The Agent
I never thought I’d step foot on another federal agency property again.
The building that once welcomed me with open arms loomed over me like a guard standing post, scrutinizing every inch of my body, silently wondering what my purpose was here.
From my all black attire, it knew my intentions weren’t good.
“Are you alright?” Mateo whispered from behind me.
“Yeah,” I replied quickly. I didn’t even glance over my shoulder, worried the film forming over my eyes may give my emotions away.
We were pressed up against the nearest corner on the perimeter of the building, inches away from the surveillance camera’s all-seeing eye.
Gabriel told us the agency bulked up its security measures after our attack on the safe-house. With the confirmation that Logan did have a target on his forehead, they limited access to the facility where he was being held. Only authorized personnel were allowed in.
The first of the many hurdles we needed to jump over for a successful mission.
“Cameras are down,” Maria’s automated voice came through the earpiece in my ear. Computer keys clicked in the background. “The card readers will go green in a second.”
Barely a moment after he spoke, the red light on the reader beside the back door changed colors, giving us a literal green light to move.
We hurried to the door and slipped through it into the hallway.
Stepping into the building felt like walking through a time machine. The sight of the shiny laminated floors and seemingly never-ending halls flooded my brain with memories from my time as an agent.
Training in Quantico. Meeting Gabriel. Earning my badge and credentials. Hanging around my desk, swimming through endless piles of paperwork.
This place used to bring me peace and joy. Now, knowing about all the lies and corruption that’s occurred within it, it made my chest ache.
Behind me, Mateo quietly pulled the door shut.
We glued ourselves to the wall, cloaking ourselves in the darkness there. Mateo stood close to me, waiting for my next move.
Tonight, he was following my lead. I knew the layout of this building like the back of my hand, so it only made sense.
At this time of night, I didn’t expect for any agents to be hanging around. The only ones I could think of would be the ones assigned to keep an eye on Logan. Still, I had to keep my eyes peeled for any surprises.
I didn’t see any silhouettes or catch any movement. The silence was louder than the usual pitter patter of shoes and chatter that usually fills the halls.
I led Mateo down the hall towards the stairwell at the end of it. We quietly crept up the ten stories towards the floor where the director’s offices were held.
We were met with carpet when we came out of the stairwell door, the fabric eating whatever sound our footsteps would’ve made.
I peeked around the first corner at the end of the hall when we hit it.
Two agents lingered in the hall there, guarding Logan’s office door. One had his head tilted back against the wall, his eyes hanging lower and lower with every passing second.
The other was more alert, his gaze bouncing between the opposite ends of the hall. To his partner, he looked like he was just keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings. But, really, he was waiting for our signal.
Involving Gabriel in our plan didn’t feel right, but he wouldn’t let me have it any other way.
He wanted to have my back - even if it cost him a stern scolding from the higher ups after all this went down.
A slap on the wrist was nothing to him. After what I’d told him, I doubted he’d even care if they fired him.
Not that it’d ever come to that. By design, it’d look like he’d tried to save Logan - he just made it a few minutes too late.
“He’s ready,” I whispered to Mateo, looking up at him.
“Alright. Are you sure you want to go in there alone?”
“I have to. This is my score to settle.”
He nodded. “I understand.” He leaned down to peck a kiss on my forehead. “Be careful.”
Mateo slipped from my side to the other side of the wall. Quickly, he hurried past the gap between the corners and sped down the opposite end of the hall. His silhouette disappeared around another corner. Moments later, three distinct slams echoed through the hall.
The loud sound jolted the weary agent out of his daze. “What the fuck?” He said. His hand went to the gun on his hip as he straightened up and started down the hall.
Gabriel followed close behind him. He glanced across the free space at me, catching a glimpse of me in the darkness. He gave me a nod before turning his head to keep a better eye on his partner.
With the coast clear, I headed down the hall and towards the office door. I lingered in the shadows for a moment, peeking through the slit of plexiglass on the door.
Logan was sitting in his office chair with a bottle of scotch in his hands, bathing in the silver light of the moon.
Gray streaks outnumbered the dark ones in his hair, and bags hung under his bloodshot eyes.
His gaze was fixed on the window, staring aimlessly at the skyline of buildings on the opposite side of the field.
Guilt couldn’t have been eating him. He never looked this bad when my father died.
He was just upset his sins were finally catching up with him - and he had no idea when they’d strike.
I carefully turned the knob and pushed the door open, minimizing the volume of the creak.
His eyes darted to the doorway, but he didn’t reach for a weapon. He clutched his bottle of liquor, a smile tugging at his lips. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, lifting the bottle to his mouth. “Another ghost to haunt me.”
