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I beg of you to forgive me; to ignore what I’ve become. However, I implore you to listen to my tale. I haven’t got much time left, they’ll be closing in on me soon. I suppose I should start from the beginning then.My name is Diana, at least it used to be. You have to know that it isn’t my real name, one never gives their real name in my line of work. After all that has happened I wonder if they’ll ever know my real name or if I’ll forever be referred to as simply ‘Diana’. I work for a private investigations sector. I almost laughed the first time I heard that. You see, we don’t act anything like how it may sound and we barely do any detective work. Most of us are people who’ve been picked of the streets, soldiers, gangsters, and so on. We’ve always had it rough though I suppose that’s what bonds us.Our organization has three sectors, technically three though I’m almost certain the third is purely executive. Whoever created the operation lies in the third section, where our orders come from. The big man on top, we’ve always called him. We don’t know who he is and the only thing we’ve been able to gather is that he’s an ancient history nerd (Should I be calling my boss a nerd?). Like I mentioned earlier, my code name is Diana, namesake of the Roman goddess of the hunt. All of us have names that pertain to some form of mythology that separates us into sectors. The main sector, including the big man, is Egyptian mythology while the other two sectors are Greek/Roman and Norse mythology. From there the sectors have a singular captain who report up. But even they haven’t met the boss himself, who only communicates through his two daughters (at least, we think they’re his daughters) Hathor and Sekhmet. I always found it entertaining how our code names actually match out personalities and often find myself relating to the introverted Diana myself. If you, dear reader, know anything about mythology then you’re aware of what sector I serve in: Greek and Roman. My captain is Jupiter or Arthur Jones, a strict but laid-back man who constantly seeks to better his team. Along with Jupiter, Argo is our hard-headed hooligan. He works closely with Jupiter and is his right hand man. Now that I think about it I’m not sure he ever told me his real name. Argo acts too damn mysterious for my liking. What’s the man got to hide? Next is Pandora; a wise girl who’s too curious for her own good. Pandora’s real name is Nora Shaheen. We’ve worked together a lot and I can’t help but admire her imaginative nature.The leader of the Norse faction is Erik Hjelm, who goes by the name of Odin. Bara, his right hand, is a nautical expert who can get us into international waters in a heartbeat. Only a couple of weeks ago, I learned her real name was Clara Williams. I could’ve sworn I’ve heard her name before but I just can’t place it. Last but not least is Loki and Fenris. Paolo and his son Mateo Barbati are the imps of the team, and nobody know exactly what they contribute other than headaches and impulsive decisions. The two sectors often butt heads so it isn’t often that we get together except for once annually, at the beginning of the new year. We would all gather in a secret place (Wouldn’t be secret anymore if I told you, no?) and finalize our yearly reports as well as set expectations for the new year. I suppose that’s when it all went wrong. It started out as it always did, with me shivering from the chill of winter in New York, contemplating if I should quit my job if it was even possible.
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I look up at the concrete building, almost identical to the once next to it with it’s unnervingly symmetrical windows and balcony’s connected by the fire escapes. My fist clenched around the suitcase sitting idly next to me, packed to the brim with clothing and only slightly illegal materials. Naturally, I had no idea where I was to be sent and therefore couldn’t pack for the weather which somehow annoyed me more than going in blind. I really should quit my job, though no matter how many times I had tried I just couldn’t get myself to leave. Which of course just left me with a filled out resignation letter taunting me on my desk. I had just assumed that there was an option to quit within my profession. I mean, even if I did quit I found myself wondering if I would be content sitting at a desk and doing paperwork for the rest of my life. A loud honk tore me from my thoughts and I turned around to see a small girl yelling at me from within a taxi. She had half of her body out of the window and was waving her hands around wildly in an attempt to get my attention. She had a round face with dark brown hair that would trick you into thinking it was black. Her hazel eyes seemed darker in the cloudy weather, opposed to their usual golden shine in the sun. She was demanding that I hurry up and was starting to get us some strange looks so I had no choice but to oblige, turning away from my apartment and putting my suitcase in the trunk of the taxi. She opens the door for me and I sit down next to her in the back seat. “What do you think our job is this time, Diana?” She asks, her eyes alight with excitement and curiosity.”Best not to discuss it here.” I say simply, even though I had found myself wondering the very same thing.She nods disappointedly, leaning against the window and resting her chin on a closed fist. I took a moment to look around the dingy cab.At a glance, it would seem like a normal New York taxi with its chipped yellow exterior and a small sign on top that simply read ‘Taxi’ in bold, black lettering. But when you stepped inside, it was in pristine condition like the outside was merely a facade made to trick the ignorant. The black seats never held any