3. Sharkie
Date: 4-24-2024
Time: 1446
Fucking prick. I’ve been seething over our interaction since it happened. My hand puppets his mouth mocking his statement as I storm down the promenade.
Wipe that smile off your face .
I feel like a child the way I’m acting and I’m sure the people passing by would more than agree or maybe think I’m simply insane, but I’m so used to releasing my pent-up irritation in the field that I don’t know what to do in a normal society at this point. I shake my head uncaring, it’s not like I’ll see any of their faces again and it’s not like they even know my name.
Deep breaths, stop being so dramatic it’s not that serious . After all, he’s doing the best job and making my job that much easier. I just wish he’d stop treating me as if I was his child, or worse, his subordinate. He’s only in his position because of me anyway.
Fuck, I wish he’d just keep his space, that’s what makes me so irritated. I do my job how he wants me to do it. Unlike before, there's no reason for him to try and intimidate me. He succeeded in his mission, making me the ‘secret weapon’ he always dreamed of having.
That fried food smell greets me again, seeping its scent out of the booths lining the boardwalk, wafting through the humid dusk breeze, drawing me towards them. Subtle hints of cotton candy and salty sea mist mingle in a satisfying way, making me wish I would’ve just saved my growling stomach for something better than lukewarm pizza. I dig the heels of my combat boots into the wooden planks below me, abruptly halting as a pair of kids take off sprinting across my path, holding their tickets proudly above their heads.
After I had left Bay’s headquarters, I immediately texted Karma. Luckily, the homebody agreed to leave her apartment to meet me at the seafront fair. Dragging her away from any screen is a feat, I figure it’s because she’s so used to staying attached to the action, to me.
I wonder what she’d be like if she wasn’t some twisted version of a secretary. When I met her, she was a timid thing, always jumping at the smallest touch and never speaking too loudly. She’s grown since, now a social butterfly when the situation is right, of course.
Blue and white lights follow above the metal railing, floating gently in the wind and illuminating the slowly dimming sky. The sight is so beautiful that I hardly notice Karma’s bright red hair swaying accompanied by an overly dramatic wave of her hand. My chest warms from her crooked smile.
Karma is the type of beauty that makes you question if angels fall from heaven, despite her always saying the devil kissed her head himself. I’d say God just didn’t notice when she fell through the gates and landed here.
She was the first person I met when joining Bay, ranking as a Private the same as me, which was odd since she’s older. She never wanted to get too close to the sparring mat or even glance toward the firing range, yet with logistics she was a natural. I guess you can say we grew together, four years of her standing by my side. She coded the way for me to climb the ranks.
“Cordelia!” she screeches, making me wince from the pitch.
“Ahh, so now you’ll use my name?” I taunt, relishing in the light-hearted atmosphere that surrounds us. It’s a rare thing, especially when most of our time together recently has been her telling me where the closest target is, not to mention she’s been more irritable than usual. I’m sure it’s just because we operate non-stop, always pushing through despite the chronic lack of sleep, lack of food… lack of time. When we hit a dead end, we have to go even harder; it’s been a lot of dead ends lately.
Being with her always calms my head. She reminds me that not everything is bloodshed and shark bait. At its core, I just don’t like being alone, and that’s why I cling to her so hard—she accepts it without a second thought. She needs my companionship as badly as I need hers.
“You know how it goes, I can’t—”
“ Say a pretty name while I’m doing vile things .” I mock, allowing her arm to hook through mine as she guides us through the dense crowd and towards the ferris wheel. I may hate bodily touch, but something about Karma screams safety; not to mention how she always moans if I don’t show her some sort of affection. Her love language is physical touch. Mines is more the ‘gift-giving-but-I’ll-stay-six-feet-away-at-all-times’ type. My gift to her today can be letting her drag me onto this goddamn rotating deathtrap.
“How’re you doing? Being home, I mean.” Her words are spoken as if they are meant to blend into the air, soft, almost unnoticeable. I never know how to answer that question, no matter how many times she asks it. It doesn’t feel like my home anymore. Home is out across the world, flashing through various countries and cities. Home is rain painting my skin as I walk through unknown lands. Home is freedom, not here where I’m plagued with memories of my parents and what could’ve been with the turn of every corner, constantly reminded of the life I once had and the opportunity that slipped through my fingers. I try to fight off the visions of them laughing inside a restaurant we pass by or swinging me along the beach, but it’s near impossible.
My head tilts up at the wheel, my throat fighting against my swallow as we reach the ticket booth. The usher gingerly takes our hands to lead us into a small cabin. Per usual, Karma shoots him a cheeky smile and he returns the gesture with a wink while I settle onto the bench, wrapping my fingers tightly along the edge, mentally preparing for my stomach to drop the moment we start moving.
“Don’t look over the side, Sharkie. You might get scared.” My dad’s head tilts back with his laugh, making the basket sway slightly.
My nails dig into the bench. I hate this.