“How many do you have?” I asked, continuing into the room. I shut and locked the door behind him. “My dad and I can’t be the only skeletons in your closet.”
“I stopped counting after the first.” His eyes raked over me. “You look different,” he mused. “I’m not so sure Xavier would be happy to know his daughter went from a reputable FBI agent to a knock off Catwoman.”
Hearing my father’s name fall so casually off his lips made my blood boil. I unhooked the gun on my hip and aimed it at his head. “Keep his name out of your motherfucking mouth,” I hissed.
He smiled. “You know, he would be ashamed if he knew what you’d turned into.”
“Maybe, but not as disappointed as he probably was in you.”
“You’re right,” he said. “I still remember his face the night I killed him. He gave me this long, heartfelt speech about fixing mistakes and justice and being a better man. For a second, I let him believe his words were getting to me. Feigned remorse, begged for his forgiveness - hell, I even gave him a hug. Then I emptied my clip on him.” He paused, the memory flashing behind his eyes.
“I’ll never forget the shock in his eyes as the light faded from them. It almost made me feel bad.”
“Was it worth it? The money? The promotions? The power?”
“Every damn bit of it.”
I couldn’t hold myself back another moment.
I stormed towards him, shoved his desk out of my way and smacked him across the face with my gun.
“You are a pathetic-” I hit him again. “Heartless!” Another thwack.
“Worthless!” I slammed my gun harder against his face, drawing blood.
“Piece of shit!” I gripped up his collar and stared down at his bloody face.
“He would have never, ever betrayed you like that! He was a good man! The best man!”
“And that’s what made him weak,” he spat, blood flying from his lips. “His strict moral compass led him to his own demise. If he would’ve kept his damn mouth shut and looked the other way, he’d still be alive right now. And so would you. All of this was preventable; he chose for it not to be.”
I shook my head. “Is that what you tell yourself? Do these lies help you sleep better at night?”
“Do yours?” He countered. “How many times did you tell yourself the trail of bodies was for your father when they were really for yourself?”
My brows pinched together, taken aback by his words.
He took my moment of confusion for weakness and shot up from his spot. One hand swiped the gun out of my hand while the other wrapped around my neck. He shoved me backwards onto the desk.
“You’re not avenging him,” Logan continued, his eyes lighting with a fire I’d never seen. “Justice was never bloodshed to him. No, you’re doing this to soothe your own rage, your own resentment - for everything we’ve taken from you.”
“No,” I murmured, squirming under his hold. “I’m not.”
“Such a hypocrite,” he continued, tightening his grip. “Calling me selfish when you’re just the same. At least I’m strong enough to look in the mirror and own my shit. When are you gonna grow up and own yours?”
“Right after I kill you.”
Logan’s brows came together. He must’ve thought he succeeded in throwing me off. Little did he know there was nothing he could say to deter me from what I had planned.
I lifted my feet up under his abdomen and pushed him off of me.
His body stumbled backwards, slamming into the wall behind him. Some of his framed certificates fell from the impact, clattering onto the floor.
I punched him in the face before he could recuperate. A knee to the gut followed, making him double over. I grabbed a handful of his hair and threw him down onto the floor.
“Simone,” he coughed as he tried to roll onto his back.
I kicked him in the face, turning him right back over. “That’s right, motherfucker,” I spat, giving him another kick. “Beg. Just like my father did. See how you fucking like it.”
He tried to grab my ankle on the next kick, but I dodged his hand. I plucked another gun from my waistband and shot him in the leg.
There was no bang from the silencer attached to the mouth, but Logan’s screams were just as loud. “Ah! Simone! What the hell are you-”
I pulled the trigger a few more times, avoiding every fatal spot. I didn’t want him dead too quickly. He deserved to feel this shit.
He hollered in agony as red bled through his clothes. His fingers clutched the wounds on his abdomen, desperate to stop the bleeding. “Simone! Simone, please! You’re better than this! You’re better than me!”
“No,” I said, my finger tightening around the trigger again. “I’m not.”
His body shook as bullets riddled through it, tearing through his skin and muscle. Blood splattered from the areas, decorating his awards and paperwork with red spots.
I kept my finger on the trigger until there were only soft clicks.
Logan’s body lay sprawled on the floor, eyes wide and mouth agape. A pool of blood formed underneath him, drowning his body in a sea of red.
I stared at him for a moment, waiting to feel something, anything. A wave of relief or sadness. Stones of grief or regret. Or even pride from crossing the last name off my list.
But there was nothing.
Just me, his dead body, and the deafening silence of the near-empty office.