sort of crumbs or debris and if you had brought mud along with you then you would find it gone without a trace the next time you were picked up. On a long ride, I had found myself bored enough to draw a small star in permanent marker on the seat in front of me. The next time I was in the car, it was gone without a trace and I found it entrancing. The star was barely visible against the black fabric of the seat and I had completely forgotten about it until I found myself staring at the back of the seat and didn’t see a trace of it, even when I looked closely. Taxi’s the agency sends always feel wrong and the one’s that I had been in had always had the same driver. It had struck me as odd when the taxi driver greeted us, usually they drove without a word, moving us to a destination only they knew. At that moment I realized it was a different driver, which perplexed me further. He looked so mundane, just like the last driver and I don’t think I would’ve noticed the change had he not have spoken. He had scraggly brown hair that curled into tight coils and his eyes shown with a brightness that made me assume he was either new to the job or annoyingly optimistic. I offered him a humorless smile before looking out the window as the car started to move. I glanced over at Pandora but by now she was so absorbed in the scenery that I doubt she would have noticed anything else.I simply sighed and decided to wait out the ride in silence, assuming that it was a far drive. I was wrong. Apparently, this job required leaving the country because he dropped us off at the JFK Airport. The car stopped in the parking lot and the driver turned around, handing us two tickets to London. I sighed in irritation while Pandora was ecstatic, she loved traveling and spent all of her free time booking flights across the world. I think it made her feel alive, like she was scratching an itch she couldn’t quite reach when she was stuck in one place for too long. I, however, am the opposite. Of course I had gone around the world a couple of times to complete jobs but that was one too many times for me. When I settled in America my plan was to resign and stick in one spot for the rest of my life. I guess I just never got around to it.Pandora and I took our respective tickets, stepping out of the cab and getting our bags out of the trunk. I hated airports, I always have. When I was a little girl my father travelled around a lot, much to my dismay. Airports always struck a specific nerve within me with its bustling nature and crowded gates. I was only happy when we had gotten onto the plane, it was so serene that I could only sit there and enjoy the silence. So, I was rather irritated when we stepped into the airport and I was almost run over by a group of collage frat boys. Pandora grabbed my arm to stop me from falling and straightened me, looking at my ticket to see if we were seated next to each other. Of course, we weren’t, we never were. When members of the agency were placed on the same flight we had to be on opposite ends of the plane, not to be seen together for too long. Hell, we were barely placed in the same taxi together. We looked at each other for a moment before nodding, we were to separate and come back together in the taxi in London.I made my way to a coffee shop to give her a head start to the gate. I ordered a simple black coffee before sitting down in the corner, digging my laptop out of my bag and opening it while I let my coffee cool. The first thing I did was put in headphones to drown out the unbearable noise around me. I had always found that coffee shops were natural dampeners of noise, a place where there was just enough noise to be comfortable but not enough to be annoyed. I loved coffee shops. My computer was always a mess of files, as I was forbidden to organize and make it easier for other people to make sense of my work. It took a bit of digging to find my emails and scroll to find any sort of email warning me of what to look for when I reach London. I didn’t even know if I was going to stick with Pandora or if we were to be separated once we reach our destination. After scrolling for quite some time, I found a new email from one ‘A. Jones’ and I knew I had found my letter. It read as follows. Dear Diana, I am sorry to draw you away from New York again, let alone bring to London once more. But, as I’m sure you’ve realized by now, we’re not the ones able to control the choices made for us. We’ve been called back, just as we always are. This time, I believe, will give us more choice and dare I say change. Forgive the ramblings of an old fool, Diana, for I have hope yet for change. I can feel a new era beginning, one where we won’t have to work anymore. One where we will truly have one last mission together. I hope we’ll all live to see that day. In the next couple of days we will meet, all together, and put an end to the very thing that created us. Let us fight together one last time, my dear, so that we all may be free from this path.See you in London, Arthur Jones I sigh, shutting my laptop, the time alone it took to find the message had left my coffee too cold for my liking. But I drank it anyways as I put my computer away and headed towards the gate that my ticket indicated. As I went through security and finally sat down in my seat, I felt a weight dropped off of me. I always hated going through security and being pulled to the side and threatened for what I had in my luggage. They always had to call Arthur or Erik and the whole affair always took it out of me. I guess I had been pulled to the side enough at this airport for them to recognize me and let me through without a fuss. I felt the familiar pressure in my head as the plane started to take off and I laid back against my seat, closing my eyes and drifting into sleep.
