡± She left and closed the door. Arena noticed the camera set in one corner.


    One section was all logic problems, just like the graduate school test. Another test included a list of questions asking ethical questions on what she would do if faced with someone stealing or had to save someone from drowning in a pond marked ¡°No Trespassing¡±. Arena answered them as truthfully as she could, thinking if she failed it would be a bonus, but that it might be obvious if she failed it on purpose. She didn¡¯t think she was smart enough to interest them for long anyway.


    She put down the pencil and sat back. The door opened, and the buck-toothed woman came in. ¡°We have a room ready for you. I¡¯m sorry, it¡¯s not very homey, but it should be alright to sleep for a night.¡±


    Arena followed the woman to a small cell with a cot, table, chair, sink, and a toilet that had a curtain to wrap around it. Exhausted, Arena sank on the cot and wrapped the blanket around her.

 Chapter Seven

    Nate stood at the door. ¡°Rise and shine. Time to face the paperwork.¡±


    She followed him groggily through several hallways until they entered the conference room where she had taken her tests, or at least one that looked much like it. He sat and gestured at her to follow suit. Papers were piled on the table at his elbow and he opened the file in front of him.


    ¡°Whether or not you intended to do so, you did quite well on the tests,¡± he said. Arena fought to keep her expression even. ¡°Relatively good IQ, good reflexes, strong ethical code. Plus a healthy dose of adventurousness. They already had their eye on you, though, so it wasn¡¯t much of a surprise from your file. The question now is how you want to proceed. You have two choices: you can either sign a document that you will remain silent or face charges of treason to the United States of America, or you can sign up with us and go through training to become a full agent.¡±


    Nate met her eyes, his expression grim. ¡°Before you think that might be an easy decision, if you choose to leave, you will lose your scholarships and your ability to transfer your credits to any other school will be blocked. If you choose to break the contract, you will be immediately arrested and a military trial will ensue. It¡¯s likely you would be prosecuted for stealing government technology as well as breaking your silence. You will be in prison the rest of your life, and probably in one of the worst ones. If you stay, you will finish your degree as planned, although mostly by extension, and be eligible for graduate school. And you get paid starting today.¡±


    Arena floundered as if hit by a massive wave, knocked to the bottom of the ocean and trapped underwater, unable to swim to the surface.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Nate closed the file. He pushed the pile of paper at her. ¡°When you¡¯re ready, sign the top packet if you wish to leave, and the others if you plan to stay.¡± He stood and walked out of the room.


    Growing up, Arena''s mom always insisted on perfect grades and the path to a top college. UCLA wasn''t Yale or Columbia, but it was one of the best for her chosen career. Too bad she could have just gone to Yale and become a spy. Mom would assume Arena was some fancy something or other and gotten what she wanted. Her dad never really cared; he was her biggest fan. "Go where you want, sweetheart," he used to tell her. "I''ll make sure your mother comes around."If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    If she declined, she would be left with her parents'' restaurant. They would be so disappointed in her--her mom for not having a successful career, and her dad would believe she never fulfilled her dream. She''d be stuck in Hawaii for the rest of her life. And if she did refuse, and something happened, would her family remain safe? Which was safer¡ªbeing a spy or turning the CIA down?


    And then there was Sophia. What happened to her? Was she alive? Sophia didn''t seem like she could survive against seedy motels, much less violent militants. Maybe Sophia wasn''t really a close friend, but they had been roommates for more than seven months, and Sophia did go out of her way to help Arena in her strange way.


    Training was scary, too. How would they train her? Would she have to immediately leave for wherever they trained spies? Arena knew that she was a capable enough surfer, and if they really wanted her to ride these hoverboards, she could manage, but carrying a gun and shooting at people was another matter entirely.


    Part of her admitted being a spy sounded exciting. When she planned out her life, she never imagined that was even a possibility. Sure, she had seen spy movies and TV shows, and all the running and the explosions surely were glamorized, but she was in the middle of the mission to recover the hoverboards, and it had been very dangerous. Exhilarating, yes, but deadly. She rubbed her shoulder unconsciously, remembering the man with the scar and the scent of cigarette smoke.


    Espionage did have a certain intellectual quotient. She liked meteorology because, in at least a little, you were trying to figure out the mysteries of the universe¡ªknowledge of hurricanes and tornadoes could save thousands of lives. She was sure that the CIA did similar things to protect the lives of others, just without the acknowledgment of the public. Being a spy was something like standing on the south shore fending off a hurricane with a $2 poncho and an umbrella.


    Trapped, the only way to redeem her reputation and discover what happened to Sophia was through the paperwork. She pushed the packet off the top and read the first page underneath. Slowly she worked her way through all the paperwork, and when she finished she sat back, tears streaming down her face.


    She¡¯d signed her life away.

 Chapter Eight

    The buck-toothed woman appeared in the door and motioned her out, collecting the paper as she went. She handed it to a big goon in a black suit, and directed Arena in the opposite direction. She took Arena to a room with a computer to muddle through her first batch of CIA homework. Arena was sure there was nothing really secret on the tutorials, which outlined basic protocol. Most of it was common sense.


    The woman reappeared and said ¡°By the way, I¡¯m Lorna. You can come with me now. Your paperwork all checks out. You¡¯re going to meet the rest of the gang.¡±


    They walked through more corridors and entered a hallway that suddenly looked very different from the cement bunker of the others. The rooms were infused with warmth, decorated in neutral colors and softly lighted panels. Some walls were burgundy or other deep, rich colors. The hallway opened to a common area with plush sofas and a plasma television, and Lorna led Arena around a corner into a large conference room filled with people.


    Nate leaned against one wall, grinning broadly at her. He was now wearing a dark-blue T-shirt and jeans. Most of the others were casually dressed.


    ¡°I think you will find you made the right choice,¡± Nate said. ¡°I know it¡¯s scary now, but it will get easier.¡±


    A woman with lurid red hair dressed in a shocking purple and fuchsia muumuu ran up to Arena and grabbed her by the shoulders. ¡°Oh, my dear! I¡¯m so glad you decided to join us! Aren¡¯t you just adorable! We get so few new people, and you seem to have so much potential!¡± Being shaken to death by a Hawaiian tourist look-alike was not how Arena imagined her death.


    ¡°I¡¯m Harriet! I want you to meet my husband George.¡± Harriet gestured toward an ordinary-looking man in a pink and yellow Hawaiian shirt, wearing a beige hat with a pink hatband. He nodded at her with a pained expression. Harriet continued almost immediately, ¡°We sort of lead this merry little band. We look forward to getting to know you better and seeing you all trained up! That hoverboard ride you took was simply marvelous!¡±This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Harriet began guiding Arena around the room by the shoulder. Her grip was vice-like. ¡°You¡¯ve met Nate and Lorna, of course. I hope they weren¡¯t too terribly harsh on you. It¡¯s all supposed to be protocol, you know. The CIA likes that sort of stuff, and we have to vid and send your application process. Must be boring for some analyst to sit and watch!¡±


    Harriet let her to a slightly plump Hispanic girl. ¡°This is Anita. She works with all our computers and security stuff.¡± The girl looked as if she would bolt from the room at any second. Arena smiled at her, but the girl¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change except for a nearly imperceptible nod.


    Then Harriet led her to a huge woman with a frightening expression. The woman eyed Arena and said flatly, ¡°I¡¯m Big Bertha.¡± Arena wasn¡¯t sure if that was a joke or her real name. Her dark, dramatic eye makeup matched her cropped black hair and black clothing.


    The last person was standing behind Bertha, leaning against a door frame. Arena was short at five feet tall, but he was at least six inches shorter. His expression challenged her to say something about it. He had dark brown, curly hair and bright blue eyes which seemed to search her for any sign of a failure. Harriet suddenly spun away to talk to her husband.


    ¡°I¡¯m Arena.¡± She didn¡¯t really know what else to say.


    ¡°Yes, everyone knows who you are.¡± His voice was rich and deep, like a radio announcer on an old-time radio show. Arena opened her mouth, but he continued, ¡°I have strong reservations to your usefulness on this team, so you should not expect lenience. None of us have spare time for indulgence.¡±


    ¡°Whoever would think this would be easy?¡± she blurted, fury blended with irritation and exhaustion. ¡°Obviously, if I¡¯m here you don¡¯t think I¡¯m too stupid. It¡¯s not like you people gave me much choice in the matter!¡±


    Arena thought he would argue more, but he simply said, ¡°Indeed.¡± As he turned and walked out the door, she heard, ¡°Welcome to the Misfits.¡±

 Chapter Nine

    Arena spent the rest of the day working through computer tutorials on more specific protocols and basic history of the CIA. Lorna brought her sandwiches, apples, and bottles of water. At the end of the day, Nate came to get her. ¡°You¡¯re in luck. You get to learn combat from me. Firearms, basic martial arts, how to protect yourself--that sort of thing.¡±


    He lead her to an open room decorated like a dojo, with tatami mats and a few weapons racks. She took off her shoes automatically before stepping on the tatami. He did the same. ¡°You probably read in your tutorials about code names. Most people choose their codename, but sometimes they are assigned. Code names shouldn¡¯t have any logical identifier in them, such as based on looks. We use them on missions to talk to one another, but so it¡¯s not always clear who is talking to whom unless you are part of the group. Mine is ¡®Atticus¡¯. I am a little bit of a Roman literature buff. George decided to assign you the codename ¡®Cyclone¡¯. Bertha¡¯s is ¡®Goldilocks¡¯.¡± That was definitely contradictory. Nate went on, ¡°Unfortunately, you are going to get the short course on training, because as far as we know, you¡¯re the only person in the CIA who can ride the hoverboards without getting tossed instantly. We¡¯re going to have to grill you on how you learned to control it later.¡±


    ¡°Can I ask a few questions first?¡± Arena sunk to the floor. The whole day was starting to wear on her, too much unsorted information in too little time.


    Nate seated himself in one swift movement. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m sure this is all a bit overwhelming. Sure, go ahead. I¡¯ll answer what I can.¡±


    ¡°What do you do in the group? And why do they call it ¡®The Misfits¡¯?¡±


    ¡°I was a regular field agent, and I didn¡¯t follow orders on a particular mission. This is actually my ¡®punishment¡¯.¡± Arena was puzzled. ¡°You¡¯ll find that¡¯s not really a big secret around here, nor is it a liability. They all seem to have ended up here the same way.¡± He folded his hands, leaning toward her. ¡°The Misfits is what pretty much everybody calls this unit, although the technical name is the Special Technology Advanced Tactical Unit Service, or STATUS. Mostly, we recover technology that¡¯s been stolen from the government, or in the case of the hoverboards, developed by some college students, and stolen by another agency. As you might have noticed, most of the people in the group are a bit unusual. Despite the name, they are usually pretty effective, even if most of the CIA wouldn¡¯t like to admit it. I¡¯m honestly not where sure where the Misfits name came about, whether internally or from people in the CIA. They seem pretty proud of it, though.¡±


    Nate seemed exactly the type of person the CIA would want. She wondered what he did to earn a spot in the Misfits. ¡°What is everyone else¡¯s codenames?¡±


    ¡°Lorna is Deadeye. Harriet is Lester. Who knows why she picked that? George is Silo. Anita doesn¡¯t use one, as she usually isn¡¯t in comms on missions. Mostly they call her Homebase. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever heard her speak on comms when she is. She mostly types stuff on our handhelds.¡± Nate shifted in his seat. ¡°And Sterling is Catalyst.¡±


    ¡°Sterling?¡± she asked.