“Don’t listen to him, love, just take a peek.” Mom’s voice is reassuring as always. “How are you supposed to swim lengths if you can’t fly heights as well? Just breathe.”
I look between them both. Dad’s movements are almost in slow motion as his arm wraps around me, eyes shining as bright as the stars in the sky as he stares at my mom.
I hoped one day to have a carefree love like that, but now I have too many demons in my closet.
“Home is fine.” I say, delayed. I swallow hard and try not to think about how high we’ll be going. “I mean, nothing’s changed, ya know?” A smile forces its way to my lips, feigning the cool composure as the cart shifts and the wheel starts to turn.
Her sigh carries the weight of the words I know she wants to say, but as always, she holds her tongue. This isn’t the time for interrogation, I’m not a prisoner, though I feel like it, trapped in this stupid flimsy little seat. Nothing would stop me if I slipped, or if it tilted too much, or… or…
“That’s good.” Her statement interrupts my growing panic, her head turning to take in the sight I refuse to acknowledge. “So, I’m stuck with you for two more days, huh? Or are you going to lock yourself in the gym again?” She laughs, tossing her hair, those thick mascara-coated lashes flicking over her deep gray irises. The gym is a tempting idea but who knows if this is the last chance I get to spend time with her.
“Two full days of me crashing on your couch and eating all your pickles until I’m packed up and shipped back off.” I weakly laugh in return, even though I can feel the pizza threatening to remerge out the way it entered. My knuckles whiten as I grip the cart harder.
Her nose crinkles, the soft white and blue hues cascading along her pale skin to highlight a faint scar on her brow. She is the type of woman I envy, the confidence she holds in her curves as she crosses one leg over the other and her arm resting along the back of the bench. She never covers the marks of her past; you can see them peek from the deep v of her top. We never talked about where they came from, but I don’t speak about mine either, so it’s understandable.
The sudden jerk of the carriage knocks the breath out of my lungs. I look up at the one ahead, two kids, maybe twelve or thirteen laughing. How do they do it? At least in planes I can shut the window and pretend I’m in one of those stupid stimulators. Here, I am fully aware of the plummeting drop below our rocking cart.
“Speaking of shipping off,” Karma continues, glancing behind us to the empty carriages as if I’m not having a heart attack beside her, “your mode of transportation will be by ship. You’ll be docked about four miles off from their base and you’ll have a team, of course, but—”
“A ship?” My throat begins spasming and I shake my head in confusion, unsure if she is trying to be funny or if she did just speed past her first sentence as if it was completely insignificant news. I don’t care how many times my parents said it was rude to interrupt, it’s not going to stop me when I’m threatened with my worst fear, wading deeper than shallow waters. I’m only called Sharkie thanks to my dad’s humor about my childhood penchant for biting.
Her long slim arms cross in front of her chest, unamused by my legitimate concerns. Her expressions really say everything for her, the narrowness in her stare, and the slight snarl on her red-painted lips.
“Yes, that's how Tide transports new recruits. Dutton personally picked the route, you know, so we knew you’d be safe.” She looks at me. There’s that signature sigh again. “Take a breath, your anxiety is really fucking up my ride.”
I take a small inhale through my nose. It feels like she lives inside my head. I just have to focus on how this will end; either Depth will burn to the ground and I’ll walk away or my body will burn with it. There will be no in-between, and this time, there will be no second chances.
Forcing my head, I straighten my back and peer at the only safe spot that exists—the horizon where the water curves along the world. I have nothing to fear .
“Are you good?”
“Yeah.”
“ Liar .”
The cart jerks rounding the circle again, but I hardly notice, too lost in the horizon. Too lost in knowing he is out there.
“As I was saying,” Karma continues over the squeak of the cart, “you and the team will have plenty of time to get to shore. You’ll enter the base fifteen minutes apart, going under different aliases. Don’t worry, yours is perfect .”
I roll my eyes at the amusement in Karma’s voice. The lower we get, the looser my chest feels and the easier it is to breathe.
“Dutton has given you free rein from there. Use the team as you see fit. I’ve already sorted your loadout, the best of the best.” Her chin tilts up. I can practically taste her self-assurance, it’s tangible, a force field that surrounds her like a second skin. There’s no question that half of the equipment given will be her ideas brought to life by expert craftsmanship.
My legs wobble on their own as the door finally opens. I’m almost willing to drop to my knees and kiss the ground. As if sensing my internal thoughts, Karma wraps her arm over my shoulder.
“Free rein over my own team? How generous.” I mumble, my brows furrowing from my sentence. He was the best choice. He was the best choice . And it was my choice. After a beat of silence, I already know what’s coming. Raising my palm in her direction, I continue weaving through the crowd. “Don’t fucking sigh again!”
I swear her laugh overpowers the masses. Her shoulder bumps into mine as swarms of people push past. My favorite booth lies ahead, and I refuse to leave here without a prize, especially since it’s probably my last chance being home that I’ll be able to do so. Putting a crumpled ten dollar note down, I pick up the stack of darts behind the counter. The vendor gives me a dirty look, but I don’t care, living with my life on the line gives me the right to do it how I like. I stick my tongue out at him and he turns away.