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Pandora glanced back at her coworker as she stalked into a quiet cafe, watching her sullen friend order and sit down in the corner (As she had found herself in the habit of placing herself as far from the crowd as possible). Pandora chuckled to herself, turning and walking to the gate her ticket indicated. She could already feel the damp air of London, the noise of cars and people moving in a constant stream of motion. It was going to be cold, no doubt. It was the middle of winter, after all, and she couldn’t wait to feel the air sting her lungs and the chill freeze her hands. During Pandora’s travels, she learned a very crucial piece of information about herself. She hated the heat. The constant feeling of being weighed down by the blistering heat, filling her with such animosity that she would simply shut down, crushed almost the moment she started to sweat. “Miss, would you step aside for a moment?” The security guard asks, pulling her from her thoughts. She hadn’t even noticed she reached the front of the line, overtaken by her thoughts as her body went on autopilot, placing her bag and her shoes in the little gray box that was handed to her. Pandora nods and follows him to the side, watching him pull on his rubber gloves with a sickening snap. He opens her suit case slowly and gently, as if something inside was already crouched, waiting to jump out and bite him. At a glance, her case looked normal, almost boringly so. Her clothes folded neatly, stacked in assorted piles and strategically places so as to not take up too much space but to take up exactly the amount of space that she intended it to.Upon further inspection and quite a bit of prodding, a zipper below the clothing was revealed, one that lead to a secret compartment between the lining of her suitcase. Inside the pocket held a rather improper amount of persuaders (At least that was what Pandora liked to call them). A small knife, on the could be easily concealed within a coat pocket or placed within a sleeve . The other item was an unloaded revolver attended by a bag of bullets (Much to Diana’s dismay, who had tried to convince Pandora to throw the old gun away, insisting that it would jam in the most unreliable to times).At this, the guard paused, looking up at Pandora with a nervous gaze. The raven haired girl merely shrugged, “I have a permit, promise.” She says, passing him her passport, proving her affiliation with the government (though not detailing which government). He takes a glance through her passport, flipping through the pages and looking over the various stamps Pandora had collected over her years of travel before sighing.”You won’t be allowed to carry this bag with you, it will be stored under the plane with the rest of the luggage.” He mutters, keeping his gaze stuck on her suitcase as he places everything as it was and hands it to one of his nearby coworkers. “On your way now. Safe travels, Miss.”Pandora nods, “Thank you, sir.” She says, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and walking to her assigned gate, sitting down with her bag by her feet. She gets a sudden thought, pulling her bag out of her laptop and sifting through her messages until one sticks out to her. Pandora’s message reads as follows: My dearest Pandora,I regret to inform you that you won’t be able to reach London at the same time as your dear friend. For your flight will stop in the city of Belfast in Northern Ireland. I need you to do something for me. There is a place, in Balmoral, where you’ll pick up a package. Find the house with leaves climbing its heights, its yellow paint cracked and hidden by the greenery. On the door you will find a sign that reads ‘Bed and Breakfast (As well as company for those who seek it)’. Inside you will find a woman who goes by the name of Lyla, tell her Arthur sent you and she will give you a package. Do not open it. Please forgive the inconvenience,Arthur Jones, Jupiter And it is then that Pandora finds herself in Belfast, looking for a yellow house.As she wanders the streets her eyes are caught by a passing girl, one who’s eyes looked vaguely familiar. Pandora’s eyes follow the girl as she walks into an alleyway and she follows. Instead of a dead end, like she had expected, there was a yellow door. Surrounding the door was a yellow house, though it was only partially seen as it was covered by the two green houses in front of it. Damn that man and his analogies, couldn’t he ever make anything straightforward? The only plants that she could see were painted vines among the houses exterior, climbing all the way to the roof in a flurry of carefully painted stems and leaves. Her eyes caught a sign in the window, confirming that it was the place she was looking for. She walks down the alleyway, walking up the brick steps to the door, knocking on it a couple of times before taking a small step back and waiting for a response. The girl she followed answers the door and ushers her inside, taking her coat.”Are you here for the bed and breakfast?” She asks, glancing back at Pandora as she leads her to a small desk with an older woman behind it.Pandora stops as her eyes fall on the woman, “I’m looking for a woman named Lyla. Arthur sent me.” She says.The woman behind the desk scoffs, “Morgan get her what she needs.” She shoos the girl off, turning her strict gaze to Pandora. “You tell Arthur that he can face me himself, the old coward.”Pandora nods, stifling a laugh as Morgan returns with a small yellow paper, one that was generally used to hold files. Pandora takes it and nods, “Thank you both.” She says, turning to leave. “Be safe.” Lyla calls after her as Pandora grabs her coat and walks out of the yellow door.Another thing for Pandora to laugh at. Safety. When was the last time she felt safe? She couldn’t remember.
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First of all, I’m sorry bc I didn’t really plan what to do and I’m sure you can tell. I also want to make edits so I don’t dump characters on y’all right away. So I’m going to take a break for a while until I’m able to get a clear plan to avoid plot holes and obvious twists.