    ¡°He didn¡¯t introduce himself? I dunno what he said to you earlier, but don¡¯t take it personally. You get used to him. He¡¯s the analyst for the group. Amazing researcher. I dunno how he finds stuff out sometimes. He doesn¡¯t normally come on missions, but he usually runs the comms.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°What about the guys in black suits? Where are they? Aren¡¯t they part of the group? They don¡¯t really look like misfits.¡± All the questions and answers made Arena even more confused.


    Nate startled her by laughing. ¡°You mean the Decoys.¡± He tried to stifle the laughter at Arena¡¯s expression. ¡°The Decoys are somewhat equivalent to our hired help, I guess. We run the operations, and they provide backup if we need it, and sometimes we use them to fool the opposition into thinking that¡¯s who they should be chasing, hence their name.¡± He chuckled and ran a hand through his spiky blond hair. ¡°Sort of like the big dumb guy in all the spy movies. They¡¯re combat trained, but not all are real good at knowing what to do next. Mostly, we make them run around like mad.¡±


    That certainly seemed what they were doing while chasing the hoverboard. Arena realized Lorna must have been running the operation, and the Decoys were doing most of the work for her.


    ¡°Sometimes we all work together, but more often one or two of us will run an op with a group of Decoys. It depends on how big the operation is and how much we think we can get away with at the time.¡±


    ¡°So you guys have all sorts of cool gadgets?¡±


    ¡°Not as many as you might think, except what Sterling or Anita design. The CIA takes the rest, and we never see them again.¡±


    Arena had a lot more questions, but her body was starting to go to sleep without her brain. Nate seemed to recognize this. ¡°Hey, let¡¯s just call it a night, tonight. I¡¯ll take you to your room and you can get some sleep. We have a few weeks of training to get through and you can ask me questions any time you want.¡±


    He led her down a narrow hall with doors on each side. ¡°Some people live here, others don¡¯t. It¡¯s up to you after you go through official training, which for you probably won¡¯t be until this summer. I live here, but I didn¡¯t have a steady place to live before I came here. Lorna lives here. I think she just likes it too much to leave. Anita doesn¡¯t, but she stays here when something is crucial. And Sterling lives here.¡±


    Suddenly Arena realized spring break would be over in a few days. ¡°What about school? I have a paper due Monday! I need to get through the year. I can¡¯t fail now!¡±


    ¡°Sterling¡¯s taken care of that. You¡¯re on a special leave to study weather patterns in the Arctic. I know, a bit trite, right? Professors seem to like trite though. You¡¯ll have a thesis due on that in June, so not all fun and games. Sterling got you out of the rest for full credit. Let¡¯s just say we have some connections at UCLA.¡± Taking her wrist, he placed her hand on the panel. A small light on it turned green, and he pushed open the door. ¡°They plan to let you finish your senior year through extension, thesis, and intensive classes. Depends on how long you stay in training. You have to have a college degree to be a full agent, but there have been rare exceptions.¡±


    He stopped at a room marked with her name and grabbed her wrist. She let him place her hand on the panel by the door. He gestured into the room, which resembled a decent hotel room, with a bed, desk, table, big-screen TV, and small bathroom in neutral colors. ¡°Good beds. Cable is limited. Lots of news. They don¡¯t want us spending too much time watching TV, I guess. Dunno why, since we can watch nearly everything else on our netbooks. You can feed the netbook screen into the tv if you want. There should be an icon on the desktop for that. I left some books for you to start reading, mostly on covert espionage. Whether you like it or not, we¡¯ve got to work fast, so you will have to do ¡®homework¡¯.¡±


    Arena nodded. She didn¡¯t really expect anything less. ¡°Thank you. I will have them read as fast as possible. Good night?¡±


    ¡°Good night. Meet in the common area at 7:30am if you want to eat. There¡¯s a little dining room off that,¡± he said, and he pulled the door shut.


    Arena took a long shower, something she had missed in the past two days, and found her own clothing in the dresser. She read half a chapter of one of the books before falling fast asleep.

 Chapter Ten

    The bright light of the dining room startled her awake. Much like any hotel breakfast area, food was stacked on counters, as well as a microwave and toaster. Lorna sat reading a book. Three more books sat on the table, along with a couple piles of papers. She reached out an arm and swept the stack to one side so Arena could sit down.


    ¡°Tough day, yesterday, eh? I wish I could say it gets better, but it will be a few months before that happens.¡± Lorna was voraciously eating an egg on top of a piece of cantaloupe, with ketchup and peanuts sprinkled over it. It was so odd Arena felt a little ill. The meal about matched her outfit, which was a black skirt over lime-green tights and a red and white striped shirt, and long dangly red and green earrings. Arena had the impression of a Christmas elf. She flashed a giant smile. ¡°Did Nate teach you anything fun?¡±


    Arena smeared cream cheese onto a sesame bagel and bit into it, trying not to look at the cantaloupe. ¡°Not really. Mostly he just answered my dumb questions. I am still trying to understand how everything works.¡± She took a sip of coffee and her eyes watered. Tar would have been a charming description.


    ¡°That¡¯s okay. There will probably be a lot of physical training. He¡¯s really good at combat ops. One of the best I¡¯ve seen. Has like three black belts and stuff. Each of us has a little different specialty, you know. Though I suspect you might take more after him with the physical stuff, what with the surfing and all.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your specialty?¡± Arena already suspected the answer.


    ¡°Covert ops,¡± Lorna said. ¡°I like spying on people. Dressing up. Wearing costumes. Playing the idiot.¡± She grinned. ¡°I really like playing the idiot. Might surprise you, but Nate¡¯s actually a pretty good master of disguise, too. He¡¯s fooled more than one person he¡¯s known for years.¡±


    Sterling entered the room, gave them both a piercing look, and grabbed a banana and a cup of yogurt from the fridge. He turned and walked out without a word. Arena swallowed slowly, uncertain what to think of him. She hoped they wouldn¡¯t have to work together very much, at least in training.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mind him,¡± Lorna comforted. ¡°It takes him a while to warm up to people. He¡¯s protective of the group, and he gets afraid that a new person is going to mess it up. Work hard, show you can be part of the team, and you¡¯ll win him over. He still hasn¡¯t accepted Nate yet, and you might beat Nate to that task.¡±The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Because Nate was a field agent?¡±


    ¡°Oh, he told you about that, did he?¡± Lorna looked up for a moment, wobbling back and forth on her chair. ¡°Yes, but more because of the politics of the CIA than Nate himself. There¡¯s always a good chance they will cut us just because they don¡¯t like us, or send someone in to mess it up from the inside. I think Sterling is afraid they will stick us all in dark rooms sorting through files and never let us out again.¡±


    Nate came in at that moment, flashed a smile at both of them, and grabbed a banana, apple, pear, a cereal cup, and milk carton. He sat down at the table, oblivious to everything else that was on it.


    ¡°Good morning, ladies. Sleep well?¡± he asked, winking at both of them. He took a large bite of the pear. Juice ran down through the dimple in his chin. He swiped it off with the back of his hand.


    ¡°Perfectly lovely,¡± Lorna answered.


    Arena just nodded. She had slept exceptionally well, exhausted beyond her brain¡¯s capability to worry about everything that was happening. Nate was right, the beds were amazing. Must be that expensive foam. Much better than the dorm or her futon at home.


    ¡° ¡®Fraid to tell you we start off on combat after breakfast normally, and will for a few weeks.¡± Nate managed to eat all three pieces of fruit in about a minute while speaking without appearing to chew. ¡°Then you¡¯ll do computer training simulations, then you get an hour and a half for lunch, but you¡¯re expected to do some of that reading during that time. Then more combat practice. Then dinner, then you¡¯ll work with a member of the team for an hour or two on various tasks. But today, you get an early reprieve because they need you to explain how the hoverboards work. Fun with Sterling.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t scare her too much! We need her!¡± Lorna chutted and swiped at his arm. She turned to Arena. ¡°How do they work, anyway? I¡¯ve been dying to know? It¡¯s like surfing?¡±


    Arena nodded, looking at Nate in case she wasn¡¯t supposed to say anything. But he leaned forward, also anxious to learn. ¡°Yes, very much like surfing, but it seemed a lot smoother to me. You just use your body to shift the board and turn. Then there¡¯s a section on the side you push with your foot to make it go faster or slower. It¡¯s really not complicated. Maybe there¡¯s more you can do with it, but I didn¡¯t really have a chance to find out. I--I just wanted my roommate back.¡±


    ¡°Well, the complicated part comes in that most of us don¡¯t have the ability to surf like you do,¡± Nate frowned. ¡°I¡¯m sure there are people in the CIA that can surf, but not many who know about the technology already. They don¡¯t like telling any more people than they have to. Plus, you were already on the recruit list. I wish we had a board to practice with.¡±


    ¡°What about the one I was on?¡± Arena looked confused.


    Lorna answered, ¡°The CIA snatched that one away almost immediately and sent it to the labs to be taken apart to try to figure out how it works.¡± She groaned and rolled her eyes. ¡°Probably never get it back together again.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s supposed to be two more prototype boards out there,¡± said Nate. ¡°You saw one of them. We don¡¯t know where the last one is.¡±

 Chapter Eleven

    Arena froze before the door to Sterling¡¯s office, her stomach turning somersaults. Did he intimidate her that much? It¡¯s not like she really knew him.


    A window framed a high-tech office with all sorts of monitors and a wraparound desk filled with piles of paper. There were some surprising touches, photos of what must be his parents and one of the Misfits as a group. She pushed open the door. He pointed at a chair and commanded, ¡°Sit¡±, barely glancing from the screen.


    ¡°We¡¯ve watched the vids and compared it to vids of surfers. You controlled the board with a surfer¡¯s physical vocabulary. Pressure on a side segment makes it decelerate and accelerate.¡± He stated this with a matter-of-fact tone, still looking at the screen. Arena wasn¡¯t sure why they needed her if they already knew what she did with the hoverboard.


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s smoother than surfing. Probably easier than staying on a board in the water,¡± she responded, trying to add something useful.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t change elevation, though. Was there a control for that?¡± He turned toward her, his hands poised over the keyboard.