Before I can even toss my first dart, a large figure steps in front of me, a muscular wall between me and my mission. Karma’s pointy fingers push into my back, amusement radiating off her.
“ Instead of focusing on a child’s game , why don’t you focus on getting laid ?” It’s a whisper all too loud for my liking, causing the man’s muscles to flex beneath the tight black sweatshirt he’s wearing.
My elbow lodges backward into Karma’s ribs, hoping she’ll maybe shut up and not draw attention towards us. In the end, it’s me who fucked up. Her dramatic grunt makes the man’s head turn in our direction.
Something about the intensity in his glare, barely concealed by his pulled-down hood, has my stomach flipping again. It’s not like I don’t get laid, recruits are perfect for that, but when was the last time? More importantly, when was the last time I enjoyed it? Then it clicks and just as quickly as my stomach flips, it plummets.
“My apologies. Did I cut in front of you?” The man’s voice comes out in a smooth American accent, rendering me speechless. My brain feels fried trying to process what’s happening. The last time I saw him, his physique was smaller, and less stubble lined his jaw. Even his voice is unfamiliar with a hoarse edge to it like he’s just inhaled smoke that doesn’t faze him. Not even his database profile headshot looks like the man standing in front of me. There is no way he’d be stupid enough to come into my territory.
But I know it’s him.
The sharp point of the dart skims over the tip of my thumb, grounding me as the seconds tick by. Does he recognize me? Why is he here? Is he armed and ready for revenge? His deep green eyes flick between mine, searching for some clue that I recognize his face. I keep still. He wants me to realize it’s him but all I can think about is how this dart is sharp enough that if I throw it into his eye, I might hit his brain.
He gestures to the booth and for a moment, I don’t even realize what he is doing. When my brain finally catches up, I step forward.
“Thanks.” I mumble because it’s all I can muster. Don’t give yourself up, Sharkie . I could just end this all here and now, but that would defeat everything. Patience. Right now, it’s running so thin I think I’m starting to see spots.
I throw, a balloon pops. I should tell Karma that he’s right here on our land. It’d be so easy. Pop. But if I tell her, she’ll run to Dutton. Pop. I’m so close to wiping Depth out. Pop . No one is going to ruin that.
I won’t ruin that.
“Got a name?” That damn fake voice makes my hand tremble, and I miss a balloon. I never miss these things. I thought I’d kill him quickly and get it over with, but now when I do get my hands on him, he’ll suffer since I didn’t win my damn stuffed animal.
“Cordelia?” Karma chirps behind me, noticing the way my lips are parted, but nothing is coming out. I try to calm my racing heart and ignore the way my shirt is sticking to the beads of sweat on my back. My skin tingles like a thousand ants are crawling my flesh while he looks over my body.
She said my name. Now he knows my name. If he does recognize me, I’m fucking screwed.
Everything in me screams run, but my feet are glued to the concrete below. I thoroughly scan his features, starting at the bit of hair peeking from below the hood, the dark flares now looking more peppered than the last time I saw him, the sharp chisel of his jaw, the white scar just across the right side of his throat barely visible below the collar. I linger on the bubbled imprint longer than I should, sinking my teeth into the side of my cheek to keep from grinning.
You’re welcome, asshole.
He studies me just as intently. The small smirk on his lips almost looks forced as he extends his arm. My vision blurs when i clasp my hand into his. A sharp sting radiates through my palm up to my wrist. My fingers loosen around his knuckles, but he tightens his grasp, so I take a deep inhale to suppress a wince. He’s digging a blade into my skin.
“You’re looking at me as if I’m in trouble. She’s the good cop and you’re the bad one, right?”
My nose crinkles to suppress the pain inching along my flesh. Karma does another one of her giddy laughs, causing him to drop his hold.
I need to get us out of here.
“Right.” I answer with a small grin curling my lips to keep appearances, my fist balling at my side. I’ve never been good at flirting, so my behavior isn’t unusual. It’s better for Karma to think this is just an embarrassing moment than to focus on who the man is. I brush my wound against my dark jeans, drawing his focus to the movement. I can’t take my eyes off him.
“Well, it was nice to meet you, Cordelia ,” he draws my name out, committing it to memory, “and?” He looks at my red-headed companion. Don’t reply, don’t reply . She bats her lashes and twirls a bit of her hair.
“Karma.”
God fucking damn it.
He nods, his lips pushing into a smirk. And just like that, he turns away. Like a shark to blood, I nearly choke on the saliva that pools in my mouth from the scent that wafts off his clothes. Exactly the same as before, sweet cigar and sea salt.
“Wow.” Karma practically whistles. If my body grows any stiffer, it won’t be long before I turn into a stone.
He’s gotten onto my land and stepped foot on my shores.
I’m going to kill him.