- FIVE -
Closing the computer, I turn to the wall next to me. I grab a backpack off a hook on the wall and quickly fill it with all the things I'll need- weapons, food, and the package of information.
I pick up some bullets and move them around in my hand, feeling the cold metal. Looking around, I see a small hand gun and pick it off the shelves.
Loading it, I stuff it into the bag, too.
Opening a drawer, a smile creeps across my face. The inside of the box is laden with passports; from Spanish to British, Canadian or Norwegian. Each of them has different names and birthdays.
Quickly, I stuff the American passport into the bag walk to the back door of the room.
Pulling open the heavy door, I'm greeted with a pitch black tunnel. The tunnel goes on for who knows how long, but after only a few short seconds, I hear a train running in the distance. It comes closer and closer before I hear the deafening screech of brakes against the tracks. Lights appear in the distance, and it get louder and louder. The lights shine at my feet now, showcasing a kind of platform. Seconds later, the train stops and the doors open. Getting on, I find a seat, which is not hard to do when the train is completely empty.
The train runs for an hour before it stops again. Lights begin to filter through the tunnel and graffiti layers the concrete walls. The brakes screech again and when the it comes to a stop, its doors open and people file in. This happens again five times before a board at front of the train cab reads:
"YAKUSK AIRPORT"
The wheels screech loudly yet again, and I stay sitting until after the train comes lurching to a stop. Patiently waiting for the crowd of people to move, I slip out of the mess and make my way up the staircase to the huge building.
For the first time, I have left my cavernous hole of a home. Never did I imagine that I would leave that place. Not only was training the only thing I have ever known, the Red Room is the only place I could ever remember living.
But now, as I stand on the airport platform, I take a deep breath. Tying my hair up into a bun, I tuck the loose strands behind my ear. I remember teacher telling to look casual. Looking around, I inspect the tall walls that envelop the huge space, their surfaces decorated in everything from adverts to boards displaying flight times.
A breath almost hitches in my throat when I look up at the ceiling to see a huge window, opening up the airport to the early morning sky. My mind reals at the possibilities that come from a place like this. People cross my path left and right, all on their own journey. Every single one of them not even sparing a glance at one another, they're absorbed in the thoughts of the family they will see, the business deals they will make, or something else the was so important that they can't even look up.
I keep my small bag on my back and walk briskly to security. The files regarding my mission are still tucked in the largest pocket of the carry-on bag.
My new clothes are stiff, too. The skinny blue jeans hug my body unlike any clothing I had ever been offered during my training. The large winter coat does well at making me look like everybody else, but the overall size of it makes it harder to maneuver my body through the mass of people.
I approach the security booths with confidence. I belong here, I tell myself. I place my bag, my shoes, and I.D., in a small box on the table. If I do this correctly, nothing should beep when I go through the full body scanner.
Quickly, I trip and fall, sprawling onto the floor. On my way to the ground, I "accidentally" hit my arm against a button on the side of the scanning machine. Both of the machines shut off completely, rendering them unable to beep or show an image of the contents of my bag.
Distracted by my sudden accident, a security guard comes over.
"Ma'am, are you alright?" he askes with a thick Russian accent. I smile as he offers a hand.
Graciously, I accept, standing up right in the scanner.
"Perfectly fine, thank you," I say, smiling and speaking in my best American accent, "just clumsy, that's all."
I laugh at my own words, and step through the scanner discreetly. Grabbing my bags and putting my shoes back on, I shoot the security guard another smile, this time, batting my eyes ever so slightly.
The man coughs slightly and smiles back awkwardly.
"Well, enjoy your travels," he chimes, waving slightly while walking away.
Smiling to myself, I proceed to the gate where my plane will take off. Relief floods through me, now that the security is over. If they had found the weapons, or confidential files, everything would have been over.
I continue to walk confidently through the building, going over in my head what will happen when I land.
"ALL PASSENGERS ON FLIGHT 682, SOKOVIA, BOARDING IN FIVE MINUTES," a mechanical, female, voice says, booming over the speakers.
Perfect Timing.
Sitting in an open chair close to the gate, I patiently wait for the next announcement. So, naturally, I spend this time indulging in my favourite pastime- people watching.
A chubby man walks by, sweat perspiring on his forehead and staining his ill-fitted suit. The shoes are worn, and his brief case is almost falling apart. On his way to a very important business meeting- a career breaker, even.
Another man walks by. This one, though, is casual, listening to headphones and bopping his head slightly to the beat of the music in his ears. Callouses on his left hand show his aptitude for the guitar.
A small women struts down the hallway and sits a seat away from me, staring at me through her designer sunglasses. Even though we are inside she still wears the thick rimmed frames, which is undoubtedly strange. So, although I'm sure that it is not a usual custom, I stare back. At first she seems confused, but then she shakes her head and looks away from me. Smiling to myself, I refocus my attention on the people around me.
Before I can properly observe more people, a voice speaks through the speakers yet again.
"NOW BOARDING FLIGHT 682, SOKOVIA. NOW BOARDING."
I stand and pull out my passport. The picture looks strange, like the image has been made of many faces, constructed to look like mine.
"Savannah Bartlette" the name reads. It also says I was born in Ohio. The United States passport in my hands earns me a smile from the woman checking my boarding pass.
"Enjoy your trip!" she beams at me.
"Thanks so much!" I reply smiling and laying on the accent yet again.
As soon as I pass the booth, my smile drops and I quickly walk to my seat near the back of the plane. Soon enough, when the plane is full of people, we start zooming down the runway. The plane takes off moments later. My breath hitches in my throat at the sudden lift off, and extreme vertical angle of the plane. The feeling is gone quickly though, leaving a trace of it only in the erratic beating of my heart.
It truly is exhilarating. During my training, I even learned to fly a plane. Nothing, though, could have prepared me for this. The ground quickly becomes small and the snowy landscape blankets the roads in a bright white.
The flight will be only an hour long, so I try to make quick work of the files I need to read. Looking back from the window I pull them out of my bag but quickly stuff them back in when a tall man sits in the isle seat next to me. He gives me a curt smile and fixes his suit as he sits down. We don't speak a word to each other but I know that I need to figure out what I'm getting myself into on this mission.
One thing I learned that I will always remember is that nobody notices (or cares) if you look like you belong.
So, I pull out the files anyways, proceeding to read them as if nothing is wrong. Slipping the papers out of their "CONFIDENTIAL" packaging, I place them on my lap.
Skimming over the information, I see key words that stick out.
"Volunteered for experimental procedures "
"Not yet in control of powers "
"Only two survived "
My mission, as it would seem, is to gather all the files on these "experimental procedures" and the files on the people that volunteered. Reading deeper, one name keeps reappearing. HYDRA. Through my years of training, I learned all about organizations like HYDRA. Their bases are huge and they will stop at nothing to do exactly what the set out to get done.
But so would I.
Some things would be easy. Some not. But this mission would be a success. It had to be.
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Thanks for reading ! I'm so excited with where the story is going! So let me know what you think! As always, all comments, suggestions, and votes are SO appreciated
Lots of love,
Brynn