    ¡°Not that I could tell, but mostly I wanted to go forward and faster.¡± She played back the flight in her mind, trying to remember any small detail. There wasn¡¯t a ridge on the other side that indicated a control like the flap of the speed control. There was a fin on the back on the top, in a dark color. The rest of the board was smooth and white. She shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t remember anything else but the fin. I don¡¯t think the fin had any purpose, though, which is a bit weird.¡±The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°I looked at the vids over and over, but they are pretty grainy. I couldn¡¯t see anything else. No one but you got a close look at it.¡± Sterling scowled. ¡°Since we are not certain how the hoverboards are powered, perhaps the fin has some significance there.¡¯


    ¡°It looked like a cheap plastic fin, like on some training surfboards, except it was on the top. Fins are for stability in the water, so they¡¯d be useless on the top. Maybe it¡¯s just to hold.¡± Shrugging, she asked, ¡°What about the lab?¡±


    His scowled deepened into a mask of rage, and she sat back in her chair, gulping in air.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to wing it,¡± he said tightly. ¡°If you can think of anything else, let me know immediately. At your first opportunity, write down everything that happened with as much detail as possible. Even small things might be important.¡±


    Arena frantically replayed the chase in her mind, then nodded. He continued, ¡°Starting next week, we will have an indoor surf simulator. I want you to give Nate and Lorna lessons on it. The more people we have trained to fly that thing, even a little, the easier chance we might have of getting another one away from the opposition.¡±


    She opened her mouth, and then shut it again. It might be easier to ask Nate all her questions. He saw, and said ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I-I¡­ well, I wanted¡­ who is this opposition anyway?¡±


    Arena expected for him to snap or yell, but he took a deep breath and said, ¡°We¡¯re not sure yet. Far as we can tell, they¡¯re not any group that¡¯s already on our radar. Recovering the hoverboards is our priority as far as that is the general purpose of our unit, but this new group has become more worrisome both for us and for the CIA. It may very well be an established group that just has some new players, but it appears to be someone completely new. We need to handle both problems as quickly as possible and we need to understand what they want with the hoverboards.¡± She nodded and looked at the door.


    ¡°Go.¡± he said. ¡°Let Nathaniel beat the crap out of you. I¡¯m sure it will be a blast.¡±


    He spun back to the monitors.

 Chapter Twelve

    ¡°Again,¡± Nate said. Arena swept her foot back and tried to clip his ankle as he held her shoulders, then she tried to drop straight down through his arms. They were practicing holds and how to escape them, which was tiring and sometimes confusing. He claimed that her size had advantages, and she might be able to wriggle out of holds easier than someone taller, but he was immovable.


    That morning, she ran three miles on a treadmill, then lifted weights before he taught her a few basic holds. He told her that they would have to accelerate some of her physical training, but surfing gave her a strength advantage in the upper body that many women were lacking during physical training. Hopefully, room service included a professional masseuse, but she would settle for a bath and some ibuprofen.


    He¡¯s a good teacher, though, Arena thought. Fair, straightforward, and notices when I¡¯m not getting something quite right. He¡¯d probably be good at teaching kids.


    They did the hold one more time, and afterward she collapsed to the mat in exhaustion. Nate sat on the mat, cross-legged. He hadn¡¯t even broken a sweat. She wondered what he did to stay in shape. He was ripped, though slim like martial artists in action movies.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    ¡°What kind of martial arts is this?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Mostly Judo,¡± he said. ¡°Judo is mostly about holds and how to get out of them. Everything is close contact. Many martial arts that deal with kicking are simply not practical in most combat situations. They look cool, but are not too helpful against people with guns. Some of the moves are traditional, and some are more modern combat variations.¡±


    ¡°Guns? How does Judo protect against guns?¡± She didn¡¯t want to face any more guns.


    ¡°When your opponent has a hold on you, they are paying more attention to you than their gun. It¡¯s easier to get it away from them, or at least the gun away from you. I¡¯ll be teaching you some of that later.¡± He stood and offered her a hand. ¡°Ready for dinner? You¡¯ve got time to shower first.¡±


    She let him pull her up. ¡°You said I would usually met with someone after dinner? Who will I meet with tonight?¡±


    ¡°Tonight, Lorna is going to teach you a little about covert operations. I think it will be Anita tomorrow night.¡± They walked through the hallways toward their rooms.


    ¡°Anita?¡± Arena was puzzled. ¡°What will Anita teach me?¡±


    ¡°They need to get you tech¡¯d up. Get your stats, teach you to use the comms, things like that. Some of that you¡¯ll need for training, and also in case we have to run out fast.¡±


    Arena hoped Anita would at least talk to her, but she¡¯d worry about that tomorrow.

 Chapter Thirteen

    ¡°The Misfits makes use of the fact that people are easily blinded by their own preconceptions and misconceptions of what spies should look like and who they think is a reasonable opponent,¡± Lorna laid out a popular fashion magazine between them on the table. She leafed through a few pages, and swept her hand over a layout with a number of people posing in a park, an ad for some clothing line. ¡°Is this real? Is what we perceive as what we should buy actually true?¡±


    ¡°Ads are never real, and even article photos in magazines are often faked. But it¡¯s not like that¡¯s a surprise to most people.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve built billion-dollar industries out of telling people what they want, and millions goes into advertising every year on how to best fool them into believing it.¡± She turned a few more pages, and pointed at a model holding a makeup compact. ¡°Much of what¡¯s advertised is also to hide our own flaws and problems. So we capitalize that on the Misfits. People who are different are considered ineffective. People who can¡¯t hide their shortcomings are not considered a threat. A lot of spies rely on being unobtrusive, but we flat out flaunt the fact that we¡¯re different, and those we try to get information from put us on an even lower level than the ones they don¡¯t notice. They don¡¯t believe we¡¯re even capable of being a threat, and they misstep more than they might with someone they simply don¡¯t know.¡±


    Many tourists and non-locals in Hawaii that believed money and expensive clothes bought them the right to trash everyone else. For that matter, college students were pretty much the same way. If you didn¡¯t have the goods, then you must be subservient.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°So, perhaps I could pretend to not speak English, or speak it very poorly?¡± asked Arena. ¡°I speak Japanese without an accent, so if someone did know Japanese, they could speak to me easily enough.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s one possibility,¡± said Lorna. ¡°It will probably depend on the situation and where the mission is located. You may even be able to just play dumb college student, too. That appears to be what your roommate was doing.¡±


    Arena jumped. ¡°Sophia? What do you mean?¡±


    Lorna was smug. ¡°You didn¡¯t see it did you? Not in the least. She was rooming with you because she was assigned to recruit you to the CIA.¡±


    ¡°Nate said they were planning to recruit me next year. She would have been graduated by then.¡± Arena was even more confused.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what the plan was, but she was planning to go to grad school, wasn¡¯t she? Maybe she was going to ask you to room again. I really don¡¯t know. We believe she had a handler on campus, and it¡¯s clearly in her file that you were part of her assignment there. Unfortunately, the departments don¡¯t like to talk to each other all that much, so there¡¯s not much more we can find out. Another unit is assigned to her recovery.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s in real danger, isn¡¯t she?¡± Arena was trying to work through all the pieces of information, but her heavy heart was blocking the way.


    ¡°We don¡¯t really know. They might know her background, or they might not. She may just be a bargaining chip. Or maybe they want to turn her. Make her a double agent or just recruit her entirely. Getting her back has become a top priority, but it¡¯s still not as much of a priority as recovering the other two hoverboards.¡±


    Lorna closed the magazine and dug out a flash drive. She pulled out a new netbook and pushed both toward Arena. ¡°These are to help you study. I set you up an internal email address as well, and loaded the flash drive with some videos and other resources. You might want to look them over; we¡¯ll be talking about all this again.¡±

 Chapter Fourteen

    Her learning sessions on the computer and the other agents were as intense as the physical sessions with Nate. She learned how to disarm an attacker, pick a lock, and use a range of technical equipment. On top of her other physical training, she ran five miles a day and her sessions with the computer simulations became more difficult. Flipping Nate over her shoulder made her feel better about not escaping his Judo holds, even if she could only flip him because he let her. Still, she hoped she was capable of coping with dangerous situations.


    Anita proved genuine and professional in their private session. She had a soft, melodic voice, and once she started talking about tech, she not only was an expert, but passionate about it. She fitted Arena for a custom earpiece, and explained the assortment of gadgets they used on missions for listening at far distances, planting bugs, and communicating with one another. Arena tried to pay attention, but her interest kept wandering to the screens, all flashing rapidly changing information. How did Anita kept up with all of it?


    After meeting with Anita, Arena wandered into the empty dojo. She picked up a staff from the weapons rack, and began swinging it around, not sure what to do with it. Finally, she placed it back on the rack and sank down on the tatami. The person in the mirror looked alien to anyone she knew. She was sinewy, grim, and her eyes were puffy and dark.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    The only thing Arena was really good at was riding the hoverboards. Surely that skill can¡¯t be special for very long¡ªshe was already training Nate and Lorna, and there must be other agents in the CIA who knew how to surf. Why did they want to recruit her before she interrupted the hoverboard mission? How did they find people, or were they that desperate for new agents? The job was stable and had benefits, but it certainly wasn¡¯t going to make her rich and the danger quotient was literally unfathomable.


    The fact that she kept up with the training surprised her. She ached at night and even more the next day, but not much more than surfing. However, she hadn¡¯t even gotten to paramilitary training or shooting. Jumping from a plane didn¡¯t precisely terrify her, but it wasn¡¯t something she sought out to do, either. Nobody would let her have a gun yet. What if that made a difference in a mission? Could she keep up? Could they, if they were spending all their time trying to protect her?


    The Misfits were not what she expected spies to be. How different were other units? Was the pressure worse? Would she have a choice in going to another unit or staying with the Misfits? She genuinely liked most of them, and she felt comfortable there much more than she believed she would be. She tried to stay angry about the tactics with which she was recruited, but it became a burden more strenuous than the actual training.


    Would the undertow be stronger than her will to survive?

 Chapter Fifteen

    The next week Nate led Arena to the pool where a wave simulator had been stationed in one corner. Arena had used them before, but they didn¡¯t seem as much fun as the ocean. Not only were the mechanics different, but there was something metaphysical about confronting the magnitude of the ocean.


    Lorna waited for them, wearing a purple wetsuit. A wetsuit certainly wasn¡¯t necessary for a simulator, but Lorna liked the idea of dressing up for everything. Arena had yet to see her wear the same thing twice and most outfits she wore frequently clashed.


    Nate wore army-green board shorts and looked like a model out of a magazine. His easygoing personality and sincerity belied his profession. He also didn¡¯t seem like the type to go against an order, so her curiosity about his assignment to the Misfits grew.


    ¡°We should probably have you practice on land before the simulator.¡± After showing them how to stand and how to turn, she got into the simulator and demonstrated, yelling instructions over the sound of the water.


    Nate made his first attempt and fell spectacularly, the board flying into the air and nearly knocking Arena in the head. Lorna jumped out of the way. He landed hard, water kicking up right into his face. Climbing out, he was coughing and laughing at the same time.


    ¡°You make it look so easy!¡± he said. ¡°I didn¡¯t think I would fall off that fast, but I was wrong.¡±


    Lorna tried next and managed to stay up a few seconds before losing her balance and jumping off into the water. She splashed water at them before retrieving the board and trying again. This time she fell immediately. Arena told her that she was too stiff the second time, anticipating the fall. Keeping her legs softer would help her to balance and control the board.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    After a couple of hours, both could stay up for about fifteen seconds. Arena was beginning to think that maybe the simulator wasn¡¯t the most effective replacement for the hoverboards, because it required greater movement with less effort, so she brought that up. Learning would be easier with gentle waves where the rider angled a longer board toward the shore and let the wave carry the board.


