What She Thought She Knew (Rachel Moore Mystery Book 1), стр. 12

I gave him a confused look. "Yes I do. Why?"

The Guardian ruffled through one of his numerous pockets, and took out a piece of paper. He gave it to me, and showed me the front side.

It stated that "Salute to Vienna" would be playing at the grand theater on May 16th. In accordance with the date today, that was about five weeks away.

I glanced up at him. "Why are you showing me this?" I asked.

"I figured it'd be something you'd like. I was just trying to make you more comfortable during this phase." The Guardian replied smoothly.

Annoyance took a hold of me once more. He obviously knew a lot of about me, yet I knew absolutely nothing about him.

I placed the ticket in my pocket.

Seeming to take his cue, the Guardian turned his back towards me, and gave me one last glance. "I'll leave you to decide whether you would wish to attend or not. We will meet again."

He started to walk away when once again my damn mouth went off on its own accord. "Wait!"

The Guardian looked back at me.

I spoke. "I have something for you."

I made a gesture to instruct the Guardian to wait, and quickly went back into my apartment.

I rummaged around in my closet, and took out the object of interest.

I sped walk back to my balcony where the Guardian was still waiting. I held out the piece of clothing. "I forgot to give you back your coat, though it seems you've got plenty more." I blabbered out.

I couldn't read the Guardian's facial expression as he took the coat from my grasp. I stood still as he rolled it up carefully, and placed it over his shoulder. "Thanks," he said.

I nodded. "Yeah, no problem." I quietly took a deep breath. "Since I returned your coat, I think it's fair that I at least know your name."

For a moment, there was just silence as the Guardian debated on my request.

Finally, he turned his head towards me. "Very well. You may refer to me as Agent Delta."

With that, he jumped down the building's fire escape onto the dark ground below.

I stood there for a few minutes contemplating on the Guardian's weird behavior. I suppose it's because I've never had any interaction with his rank.

I shook my head, and took out the ticket.

As I looked down at it, I noticed that I missed a very important detail. The sight almost made me groan in annoyance. "Great," I said, "it's a masquerade theme."

Not wanting to stand outside anymore, I went back into my apartment, and double checked that my balcony door was locked.

Chapter 9: Corruption within the Incorruptible

After another prolonged week of filling out paperwork regarding my last mission, and undergoing a psych evaluation, I was officially back in business. It nearly cost me an arm to convince the Directors that I was ready to go back. I didn't understand why they were so hesitant with me.

Nevertheless, I walked down the street with a slight skip. Seeker HQ never looked more inviting than it did the moment I received a message stating that Scouts were allowed to resume their missions.

There was no conclusive evidence to solve who assassinated the Head Scout. As such, the Directors switched their focus to planning his funeral.

I was currently sitting in a rather comfortable leather chair in one of the Seeker lounges. I opened the new mission file, and briefly skimmed through the details.

Apparently there was a person of interest who was suspected of dealing with Phantom agents. The purpose wasn't specified.

My job was to arrest the man for an interrogation.

To do that, I had to meet with an anonymous contact who only provided me with the location of the meeting place.

I hated going into situations with no clue of what was going on, but I had no choice. I just hoped that there would be no gun waiting to put a bullet in my head, or worse, an explosion. That would have really ruined my day.

I got up from my chair, and made my way down to the main hall.

Prior to my mission briefing, I made a stop to the Seeker armory, and carefully selected a better pistol. The .40 caliber Glock was adequate, however, I needed something that could really pack a punch. My little run in with the Phantom agents was still fresh in my mind.

As such, I chose the .50 caliber Magnum gun.

I took the elevator down to the underground parking lot where my ride was waiting for me. Since I had no car, I had the excuse to test out my new baby: the Kawasaki Ninja 500R, 2019 edition.

Its cost was nearly thirty grand due to all of the modifications that were put into it. It acquired high mileage capacity, yet didn't burn fuel quickly.

Putting in our own tech equipment into it was a worthy investment. I also customized it to my liking: a sleek black color with purple hues and spikes on the sides of each tire in case of being rammed by another vehicle.

Afterwards my momentary admiration of the mechanical beauty, I easily slid myself on top, and placed my legs in the right position while my hands settled on the handle. I rubbed the one that controlled the gas, and appreciated the fine sound of the strong engine.

I settled my helmet on my head, secured the claps, and was on my way out to the very peculiar world.

As soon as the cool breeze hit my body, I allowed myself to close my eyes temporary. I savored the sense of freedom I experienced.

For a moment, I forgot about the war, about my devastating adolescence, and just focused on the sensation at hand.

In that brief amount of time, I was