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“Do I need to remind you what is at stake here?” The woman leaned back further in her chair, smoking a cigarette. “What would happen…” She got up and walked to the TV in the lounge, pointing at the feed. “...if that turncoat son of a bitch masquerading as an agent were to recover our master file before we do?” Her wrinkly finger pointed toward an image taken of Rio Vidal conversing with Agatha Harkness on a train.
“I’ll find her,” the deputy director promised. “You have my word.”
“Deputy Director, is that like when you gave me your word that Vidal would never get within a hundred miles of her?”
The man faltered, at a loss for words. “We can still contain this, ma'am.” He spoke up after a moment.
“I’m overwhelmed with confidence.” The director, The Witch, spat sarcastically.
***
“Now, this doesn’t make any sense. Why—why would the Division care about me?” Agatha tilted her head curiously.
“‘Cause you’re a goddamn fortune-teller, sweetheart.” Rio took a seat across from where she was standing.
“Don’t call me sweetheart,” Agatha snapped. She needed answers, not cute nicknames.
Rio defensively raised her hands in the air, still holding her whiskey in one hand. “Alright, alright. But you are known for predicting events, aren’t you?”
Agatha took a seat. “I mean, come on. It doesn’t take a genius to imagine a covert intel organization the world doesn’t know about.” She scoffed.
“It sure as shit does to predict they go rogue,” Rio said, resting her legs on the table in front of her. Agatha turned toward Rio suddenly. Rio nodded slowly. “Yeah. Somehow, you wrote a story that’s still unfolding as we speak.” Rio nodded toward Agatha’s backpack, sitting on the floor a few feet away. “Book five.”
“You read book five?”
“Oh, yeah. The bad guys, too.”
“The Division has read book five?” Agatha was thoroughly shocked. The thought of some secret evil organization reading her silly little manuscript was…interesting, to say the least.
“The Division doesn’t miss a single keystroke of yours, Harkness.” At least she’d moved on from random pet names to just her last name. Agatha felt strangely relieved and disappointed at that. “But your new manuscript kicked a hornet’s nest you didn’t even know existed. That’s why The Division wants you, and once they have you, they’re never gonna let you go, or worse. Much, much worse.” Rio leaned closer and closer with every word, the threat looming over Agatha’s head. Then, she suddenly pulled back, refilling her glass. “Really warms the heart, doesn’t it?” She smiled innocently at Agatha.
***
“Oh, Lizzie.” The Witch whispered, stroking the top of the rifle. “You’re my only comfort.” She picked the rifle up, brandishing it threateningly. “Did you know that Lizzie was my grandmother’s? She named it after her mother. A CMMG Mk47 Mutant of the finest condition.” The deputy director, suddenly scared for his life, nodded. “My grandmother, she was a very strict woman.” The Witch continued. “But I always found her reasonable.” She loaded up the rifle, leaning it on her knee. “And she had a policy. She would only kill if it was absolutely necessary.” She cocked the gun, pretending to inspect it as she aimed it toward the deputy. “For food, or to vanquish an enemy, or to eliminate an incompetent imbecile. ” She lined the gun up with the man’s head now, raising a gray eyebrow.
“Mistakes were made,” the deputy’s voice shook from fear. “They won’t happen again.”
“Oh, I know they won’t.” The Witch laughed, swatting her hand. She picked up the gun and let it hang over her shoulder, the nozzle pointed in the opposite direction now. “Of that, I’m certain.” And then she turned around and pressed the trigger, letting the bullet blow a hole through the man’s head.
***
“This isn’t happening.” Agatha shook her head in denial, rocking back and forth.
“Yeah, it is,” Rio snickered. “It’s definitely happening.” She glanced up at the screen with the CCTV feed still on it, and Agatha followed her gaze. “But if you want a way out, if you want your life back, I’m the good guy here.” Rio tilted her head, pretending to think. “Or good girl.” Agatha coughed suddenly, not expecting the tone of voice. Rio sat up, sighing as she dusted her pants off. “But you gotta help me first.”
Agatha narrowed her eyes at the agent. “What exactly is it that you need me to do?”
Rio simply smiled. “I’ll tell you on the way.”
***
Agatha looked out the window, her eyes following the gentle curves of the dark mountains outside. She glanced at the clock, the time reading well past 2 am.
Absolutely lovely.
It was obvious that she didn’t want to be here, but she also hated the way she couldn’t do anything. Agatha Harkness was a strong, independent woman, and she didn’t require help from anyone.
Which is why she was pissed that she was currently the damsel in distress. Rio saving her felt condescending. Agatha had worked her way up to being one of the best-selling authors worldwide, and she wasn’t about to let some random spy make her feel like she couldn’t save herself. She knew that she absolutely could not fight off bad guys, but she had other skills. She was good at lots of other things. She hated being helped in a way that made her feel like she couldn’t do it herself (even if, in this case, she actually could not), and so she was glaring daggers at Rio.
“So are those fuck-me eyes, or I-dare-you-to-arrest-me-for-your-murder eyes? ‘Cause either one right now is a no.”