    ¡°It¡¯s sort of like driving an automatic car,¡± she explained. ¡°The car has mechanics that use less effort to create the motion. You don¡¯t have to turn the wheel as hard to get a larger effect. It just needs to be smooth. A board in the water is much more challenging to move than a hoverboard. The hoverboard takes mostly gentle movements, but it¡¯s much less likely that you will be tossed if you are going straight. Sharp turns are the most difficult thing on the hoverboards.¡±


    Nate cast a glance at Lorna. ¡°We could make it a competition? Besides, wouldn¡¯t the higher level of difficulty make riding the hoverboards easier in the long run?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps. There aren¡¯t any good surfing beaches around?¡± Both of them shrugged.


    ¡°It¡¯s too cold.¡± Lorna put up her fists toward Nate. ¡°I accept your challenge!¡±


    The location of the compound was still a mystery to Arena and nobody answered her questions about it. Washington DC or nearby seemed the most likely location.


    Dinner that night was some sort of chicken and vegetable dish. Once in a while Arena saw the woman in charge of the eating area, but she kept the room immaculate and well stocked. Often, the other agents who didn¡¯t live at the compound still stayed to eat and Arena got to know some of them better. Bertha turned out to be quite a softy once Arena had spent her evening with her learning about the basic organization of the CIA. She was very direct, but her appearance made her seem more intimidating than she was.

 Chapter Sixteen

    Harriet and George returned claiming they had accomplished whatever mission they had been attempting, but did not elaborate. Harriet seemed to take a liking to Arena, but Arena thought ¡®Cyclone¡¯ was a better codename for Harriet than herself. Harriet was overwhelming in every sense. Nobody could get a word in edgewise while she was around, and Arena began to understand why George was so quiet. When he did speak, he was concise and a bit sharp, probably from years of trying to talk over her.


    This night, Arena was stabbing a spear of asparagus with her fork when she sensed someone staring at her. She figured it was Sterling. He rarely approached her unless for a specific reason. Arena spent most of her time with Nate and Lorna and was beginning to grow comfortable with both of them. They both liked to joke and tease, and eating meals with them became the highlight of her day. Sterling never sat with them, though Lorna tried to invite him on occasion.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°So I told him I was actually the daughter of the President, and the idiot actually believed me!¡± Lorna often told them stories of her training. Arena sometimes found her stories hard to believe, but seeing as Lorna seemed to be unconcerned with any standard of normality, they were probably true.


    Lorna¡¯s handheld beeped. ¡°Oh! I''m supposed to be a on a vidcall with the CIA lab in ten minutes. I¡¯d better go! By the way, Arena, you¡¯re with Sterling tonight.¡±


    Lorna hurried off, and as Arena watched her go, she glanced over at Sterling, who was still staring at her. He abruptly got up and left.

 Chapter Seventeen

    Sterling waited for her in his office. She sat without being asked, too tired to care whether he wanted her to sit there or not. He didn¡¯t flinch.


    ¡°So far, I could not get the CIA lab to tell me how the hoverboard operates. We know there was a vent, but it was not enough propulsion to hold itself up, much less a rider. So maybe a combination of things, like magnets?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re right, there wasn¡¯t much air, and more came from the top than the bottom. Seemed like it was more of a fan than a support.¡±


    ¡°A fan? You might very well be right. Computers use fans to cool their systems. Perhaps the air being released is part of the coolant system.¡±


    ¡°It did seem awfully stable,¡± she said. ¡°Smoother than a car¡ªvery few bumps. The turns were hard to navigate. It almost slipped on the turns. Like a kayak--it felt like it was going to flip over.¡±


    Sterling seemed like the best person to ask. ¡°I wondered what the hoverboards would be used for? Why does everyone want them?¡±


    ¡°There is admittedly quite a bit of competition to be the first with certain tech. The hover technology could be used not only in commercial projects, but in also for covert operations like avoiding sensitive pressure floors, laser defense systems, traversing water, and sneaking without being detected. We might not be able to do all those things with it yet, but it seems like a pretty workable model, as you found out. It did not have a lot of sound and suggested adequate speed, as you discovered. We¡¯re still not sure about the altitude.¡±


    ¡°What about the students that developed it?¡±


    He rubbed his face. ¡°Dead. One died in the extraction.¡± He swallowed. ¡°P-parts of the other were found. Their notes are gone. We are not just looking for the boards themselves, but the technical documents. We think that the students must have been near completion. Or maybe they felt they could do better with the documents and took them to their own scientists.¡±


    Arena¡¯s throat closed, and she sat white-knuckled on the chair, much like her initial meeting with Nate. She reminded herself to take deep breaths through her nose. ¡°Are these boards so valuable that people kill others to get them?¡± It seemed like a neat invention, but not a miracle.


    Sterling¡¯s expression softened. ¡°Who knows why people do the things they do just to get a little more ahead, if at all? Unfortunately, most of our job as technology recovery revolves around situations such as these. I wish we could be more proactive, but most of the time when chatter goes up, it¡¯s right before detonation.¡± He turned fully toward her. ¡°The hoverboard is a minor problem, though. The real question is who is the other group trying to acquire it? They are the priority over retrieving the hoverboards, but as we are going for the same piece of technology, it stands to reason we will meet them again through the process of finding the remaining hoverboards.¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Arena looked at her hands. This was so much more complicated than she realized.


    ¡°You are also meeting with me tonight to discuss basic analysis for our missions,¡± he said, pushing a button on the keyboard. The screens began to show a grainy video of a man meeting with another.


    His deep voice rumbled over the images on the screen. ¡°Many missions involve getting the trust of someone already involved in the group in which we are investigating. We also investigate physical information ourselves, but we find that information in many different ways.¡± Sterling brought up a picture of Facebook, and turned to her with a smirk. ¡°Recognize this? You¡¯d think people would use more secretive means, but the sheer amount of information that goes through social networking sites means that it¡¯s really hard to find who is saying what. We caught one group who liked to leave coded messages in netspeak to each other, disguised at fifteen-year-old students. Who knew a school dance could be a code for a drop point?¡± Then Sterling did something rather surprising--he grinned widely. ¡°Well, I did.¡±


    ¡°See, a lot of groups like to use things that don¡¯t hint of encryption. Put some heavy locks and curtains on something and everybody is going to know it¡¯s worth. It¡¯s a giant billboard screaming ¡®Hack Me!¡¯ Put it out in the open and people don¡¯t look at it twice.¡±


    He pulled up an image of a popular multiplayer video game. ¡°This is what we like to use. We¡¯ve got a guild and everything. You can play on the side if you like. We use the guild notice board to leave messages to one another. Works quite well, and with 200 other guilds on the server, nobody regards our small guild of middling characters. It¡¯s more fun than leaving notes in some classified listing, like the old-school spies used to do. Here¡¯s a list of the codes we use.¡± He pushed a flash drive toward her. ¡°Memorize them tonight, because there¡¯s a virus in it that will eat it up by tomorrow.¡±


    He tossed her a smartphone. ¡°The game is called ¡®Absolute Imperium¡¯. It should have an icon, and I already set up your account. You just have to sign in and create a character. I¡¯ll find you and give you an invite to our guild. Your handheld is linked to mine and to Anita¡¯s so we will know everything you do with it and where it is at all times.¡± Arena wasn¡¯t sure if that was a warning or a reassurance. Probably both.


    Arena was familiar with the game, since she had a former roommate that played it obsessively. Arena always wondered how she managed to keep her grades up while playing. The roommate had explained the game on occasion, and even made a character for Arena, but Arena preferred to study instead.


    ¡°Do you have any questions?¡± Sterling asked.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it hard to play on a computer this small?¡± Arena examined the handheld.


    ¡°We¡¯ve made a few modifications on to make the controls smoother. You can just tilt it to move. And it is voice--enabled, so to leave a message or chat, just press that side button and talk. You can whisper. It¡¯s pretty sensitive. Anita and I tried to make the game as friendly to the use of the handhelds as possible.¡± He typed into his keyboard and brought up a desktop screen. A new icon popped into existence on it. ¡°Your netbook should have an icon for it now.¡±


    Before she realized it, she thanked him. Then she thought of another question, ¡°How will I know who everyone is in the game?¡±


    ¡°I have a feeling you will figure it out pretty fast,¡± he said. ¡°If you don¡¯t, well, you could always try asking them out of the game.¡± Suddenly, flickers of suspicion crossed his face. Arena was afraid that they were back to the way it had been. He waved her out without another word.

 Chapter Eighteen

    Later that night, Arena decided to get acquainted with the game. She made a ranger named Nayeli, resorting to the random name generator for something that hadn¡¯t been taken. The number of people that played this game must be staggering.


    When she finished the tutorial, an invite popped up from someone named Solitaire for a guild called Shattered Sodality. She accepted and a message flashed on the screen immediately in blue text from Jasmine, "Hi Nayeli! YAY! Welcome to the guild! Solitaire, send her some newbie gear," That had to be Lorna. "If you click on the tiny button on the bottom left with all the little people on it, you can see who''s in the guild." She did, and it showed that Solitaire was a level 80 human cleric (who she already guessed to be Sterling), Jasmine/Lorna was an 80 elf mage, and Theseus was a 42 bard that had to be Nate. One, Renata, was a level 80 necromancer, in a different color, and had a special GM text next to it. She supposed it must be Anita, but she wasn¡¯t sure. The others she couldn''t quite pick out, though they were all much lower in level. Theseus, Renata, and the others were offline. She carefully added each one as a friend.


    A message appeared in the middle of the screen that Jasmine was trying to summon her. She clicked "Accept" and the screen changed into a dark swamp. Solitaire and Jasmine were standing there. Solitaire wore a dark robe and had little bolts of lightning swirling around his head. He carried a large staff that glowed. Jasmine¡¯s light pink and red robe were shockingly bright, and she had a fire sprite floating next to her. Her shock pink hair matched her robe.


    "This area is way above your level, but we wanted to give you some gear," said Jasmine. Solitaire began to give her equipment, explaining in terse terms how it was used. They gave her a nice set of green armor and bow and explained how to summon her pets. Then they teleported her to a newbie zone and stayed with her while she did some quests. Solitaire healed her and put on what he called ''buffs'', which gave her extra armor and more damage.


    The blue text popped up again from Solitaire, which she now knew to be the guild chat channel. "This game is about territories fighting over one another, trying to capture one another''s castle. We''re in Aspherion territory and defend its castle. We can also exchange goods and kill monsters in our territory and in the neutral territories. We can kill monsters and even other players in other occupied territories. Originally, we intended to just use this to communicate, but it''s fun in the off-hours."


    Jasmine added, "And if we get a little bored and tired of hunting, we start dance parties in the market square!"If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Correction, *you* start dance parties in the market square," responded Solitaire.


    "Sometimes the party ends up in the hallway. Renata turns on the overhead music. Solly can get down. "


    ". . ."


    Arena was laughing out loud.


    "Stop laughing, Nayeli," wrote Solitaire. "I can hear you across the hall."


    That made her laugh even harder.


    Jasmine began a jig knee deep in swamp.


    He raised his staff, and suddenly both her and Lorna''s characters were running away in opposite directions. She didn''t know how to stop it. None of the keys seemed to work. She stopped in the middle of the swamp, facing a large purple slug. It moved to attack and was engulfed in a single giant ball of lightning.


    "Don''t mess with the cleric," he said in guild chat.


    Arena was still laughing.


    A yellow notice popped up that Theseus was online. Lorna teleported them all to their guild hall.


    ¡°Greetings, my lady Nayeli, welcome to our humble little band!¡± Theseus made a flourished bow. He wore a brightly colored cape and a jaunty blue hat with a feather. Following them around as Lorna showed her the guild hall, he serenaded them with a lute and really bad poetry in guild chat.


    "Theseus, if you use the word unicorn one more time, I''m going to guild kick you," wrote Solitaire.


    "There isn''t much else that rhymes with EULA form!" he retorted. Arena was afraid to ask what an EULA form was.


    "C''mon, let''s get Nayeli up to level 10 tonight. Then we can take her to the red rocks desert zone." Jasmine said. With Theseus¡¯ and Jasmine¡¯s help, Arena played her character to level 10. They took her to a desert region and she took a bunch of quests to kill scorpions and find things. She started to get some useful equipment and time was going fast.


    "Do you ever use voice on this?" she asked in guild chat, remembering her roommate always was on a headset chatting with her guild.


    "I talk to all of you enough," wrote Solitaire. "Besides, Theseus starts singing along with his lute and he won''t shut up. Takes the bard thing a little too seriously.¡±


    Theseus knelt in front of Solitaire. ¡°I am ever humbly at your service.¡± Lightning suddenly rained down from the sky, tumbling over Theseus. ¡°Brilliant! I always wanted special effects!¡±


    "It might be better if we stayed in text,¡± wrote Jasmine. ¡°Removes the possibility of being identified. They might find out I¡¯m a fourteen-year-old boy."


    ¡°What, and then you¡¯d get chased by all the fourteen-year-old girls?¡± Theseus threw his head back and laughed. ¡°That¡¯s my next alt!¡± Arena knew an alt was an additional character, and was probably what the rest of the characters in the guild list were. She would have to ask how they made their characters physically respond in the game.


    Arena was starting to get the hang of playing the game and she was finding that she was really enjoying herself. She suspected it wouldn¡¯t be as much fun alone, but with the constant ribbing and light sarcasm of the Misfits, it was a lot of fun. With their help, she got up to level 15 that night, though they all played later than they probably should have.

 Chapter Nineteen

    The breakfast room was deserted. Arena wondered how rice cereal managed to escape the bowl and stick to everything when she received a message on her handheld to report to Anita''s office.


    Anita said that Arena would be helping run comms for a mission that Nate would be running. Lorna and Bertha would be acting as backup with several Decoys, and Anita, Arena, and Sterling would be on comms.


    "On this mission, mostly we want you to see how things work, so your main job will be to listen and take notes. We might pull you in for a few things, to keep you involved." Arena was really starting to like Anita. Her long black hair fell over her face as she worked. Sometimes Arena had to lean closer to hear, but she was always clear with her instructions and encouraging when Arena got frustrated.


    They set her up in an empty office with a computer and some comms equipment. She ran through a couple of advanced simulations before the mission started, while the others were preparing for the mission. Suddenly they went live.


    This mission was at a museum gala function. Nate was supposed to meet up with a contact and get a microchip from her. Sterling called it a "standard op". Everyone seemed rather confident about it. She ran her hands over the keyboards, unsure if she could be of any help at all. Lorna was working as one of the caterers and Bertha as event security.


    "Atticus in position," she heard Nate''s soft voice on the comms.


    "Roger, Atticus," said Sterling. "Deadeye and Goldilocks, are you ready?"


    "Ready, Catalyst." said Lorna.


    "Roger," said Bertha.


    A video feed came up on her screen of the event. It seemed to be from a very high vantage point. The ballroom was filled with round tables decorated with expensive-looking platewear, and caterers rushed through the crowd carrying food or walked slowly with trays of appetizers and drinks. Elegant patrons clustered in small groups. She saw Nate strolling through the crowd towards the bottom left.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    "The target is wearing a lavender strapless gown and should have a yellow flowered pin in her hair," said Sterling. Arena suspected it was for her benefit.


    "Roger," said Nate. "Making the drop."


    Nate strolled toward the woman who was carefully patting her hair. He bumped into her casually and said something, and they laughed. The dark haired man with her turned sharply toward Nate, who smiled at him and bowed politely. The man was swaying, a drink in his hand. Nate looked like he was going to pat him on the shoulder, then dropped his hand. He sauntered out of the reception room and into the lobby. The camera view changed. Bertha stood outside the ballroom wearing a security uniform.


    "Item acquired," said Nate on the comms.


    How did they exchange the chip? It seemed so quick. Nate was walking toward the back of the lobby toward the parking area.


    Suddenly, the man with the woman in lavender came out of the ballroom, and headed in Nate''s direction. He appeared to be yelling something. She saw Nate''s head whip over his shoulder, and then he slipped into the hallway. Bertha appeared in the doorway. The man darted and slipped out another door.


    "We have some interference," said Nate.


    Bertha came on the comms, "I''m on him."


    The vid switched through some other channels, so they must have been trying to find one that showed the area behind the doors. Nothing seemed to be quite right.


    Suddenly, a video feed popped on the screen. It showed Nate looking either way in a hallway, then going in one direction. The drunk man appeared and yelled something. Nate kept walking away. Bertha appeared, and the man turned and pulled at a gun at her. He was yelling something, which was hard to understand through Bertha''s earpiece.


    Lorna appeared with a tray of food. Then man turned toward her, and Arena could see him say "Back up¡±. She stumbled, tossing the tray toward him, food flying. He backed up, surprised, and Bertha yanked the gun out of his hand, and then knocked him out with the other hand in a single punch.


    Arena saw Lorna get up. Both her and Bertha ran after Nate.


    "We''ve taken care of him, Catalyst," said Bertha. "On the way to the rendezvous point."


    There was a pause as they ran for the vans. Arena tried some of the commands for switching the vids on her screen, which worked apart from anyone else''s screens. She never did find one for the parking deck.


    "Pickup complete. We''re on our way back," said Nate.

 Chapter Twenty

    Nate summoned Arena to the dojo after breakfast, announcing they would discuss the mission before her workout.


    As far as Arena could tell, Nate never used his office. A pencil sat on his desk that had not moved since Arena arrived at the compound, and the rest of his office was empty except a few books. Lorna had decorated his nameplate with sparkly pink bow stickers, but Arena was sure Nate left those up on purpose. Lorna claimed that she put them on Sterling and Anita¡¯s nameplates, too, but they had quickly disappeared.


    "What we did was pretty standard. Either our target has intel, or we do, and we exchange it.¡± Nate tossed her a medicine ball, then motioned for her to toss it back. ¡°Sometimes you acknowledge the person, sometimes you don''t. It depends on the situation and how you can get away with it. And sometimes it depends on the agent. I personally like to acknowledge my contacts, as I did last night. In that sort of situation, walking into somebody probably happens often, because there were so many people in the room. I like situations like that, and I tend to set up meets in that way. Some agents prefer meeting in secret, though. Some like switching it up."


    "What about Lorna?" asked Arena.


    Nate chuckled. "Well, looking at the record of the feed, I saw Lorna pull one of her favorite tricks. She likes to completely throw people off balance. They notice her, which goes against most training, but think she''s either a klutz or an idiot. I''ve only worked with the Misfits for about six months, but I''ve seen Lorna trip people, write notes on waitress tabs, and stick her foot in a bucket. I heard that one time she put a pie in someone''s face." His brow wrinkled, but his mouth turned up on one side. "I''m not sure if that''s true or a rumor. But, she does have a certain style that I''m not sure would be considered traditional. It usually works quite well for her, though."


    "Do most places you go have video feeds like that?" Arena asked.


    "No, unfortunately not. Hotels and busy public places are pretty good about that, but it''s not always feasible or possible to pull a video feed. Sometimes in those places, you can set them up ahead of time, but not always. Audio feeds are usually workable, but in crowded places like that they often have too much background noise."


    "That man following you looked drunk, but he had a gun?" Arena didn''t know quite how to ask what she was wondering.


    "Ah yes, well the contact is undercover pretending to be his girlfriend." The medicine ball slammed into her stomach, and she tried not to gasp. "You see, we think he is an information broker, and some of the information he trades in reveals intel about our agents and movements. She is trying to find out if that is true. But in this instance, I think he thought I was hitting on her. I''m not sure he really thought I was a threat otherwise."Stolen story; please report.


    "Did what she gave you help?" asked Arena, after shoving the ball as hard as she could at his chest.


    "Yes, I believe it did, but Anita was still decrypting it the last time I talked to her." He caught it easily.


    Arena decided to switch to a new topic, one she had been wondering about for some time.


    "So, do all of you play that game a lot?"


    He laughed and rested the ball on his knees. "Sterling, Lorna, and Anita seem to. I often read in the evenings or when I''m not on duty. But sometimes I get on and play with them a bit. I mostly enjoy bothering a certain guild leader, though. Did you have fun playing last night?"


    "Yeah, I did," she said. "I didn''t think I would. I had a roommate that used to play all the time and wanted me to play with her, but I never did. I always thought I needed to study. But it was kinda fun."


    "Good," he said, smiling. "It is fun. But only when everyone is online."


    "Renata--is that Anita? What is a GM?"


    "Oh, yes, Anita is Renata, and a GM stands for game master. She is actually a tech on the game, and invented some of their proprietary technologies. I don''t think they have any idea she''s a federal agent. I''m not even sure they believe she''s really female."


    Arena puzzled over that comment. The game was fun, and she really enjoyed playing. She hoped they could play a lot more as time went on. Hopefully she wouldn''t be away from the Misfits too long for training, but she didn''t really know much about training at this point, or when it was even going to happen.


    "How long does formal training last for a full agent?" asked Arena.


    "Around six months, but it can vary. People like Anita and Sterling didn''t have to go through field agent training, though Sterling does some field work only when he needs to put into place something he or Anita built. They had analyst stuff--hacking, codebreaking, emergency simulations, that sort of thing.¡± Nate tossed the medicine ball over his head like a basketball. ¡°For field agents, you do a few months of paramilitary training, which is sort of like going to boot camp, then you do a few months of covert operations training. They may exempt you from some of that since that''s what we''re training you here, but you may still have to go through the paramilitary training. Get to learn how to drive and jump out of planes. I thought it was fun, anyway. You have to pass the army fitness test before you can do that, but I plan to make sure you''ll be ready for that before you go."


    Arena felt intimidated. She knew it would be hard, but she never really envisioned herself in a military situation. She felt a little better that she had Nate to help prepare her for that training, though. No wonder he has such high standards.


    ¡°Heads up!¡± She looked up just in time to catch the ball.

 Chapter Twenty-One

    The next morning she awoke a little late. She grabbed a bagel from the breakfast room and stuffed it unceremoniously into her mouth, earning an eyebrow raise from Nate.


    "Mmimph mmlate" she said through the bagel.


    Nate started laughing. She rolled her eyes at him, grabbed a Coke out of the fridge, and headed toward Sterling''s office. Fortunately, she was only a few minutes late, and managed to swallow the rest of the bagel before she walked into his office.


    "Come over here." He stood and picked a box off the table. She walked around his desk. "Hold out your wrist," he said.


    ¡°My wrist? Does it matter which one?"


    He examined her hands for a second, then said, "Left."