Agatha rolled her eyes. Why did Rio have to be so outright? “They’re I-know-you-lied-to-me eyes. I know you’re not telling me things. How am I supposed to trust you?”
That was another point. Agatha knew nothing about this woman, besides the fact that she had saved her from men that had already wanted to kill her. For all she knew, this could be a ruse, and Rio would want to gut her somewhere in the woods. There’s nothing Agatha Harkness hated more than being in the dark and being helpless.
“I’m a spy. Spies lie. It’s part of the gig, babes.” Rio poked her tongue against her cheek again, raising her eyebrows as her gaze stayed on the road. “That, and killing people.”
Agatha didn’t know how to reply. It was clear that Rio wasn’t going to stop with the nicknames, and her doing that weird thing with her tongue momentarily distracted her from what she was going to say. She took a second to recalibrate before settling for a “Well, that’s really reassuring,” hoping her voice didn’t shake too much.
Apparently, it shook enough to the point where Rio quickly spared a glance at her. “Are you cold or something?”
“What?”
“No, with the way your voice is trembling, I figured you must be shivering.”
Agatha scoffed and took a look at Señor Scratchy in his carrier, curled up in a fluffy ball. “No, but Señor Scratchy might be.”
“Aww,” Rio turned the heat up. “I can’t have my favorite rabbit getting cold.”
“Favorite? You met him twelve hours ago.”
“I can get close with people within twelve hours.” She said, looking at Agatha for a little too long.
Agatha raised an eyebrow. Was this flirting?
She pushed that thought aside quickly. No agent would randomly flirt with their assignment.
Unless their job was to get close to them and get said subject to trust them?
What if she was being manipulated?
She shook her head, hoping to shake those thoughts out with it. She couldn’t be overthinking. She was considering the odds of Rio having sex with her and then shooting her directly after when she heard Rio speak up again. “Will you believe me more if I tell you the truth?”
“Yes.”
“Fine, listen.” Rio’s grip tightened around the steering wheel. “What you wrote in your new manuscript actually happened. But it wasn’t Agnes. It was me.” Agatha raised an eyebrow. Rio took a deep breath, continuing. “I brought in this hacker. I hired this scumbag named Billy to steal the Division’s master file. You know, with all of the information on who’s rogue.”
***
Billy had tapped away at his keyboard, pulling up the contents of the file. He'd dialed a number on a burner, waiting for them to answer. “Yeah, I’ve got the file.” He'd said once they’d picked up. “Everyone you asked for. The Witch, Ralph, and others. I’ve got proof of bombings, election fraud, radioactive poisonings; these lot make Darth Vader look like Mary Poppins.”
Rio’s voice had come from the other end. “So?”
Billy had sighed. “I’ve put your precious file on a flash drive.” He had concealed the flash drive in a plastic case similar to the shape of a big silver bullet. He'd spun it back and forth between his fingers slowly. “And I reckon the Division will give me a lot more not to give this silver bullet to you.”
Rio had sighed from the phone. “The fuck do you want, kid?”
Billy had ignored her calling him a kid when he was well into his 20s. “Price just tripled. We still got a deal?”
Rio had groaned. “Yeah, okay. We got a deal, Billy.”
“Thought so,” Billy had simply chuckled, hanging up.
***
“The file was my silver bullet to bring the Division down, the proof I was gonna use to expose them. But when I went to London to meet Billy...” Rio trailed off.
“What happened?” Agatha prompted; she could see it all playing out in front of her, and she was kind of invested.
“Now the Division and I are racing to find him. And we both think that your fantastic imagination is the key.” Agatha had to suppress a smile. The Division wanted her for her imagination? “So where is he now?”
And just like that, Agatha’s mood dropped. “No, no, no. You can’t expect me to know the answer to that.”
“Why not? Just tell me what happens in the next chapter.”
Was she serious?
Yes, Agatha was confident in her plots, but she couldn’t exactly conjure up whatever she wanted and change the course of reality. Rio severely underestimated how hard it was to be a writer. “What you’re asking me to do takes months of research. Years, even. Reading, interviewing, memorizing maps, getting to know a city—I’ve never even been to London before.”
“Well, great. Let’s start there.” Rio smirked, hanging a left. Agatha looked ahead to see a tarmac stretched out in front of them, a small airplane waiting on it. Her eyes widened. “Ta-daaaa.” Rio weakly cheered.
"I...I don’t do planes.” Agatha stammered. “I met…I met you on a train for a reason.”
“The chances of you dying in a plane crash are, like, one in 11 million. Chances if you stay here and let the Division find you, not so good.” Rio parked the car a few yards away from the open door of the plane. “Right now, that plane is your best friend.” Agatha shivered, her hands fidgeting. She bounced her leg as she tried to catch her breath. “What do you say?” Rio turned to her, turning off the car and draping an arm over Señor Scratchy’s carrier. Her eyes rounded as she realized the state Agatha was in. She set a comforting hand on Agatha’s shoulder, gesturing for her to breathe with her. Agatha took a few deep breaths, the tears that were threatening to spill retreating with a few blinks.