    It was an odd request, but she held out her left hand. He opened the box, revealing a pretty bracelet watch. "This has a tracking device in it, as well as a communications link. In case you lose your handheld or get it taken. It''s still pretty obvious, but they''ve come in handy before." He put the bracelet on her left wrist, gently and very carefully. He suddenly looked up her and retreated as soon as it was clasped. "Ah. If you push the watch face over, you can press the communications link button, and it will go to Anita. We made sure it was extra durable to withstand your training and the hoverboards. Titanium."


    The watch had a thick chain bracelet and silver scrolls around the face. She pushed the face, and with a slight click, it swung out, revolving from a screw on the top. A plain silver knob sat to one side, with holes that she assumed were for a speaker or microphone. She pushed the face back into place with another click.


    "It''s really pretty," she said, then walked back around his desk, running her fingers over the chain. She hoped she couldn¡¯t activate it by fidgeting.


    "Yes, well Anita picked it out and set it up." He paused. "You should go do your workout with Nate. He is expecting you."


    "Right." she said. "Thanks."


    Later that evening, she logged on the game. The guild list showed Sterling and Anita online. She typed hello on the guild chat channel.


    "Hello Nayeli" wrote Renata. "How are you enjoying the game?"


    "It''s fun, but I''m still learning how to do everything."


    "Let me know if you need any help, OK?" wrote Renata. Suddenly, a hundred gold tinkled into her account.


    "I will. And¡­ thanks?"


    ¡°It¡¯s my pleasure.¡±


    Arena ran around hacking at various creatures for about an hour, running quests and bringing back trinkets for more experience points. Then she spent twenty minutes shopping in the auction house with her newfound riches. A random glance at the clock told her it was past ten. No wonder people got addicted to these games.


    She was about to turn in a quest where she found a lost child and brought her back to her mother when Solitaire appeared in front of her. He offered her some new equipment and buffed her, without saying much. She thanked him, but said she wanted to study before bed.


    He vanished in a puff of smoke, most likely teleporting back to a location more his level. She played for a few minutes, then her message icon lit up. She wandered back to town and checked her message, which was sent from someone named Aeriela.


    The message was cryptic: ¡°I am looking forward to meeting the new little prot¨¦g¨¦. Hope they are training you outside of this silly game.¡±


    Startled, she forwarded it to Anita. She wrote back, ¡°You didn¡¯t meet anyone with the same name?¡± Arena responded that she did not. ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll check it out. Probably just a troll or spammer.¡±


    She logged off and opened one of the espionage books Nate had given her on developing contacts and assets. She had to look up half the words in her dictionary.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Hungry, she wandered out into the hallway and down to the common area. The light was on in the dining room, and she found Sterling in there, making a sandwich from the fridge. He looked up at her.


    "Guess it''s that time of night," he said. "You want a turkey sandwich?"


    "Sure," she said. "That actually sounds pretty good right now."


    He brought two plates with a sandwich on each and a package of Oreos tucked under his arm. Arena tried not to scarf it down in a few seconds. She shivered, wishing she had put on a sweater.


    "Are you cold?" Sterling asked.


    "A little," she said. "It''s not a big deal, though."


    He put his sandwich down and stood. Walking over to a panel on the wall, he pushed it a few times. Immediately, the room grew warmer.


    "Wow, that was fast," she exclaimed. "What else does that panel do?"


    "I can log in to the compound''s mainframe and control just about anything from the panels in each room," he said, returning to the table and picking up his sandwich. "Not just temperature, but security, alarms, communications, and so forth."


    "Was this place already like this, or was it built for the Misfits?" asked Arena.


    "A little of both, actually," he said. "It was used as a Secret Service installation in case of emergency, but they sort of abandoned it for something a little fancier. We acquired it and did some renovations, including the security and control system. Much of the control system is Anita''s design. She still likes to tinker with it and add new features."


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that message earlier,¡± he said. ¡°Anita and I will check it out, but it¡¯s probably nothing.¡± He resumed his sandwich.


    Arena nodded and sampled the Oreos, trying to nibble slowly to not look like a hog but wanting to scarf them down. The food had caused her to completely forget about it. Since she started here, she thought she lost some weight despite Nate''s intense weight training sessions. She had always had trouble gaining weight despite the amount she ate. Since her parents ran a restaurant, there were always leftovers. She could probably eat all day if she had time to do so. Luckily, meals were always good.


    "How many people work down here, altogether?" she asked, really curious.


    "There are nine on the team, including you, and four support staff. Alice is the mechanic and night security guard, but you don''t often see her since she works nights. Sharon makes the food and takes care of the kitchen, and also manages housekeeping. Kinah is a housekeeper, and Greg is our top-level security head over the Decoys."


    "How do they get a job like this?"


    "Alice, Kinah, and Greg are CIA support staff. They''ve been through basic training, and they all act as extra security here. Kinah works part-time, but makes a full salary. Sharon is retired from the CIA and actually volunteered for this. Unfortunately, retirement pay isn''t what it used to be. But I think she likes to cook a lot more than she ever liked being a field agent." He chuckled. "I told her she should open a bed and breakfast, but she said she''d be too worried they were hacking her files at night."


    Arena decided she would get to know the support staff, especially Sharon. Sharon certainly was a marvelous cook. They finished eating in silence, but not before Arena ate five more cookies.


    "Sterling, what made you decide to work for the CIA," she asked.


    He sighed. "I was actually recruited, so my situation was somewhat similar to yours, I suppose. They didn''t exactly give me much of a choice, except well, I kinda drew their attention, and that''s my fault. When I was in college, I was attempting to get a little more information about past nuclear programs in the United States of America than perhaps was--legal."


    Arena looked at him, shocked. He broke the law just for random research?


    He saw her expression and began laughing. "I was cocky in college. I thought I was too good to get caught. Plus, I was extremely naive. I quickly found out I was wrong. I may be good, very good, but there are people much better at security systems. Anita, for one. She could have caught me in a heartbeat. I was given a choice to be recruited to the CIA, or face never graduating, which probably sounds familiar to you."


    She didn¡¯t really wanting to be reminded.


    "Sorry," he said, and he looked sincere. "It''s one of their favorite tactics for creative miscreants, and since they tend to recruit highly-driven people, it tends to be effective."


    Arena nodded rather reluctantly. "So, what did they originally recruit you to do?"


    "They placed me as an analyst pretty much right away. Some of the tests we gave you show what people are best at and where the best placement for them would be. I took similar tests, though they would already be considered outdated. Anita''s strength may be computer and security systems, but I can run rings around her in ferreting out information and determining whether it is useful."


    "So what did my tests say? Do you know?"


    The corners of his mouth twitched slightly. "Yes, well, you''re pretty well-rounded, which pretty much screams ''field agent''. Good student, decent IQ, able to analyze information quickly, and a fair physical ability. Nothing that would probably surprise you terribly. Most of those tests are common sense. They tell the CIA what you yourself could probably tell them. They just don''t know you and need the tests to find out what most of your friends could have told them."


    That did make sense, to an extent. She wasn''t sure she knew what her IQ was, but she decided not to press it.


    "Well, I should probably take a shower and go to bed. Starting to stiffen up a bit."


    He nodded at her. "I should go to bed, too. Always something new to do. See you in the morning?"


    She nodded. "Good night," she said to Sterling as she left.


    "Good night."

 Chapter Twenty-Two

    Lorna pounced on Arena when she entered the dining area, bubbling over with excitement. Arena¡¯s first live test would happen that morning. She would be allowed to leave the compound, closely supervised, and would have to complete a mock mission. Lorna would not tell her anything else, except to put on normal clothes and be in the common area in an hour.


    Not sure what to expect from her ¡®mission¡¯, Arena dressed like a regular college student in black jeans, running shoes, and a pithy T-shirt, but packed a backpack with tech gear, a dark sweatshirt, and dressy clothing, including shoes and jewelry.


    Lorna, wearing a bright-orange sweater with purple tights decorated with red party hats, waited for Arena in the common area. Lorna glanced at Arena¡¯s backpack, and cracked a slight smile, but said nothing about it.


    ¡°Ready to go?¡± she asked.


    Arena nodded, though she didn¡¯t feel ready. There was no point in delaying, though. Might as well get it over with before her worries paralyzed her, though part of Arena wanted to go for a run on the treadmill.


    For the first time since her arrival at the compound, Arena entered an elevator taking her to the rest of the world. Lorna led Arena to a parking garage, where there was a delivery van waiting. Arena could see out the front if she strained, but the two large men sitting in the front made visibility difficult. The area didn¡¯t look at all like California, and Arena wondered where she was.


    Arena could see tall buildings and patches of snow, which in late March probably meant they were in a northern state, and Arena guessed either New York or Chicago.


    Lorna turned to her and said, ¡°Your mission is to find a man with a yellow handkerchief in his pocket, sitting near a fountain in the park. He will have information for you. You will take that information to the point listed on your handheld, via taxi or other means. You may find a few obstacles on the way. Improvisation is key. This is just a practice mission, but the CIA will be watching through various means. Please put in your earpiece.¡±


    Arena pulled her earpiece from the case in her backpack. A deep, rumbling voice filled her head. ¡°Hello, Cyclone. In ten minutes you will reach the drop point. You are to progress to the center of the park.¡± Sterling¡¯s voice sounded professional, but there was a touch of something else she couldn¡¯t identify. ¡°I will be on comms with you the whole time, but too much talking to yourself will be obvious. This mission is timed, so do the best you can as fast as you can. Stand by.¡±


    Lorna smiled at her. ¡°I¡¯m not coming with you. I have somewhere else to be. Good luck!¡±


    The van stopped. One of the men came around to open the door. They were tucked in an alley. Arena hopped out with her backpack and walked to the street. She was definitely in New York City. At the corner, she could see down the street at trees beyond. Central Park. She walked briskly toward the park. Nobody but street vendors gave her a second glance.


    ¡°Good, Cyclone. You are headed in the right direction,¡± Sterling commented. ¡°Your contact is an older man wearing a gray suit with a yellow handkerchief in his front pocket. You are to use the code word ¡®extraordinary¡¯.¡°


    Arena walked into the park, and followed the pathways toward the center. She had been to New York once before, when she was a child. She vaguely remembered visiting Central Park, but it did not seem familiar now.


    She came to the fountain in the center of the park, and spied a man in a pale gray suit sitting on a park bench, off to one side. He was bent over slightly, leaning on a cane, but she could see a lemon-yellow pocket hankie. His wrinkled face bore a very sour expression. She sat down next to him and casually nodded at him politely.


    ¡°Snow this late is rather extraordinary, isn¡¯t it?¡± she said, her stomach churning.


    The man next to her snorted and said in a gravelly voice, ¡°Some years it is and some it is not. That is just the way of the world. But you are not even wearing a jacket.¡±


    Something in his voice was oddly familiar, and she turned and looked squarely at him. He mirrored her, one tufty white eyebrow raised. Under the brows, green eyes challenged. Nate. He smirked.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Her eyes widened and she suppressed the urge to laugh. At least, she kept under control until Sterling said in her ear, ¡°If you manage to kick his butt now for the information, I¡¯ll give you bonus points.¡± She covered her laugh with a cough.


    ¡°I believe you¡¯ll find what you need in your pack,¡± Nate said and added in his normal voice, ¡°I don¡¯t think violence will be necessary--or effective.¡±


    Arena looked down at her pack. She hadn¡¯t even seen him move his arm. She¡¯d have to practice that later. Opening her backpack, she made a show of rummaging through it. The small manila envelope was on top. She pulled out her sweatshirt, pushing the envelope to the bottom of the sack.


    Putting on her sweatshirt as she stood, she rubbed her arms for emphasis, wishing she had some crumbs to give the few gathering pigeons. She took out her phone and glanced at the GPS. It showed a location three blocks to the west of the park. She took off in that direction, leaving Nate sitting on the bench. Suspicion of being followed flooded her senses. She stopped to get a coffee at a stand, trying to remember the simulations she did on spotting tails.


    As she walked away with her coffee, she said, ¡°I¡¯m being followed, Catalyst.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Sterling replied. ¡°Your tail is from the larger organization. They are watching you.¡±


    Arena frowned. ¡°Both of them? Are they listening, too?¡±


    She heard an intake of breath. ¡°You have more than one?¡±


    ¡° I¡¯m pretty sure,¡± she responded.


    The long pause made Arena nervous. She strode out of the park and across the street. Then Sterling said, ¡°Comms are secure as far as I know, Cyclone. Proceed to the next drop point. Deadeye is on the way.¡±


    A soft female voice interrupted, ¡°Comms are not secure. Proceed with caution.¡±


    Trying not to panic at Anita¡¯s voice, Arena wanted to turn and run back to where Nate was. She hoped he was following her and that thought gave her some comfort. She swallowed and crossed the street, glancing in a shop window at the woman in a pink jogging suit close behind her. The other tail was a man in a business suit carrying a laptop case, but he was much farther behind. Arena guessed the man to be the CIA operative, and the woman to be something else entirely. She had a dark ball cap pulled down low over her face.


    ¡°You¡¯re almost there,¡± Sterling sounded very worried. ¡°I¡¯m watching you. Just keep going.¡±


    Rough hands grabbed her and dragged her into an alley. Arena struck with her elbow, her body responded to the training Nate had given her. She hit the person holding her, and dropped to the ground, rolling, trying to kick at his feet. She scraped her leg across broken glass, but did not make contact. He grabbed her feet and yanked her up, thrusting her against the wall by the neck.


    ¡°We meet again, little one. Isn¡¯t that funny?¡± Arena faced the man with the scar from the night of the competition. She tried to kick him, but his hold got tighter and the edges of Arena¡¯s vision began to turn white. ¡°So you are working for someone, are you? I thought we had a nice little chat about that last time--¡±


    Something slammed him from the side and he let go. Arena dropped to her knees, clutching her throat and gasping for air. She heard a female voice bellow, ¡°Don¡¯t move!¡±


    She regained a little sense and found the woman in the pink jogging suit straddling him, a gun aimed at his head.


    Footsteps sounded. Lorna came around the corner, also aiming a gun at the man. The man carrying the laptop case also appeared with a gun, with Nate close behind him, missing most of his disguise.


    The woman in pink moved so Lorna could handcuff the man, but she still held the gun to his head. Once he was handcuffed, the man with the case said, ¡°Thank you, Agent Kershaw. I think we have it from here.¡±


    Agent Kershaw? Arena spun to the woman in pink. Sophia faced her with a faded black eye, but alive. She smiled thinly at Arena, who very nearly hugged her, but was pulled away and examined closely by Nate.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± He touched her neck, which ached, and she suspected it would be bruised for a few days.


    ¡°Cyclone? Atticus? Report!¡± said Sterling into her ear. ¡°I can¡¯t see what happened.¡±


    ¡°Suspect apprehended and in custody, Catalyst. All accounted for,¡± responded Nate.


    Arena slumped against the wall, too overwhelmed to speak. What happened to Sophia? She wondered. How did she end up here? Was it a trick? Tears tickled her eyelashes, and she swiped her arm over her face.


    The man with the case said, ¡°We¡¯ll take him. Agent, why don¡¯t you go with them. We¡¯ll pick you up later,¡± he said to Sophia. He turned to Nate. ¡°Get her brief while she¡¯s there.¡±


    Nate nodded at the man, ¡°Yes, sir. I will send it over as soon as we finish with the vid.¡±


    The man turned to Arena, ¡°Good work, there. Sorry about the interference. It was not planned and will be taken into account.¡±


    The man with the scar leered at Arena as he was put into a car. Nate guided Arena by the shoulders to the delivery van. He had to push her inside.


    Sophia followed and sat down next to Arena. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry. For everything.¡± Tears streamed down her face. ¡°I wasn¡¯t supposed to be involved, I promise.¡±


    The van door shut, and the inside went dark. She felt Nate¡¯s hand on her shoulder. Sophia grasped her arm, and fell asleep on her other shoulder for the ride back to the compound.

 Chapter Twenty-Three

    The staff doctor examined both Arena and Sophia, pronouncing them satisfactory. Lorna led them to the conference room. Trays of food covered the table. Sophia launched herself at it.


    Sterling came in with a netbook. Once everyone finished eating, he switched on the vid monitor. Nate and Lorna both sat to one side, out of the view of the camera. Arena sat next to Sophia across from Sterling.


    ¡°Agent Kershaw, please recount the events that brought you here, from the time that you last saw Agent Schmidt.¡± Sterling looked up at them expectantly.


    Sophia cleared her throat, ¡°I was assigned to recruit Arena Schmidt to the CIA. I was actually working on a postgraduate project, hopefully to earn a little rank incentive. I became a full agent last year after attending training. The plan was to ask her to move into a house for the next year and recruit her at that time. I convinced Arena to let me go with her to the surfing competition, thinking that it would help me build a relationship with her. I was planning to bring up the idea of rooming the next year.¡±


    She shifted in her chair, wincing, but continued, ¡°When I saw the man on the hoverboard, I couldn¡¯t believe that sort of technology existed, nor did I know there was already a team onsite. I thought maybe I could find out more about it, but I was careless and was knocked unconscious by the man on the board.¡±


    ¡°When I came to, I was in a warehouse, in an office chair, tied to a metal shelf. I could overheard some of the conversation outside. They realized that they had competition for the technology and were going to track this team. They said they had a contact in the CIA and would find out more. They said the Asian girl who captured the second hoverboard and chased them was an agent trained to ride it and they wanted to claim her as an asset, but the CIA interfered. They thought that I was not involved and worthless.¡± Sophia stopped, eyes darting to the side. ¡°I was shocked Arena chased after me.¡±


    ¡°Four men, including the one with the scar. He didn¡¯t stay there. They gave me a little food and water and said they weren¡¯t sure what to do with me, so they waited until they talked to their contact. It was days. Sometimes they kept me in a supply closet, but mostly they kept me in the chair. They drugged me fairly often, not sure with what. Mentioned ransoming me, but their contact insisted I might be useful. It was a point of contention between several of the men. They did try to question me about Arena, so I told them she was my roommate and we were out for a night of partying. I followed my training and they didn¡¯t seem suspicious of it, though they couldn¡¯t figure why their contact was interested in me.¡± She paused and took a sip of water. ¡°This morning, I overheard the man with the scar say they got intel of a STATUS team mission near Central Park and would be attempting to capture the agent who could use the hoverboards. I don¡¯t know how they knew Arena was with STATUS, but I assumed they found out from their contact.


    ¡°They left. I pulled over the shelf and managed to break it, which is how I got a black eye. The bonds were not very well tied, so I think they didn¡¯t expect me to escape. Or maybe they figured it didn¡¯t matter too much if I did. I stole a cashbox from the warehouse, broke into it, and used the cash to get downtown.¡± She looked down and then shrugged. ¡°And grab some new clothes--you can buy anything from a New York street vendor. I didn¡¯t have time to find a phone, and I wanted to get to Arena before they did.¡±This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°The warehouse is here in New York, and I can show you where it is on the map. But with the man with the scar in custody, they might have already moved locations anyway.¡±


    Sterling spun the netbook toward Sophia, showing a map of New York, and Sophia pointed to the location. ¡°Decoys are on the way under Bertha.¡±


    ¡°Anyway, I saw Arena crossing the street toward the park, and followed her to her contact. When she walked away, I shadowed her from there. I really had no idea it was just a training exercise. I knew she had spotted me when she stopped for coffee. I didn¡¯t see the man with the scar or any of his men, so I followed as closely and as obviously as possible, hoping she would either recognize me or at least think I wasn¡¯t a threat.¡±


    Arena nodded at this point. Sophia stopped to let her speak. ¡°I did see her, but I wasn¡¯t sure who she was. Sterling said someone from the CIA was watching the exercise, and I didn¡¯t know if it was her or the man with the laptop case.¡±


    Sophia¡¯s expression was slack. ¡°When Arena passed an alley, I saw a man grab her and pull her into the alley. I ran to the alley, saw he had Arena by the throat, and tackled him, pulling his own gun on him. That¡¯s when everyone else caught up.¡±


    The briefing continued for an hour, concentrated on identifying each of the other men with the man with the scar. Nate escorted Sophia to a room to sleep. Arena wished she could have had a chance to talk to her alone, but perhaps she would have a chance the next day before Sophia went back to Virginia.


    Late that night, Arena was sitting alone in the eating area, staring at the peanut butter sandwich in front of her. She heard a soft scrape behind her, and turned to find Sterling, looking worried and very tired. He ran a hand through his hair and pulled out the chair beside her.


    ¡°Tough day, huh?¡± Sterling leaned back in the chair, tipping his head back until there was a loud pop. He flinched and rubbed his shoulder. ¡°Unfortunately, tomorrow may not be much better. You are going with Sophia to Langley. They want to talk to you about what happened, and about your future with the CIA. They are considering sending you to training immediately.¡±


    ¡°But, I don¡¯t want to go from here yet,¡± she said, realizing for the first time that it was true. ¡°Will they let me come back?¡±


    He met her eyes. ¡°I really don¡¯t know. Most people don¡¯t ask to join us. They sort of end up here.¡±


    ¡°Did you ¡®end up here¡¯?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he said firmly. ¡°I chose, and still choose, to be here. I don¡¯t want to be at Langley or anywhere else. This is my home--both the compound and the people.¡± His eyes were bright. ¡°And that includes you, too.¡±


    Sterling stared at the sandwich as she had, as if it were the only real thing in the world. Then he said softly, ¡°I requested that you at least stay to help us finish recovering the hoverboards, but it may be taken out of our hands entirely. However, I also requested that I accompany you and Agent Kershaw to Langley. I have some business there anyway.¡±


    ¡°Thanks. I don¡¯t think I could have done it otherwise.¡± Arena delicately pulled crumbs from her crust. ¡°I knew you couldn¡¯t say much once Anita said the comms were not secure. What happened anyway?¡±


    ¡°Anita traced the signal to the man with the scar. His handheld was capturing the signal. How he found the frequency out is a mystery, though. From what Agent Kershaw said, it seems we have a leak. I can¡¯t see that it would be anyone here, but it may be someone at Langley who has adequate access. We¡¯re not really a top secret unit.¡±


    They sat glumly, staring at the sandwich on the table for a few minutes, before Sterling stood and said, ¡°You should get some sleep. Tomorrow will not be easy.¡±

 Chapter Twenty-Four

    The next morning they left for Virginia at six in the morning. They took a commercial flight, coach class. Sophia put in headphones and closed her eyes, pillow under her neck. Sterling was buried in a huge pile of papers along with his netbook. He barely glanced up for most of the flight.


    Arena had brought her netbook, but ended up sitting and listening to the music on the complimentary headphones. She had no idea what would happen at Langley, or if she could convince them to let her stay with the Misfits, if at least until they recovered the hoverboards. She knew that eventually she would have to go to formal training, but she was hoping that wouldn¡¯t be until the late summer or fall.


    She attempted to look as professional as possible in a dark-blue pantsuit and a gray blouse. She felt extremely nervous, though, and hoped it didn¡¯t wrinkle too much during the flight.


    They arrived at Dulles airport. Arena had never been to Washington DC, and she was hoping maybe she¡¯d get a chance to see the Smithsonian but figured it was doubtful.


    Once at Langley Air Force Base, they were scanned and required to produce credentials. Arena didn¡¯t even know she had credentials until Sterling handed her a packet in the car. She attached the CIA badge to her jacket, and rifled through the rest of the papers, which were a written version of the briefing with Sophia, plus photos, a flash drive, and other documents.


    She felt a hand on her wrist when the MP stopped the car before a door. Sterling squeezed it gently, and said, ¡°Just tell the truth, and remember as much as you can. I will take care of the rest.¡± Warmth from his thumb surged into the blood vessels. She noticed he didn¡¯t say ¡®try¡¯ or ¡®if I am able¡¯ but ¡®will¡¯, and she hoped that was true. He nodded at her and let go, then turned in the opposite direction.


    The MP informed her to wait outside the room while Sophia was interviewed, which took a long time. Arena sat on a hard chair, and read all the information Sterling had given her, detailed and clearly photographed. Occasionally she heard murmurs of sound, but nothing she could clearly identify.


    Sophia finally emerged, looking worn, then said, ¡°Your turn.¡±


    The room gave the impression of a courtroom. Three people sat behind a curved table. One motioned for Arena to sit across from them. The man in the center was tall with very dark hair and a beard, but he was athletic and had very pale eyes, maybe gray. The woman on the left, dark-skinned with a perfectly coiffed chin-length bob, regarded Arena coolly. The man on the right had fair skin, white hair, and dark eyes, and looked like a military general, with a lined face and a very stern demeanor.


    ¡°I am Marilyn Gregor,¡± the woman said, ¡°This is Justin Yates,¡± she indicated the man with the beard, ¡°and this is Gerald Fieldhaven. Please recount the events of your work with STATUS, from the moment you encountered the hoverboard until today, with emphasis on the first encounter and the recent training mission,¡± The woman spoke in a clipped Northern accent. Arena noted that the woman left out their titles or positions, and she felt guilty she could not recall the tutorials on the organization of the CIA.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    Arena began to speak, and she tried to explain as plainly as possible. The man with the beard glared intensely and pursed his lips at some points, and often took notes. He asked the most pointed questions. The woman wrote a lot, but didn¡¯t often look up. The other man was stoic and stared openly at her for most of the time. He never picked up the pencil in front of him.


    When Arena had finished, they began to ask her questions, asking her to retell a point or to remember a specific detail such as eye color or make of shoe. Arena was sure she was failing whatever test they were giving her, since she didn¡¯t remember many of the things they asked.


    ¡°Now Miss Schmidt, you have accepted assignment with the CIA, and have signed off on it,¡± said Agent Yates. ¡°You realize that it would be very difficult for us to release you from that commitment. Perhaps you should move to a unit that is more hospitable to your unique skills and talents, once you¡¯ve completed agent training and your degree, of course. In fact, I¡¯m sure we could accelerate some of your schooling as well as your training, since you seem to be so promising. Not many agents respond half as well with as little as training as you had during your recent unexpected mission.¡±


    ¡°No, sir,¡± she responded. ¡°I would like to stay with STATUS, if that is acceptable. I feel like I have much to offer them, and they have a great deal to teach me.¡±


    He raised an eyebrow at her, as did the woman. The other man cocked his head and narrowed his eyes slightly, and Arena swore she could see a faint smile.


    ¡°You do understand,¡± said the woman, ¡°that STATUS does not have much room for advancement. It would be much harder to transfer to a more demanding position than if you were, say, here at Langley.¡±


    ¡°We saw indications that you might be able to achieve much as a CIA agent. Perhaps we were mistaken?¡± said Mr. Yates. ¡°We do look for potential agents who have some amount of ambition.¡±


    The other man coughed. Loudly. He dropped a hand on the table with a thump and turned toward the other two. ¡°I don¡¯t see any reason why this has to be decided at this time. Miss Schmidt has been with STATUS for a month, and her training seems to be exceptional. STATUS has done a lot of work in attempting to recover the hoverboards, and I believe they need Miss Schmidt to finish the recovery. This particular mission is unusual and it might take unusual methods. No one else can fly the boards as well as her, and she doesn¡¯t need to go to formal training immediately, seeing as she has another year to finish school. I think she should hold provisional status until we¡¯ve seen a reasonable amount of time for them to accomplish the mission.¡±


    The other two shifted uncomfortably. Yates nodded after a moment, but he did not look happy about it.


    ¡°Yes, well, perhaps it can wait for a little while longer,¡± said the woman. ¡°All right, Miss Schmidt, you are dismissed.¡±


    Mr. Fieldhaven caught her arm down the hall and offered a gentle smile. ¡°You did a good job. Keep doing what you are doing.¡± He tilted his head back toward the room. ¡°They want to make everything much too difficult.¡±


    She smiled back at him. She couldn¡¯t express how much she appreciated his support, so she just said a quiet thank you.


    He began to walk away, then gestured at the sergeant supposed to escort her. ¡°Take her to R&D. I believe they have something she needs.¡± He turned back at her and said, ¡°I went out of my way to make sure you had it. I hope it helps.¡±

 Chapter Twenty-Five

    The sergeant led her through a checkpoint. They went to a large research office, and he shoved a paper at a man sitting behind the center desk. The man nodded and disappeared, returning with a long square box. He held out a hand scanner to her, and she pressed her palm to it curiously. It blinked green and he handed her the box.


    ¡°They didn¡¯t want to put this on a commercial flight, so Assistant Director Fieldhaven requisitioned a military flight back to New York for you and Unit Director Flynn.¡± The man behind the desk took out a clipboard and wrote something on it. ¡°You¡¯re all set. The rest of the paperwork was done ahead of time.¡±


    Arena hoped the box was what she thought. She had to balance it on her head to keep from dragging it on the ground. The sergeant led her back to a covered parking deck. Sterling waited, loaded down with two briefcases and his netbook case.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how you¡­ They actually gave it to¡­¡± He lapsed into stunned silence as they were ushered into a van. He was quiet on the ride, which was quite short, mostly staring at the box. She tried not to stare at the automatic rifle of the Marine sitting across from them. They got out on a tarmac and boarded a plane. The Marine followed them with dutiful precision. She expected a military sort of plane, but found a small private jet.


    When their escort wandered out of earshot, Sterling leaned over to her. ¡°Did it go alright? What happened?¡±


    She recounted the interview, and carefully quoted everything the three had said at the end. He frowned at that part, his eyes flashing. Unconsciously, she ran her hands over the soft leather of her seat.


    ¡°Yates has been trying to close us down since the beginning,¡± Sterling growled. ¡°He just doesn¡¯t like me, since I beat the crap out of him in all the training simulators. Hear I still have some of the high scores.¡±


    Something had been playing in her mind, and glancing at the sergeant who sat in the jumpseat in the back of the plane, she decided to ask him. ¡°Why did they call you Unit Director? I thought George was Director of the Misfits.¡±


    She heard his sharp intake of breath. ¡°I suppose that was something else Yates dropped?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± she said. ¡°It was the guy in research.¡±


    He deflated. ¡°George is¡­ Well, really, he¡¯s a Decoy. Dr. Carlos was correct. I am the real director of the Misfits. But most of the unit doesn¡¯t even know that.¡±


    Arena gaped at him. ¡°But why do you need a decoy? Surely we don¡¯t need to pretend within the group?¡±Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t to hide it from you all. It was to protect the Misfits from people like Yates, except that his advancement meant he had to be brought in. George is more like their ideal of a unit director, and so he runs interference with the CIA. He has a lot of connections there, more than you might think.¡±


    He looked at her plaintively. ¡°I¡¯m not a good leader. I¡¯m just the smart aleck who thought of the unit. Everywhere I worked, people treated me like I didn¡¯t have a clue what I was doing. I was assigned to a unit where had Yates was unit director, and he made it his mission to make my life as miserable as possible. I ended up working with Lorna on a mission, and I saw what she could do, and how her unit director didn¡¯t utilize or even listen to her. She tried to warn him in several cases, and he deliberately ignored her. Then he tried to pin the failed results on her. So I suggested the idea of the Misfits to ADD Fieldhaven, and he let me create it. It works out for him since we¡¯ve been rather effective, and I take the people that others complain about. But when Yates found out that I was going to transfer, he threatened to get me fired by any means possible. He¡¯s also after Fieldhaven¡¯s position, so Garry doesn¡¯t like him much either.¡±


    ¡°George wanted to retire and spend more time with his family, but got his pension cut severely. I offered him a position acting as director of the Misfits in exchange for a lot of time away. When they go away most of the time, they aren¡¯t on missions. They¡¯re just at home with the grandkids. Sometimes they do a little reconnaissance or dig out information from the archives. Harriet was actually an analyst, you know? A really good one, too, at one time. But technology outpaced her and her skills became obsolete. I watch for people that have amazing talent that is underestimated. I think they often have more to offer, and are easier to work with than those with reams of ambition and not enough room to wield it. Many of the CIA brass doesn¡¯t often give up anyone they think might be able to manipulate and use for their own advantage, but when they do have them, their talent just gets wasted.¡±


    She sighed. ¡°Except for me. I think I¡¯m just an accident,¡± she said, then added, ¡°And Nate.¡±


    Arena expected Sterling to frown, but he just shook his head. ¡°No, not ¡®except¡¯. You and Nate are irreplaceable. Just like Lorna, Bertha, George, Harriet, and even the Decoys.¡±


    ¡°What did Nate do to get in trouble?¡± she asked, dying to ask somebody.


    Sterling met her eyes. ¡°I think that¡¯s something he should tell you himself. But I will say that he did what he thought was right, and it made his superior look bad, and he got blackballed for it. I know it might seem that I don¡¯t like Nate very much, but I believe he¡¯s a valuable addition to the Misfits, and we¡¯ve been much better with him than we were before. I understand why he did what he did, and why he got in trouble for it. His former director is a nasty piece of work.¡± Then he regarded her sternly. ¡°But he isn¡¯t all he appears to be either.¡±


    She chewed her lip. ¡°No, but neither are you.¡±


    A grin bloomed on his face. ¡°No, that¡¯s certainly true. I need to work on that, don¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Does Lorna know? That you are director of the Misfits?¡± Arena remembered Lorna¡¯s first comment about Sterling, how protective he was of the unit.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t told her, and I don¡¯t think anyone else has either, but Lorna figures out things, and I¡¯ve suspected she¡¯s known for a while.¡± He looked resigned. ¡°Perhaps I need to have that conversation with everyone. Maybe it¡¯s about time.¡±