Chapter 2: Unlikely Convergence

Edith

As I settle into my desk at Cameron Jones Associates, the hum of the office machinery surrounds me. My job here is more than just taking clients and subpoenaing people; it's about gathering information, strategizing, and executing missions with precision.

Today, Markus my long-time pseudo-brother meets me at my desk, a cup of coffee in hand. "Morning, Edith. Ready for another thrilling day at the office?" he says with a smirk.

I roll my eyes playfully. "Always. What's on the agenda for today?"

Markus leans in, his voice lowering. "We've got a new mission. Intel suggests that the government is developing a new bioweapon, and they're getting close to completing it. We need to get our hands on the blueprints before they do."

My heart quickens at the thought of the mission. "Got it. Any leads?"

Markus nods. "Yeah, there's a high-ranking official in the government who's been overseeing the project, Eric Stevenson. We believe he's got the blueprints stored in his office. We'll need to break in and extract them." He tossed the file onto my desk, flipping through it, there wasn't much on this guy, only that he seemed arrogant and annoying. Borrowing the blueprints should be fun.

I nod, mentally preparing myself for the task ahead. "Sounds like a plan. Let's get to work."

---

Navigating through the labyrinthine corridors of the government building, I keep to the shadows, avoiding security cameras and guards. With Markus guiding me through my earpiece, I arrive at the mark's office.

Slipping inside, I quickly locate the safe, cunningly concealed behind a large painting. I glance at the time — I have a ten-minute window, and it's evident that Mr. Stevenson was here not too long ago. I swiftly retrieve the thermal gun from my bag and use it to detect the residual heat left by Mr. Stevenson's fingers on the safe's keypad. With Markus guiding my every move, I skillfully decipher the four-number combination and make short work of cracking the lock. With a sense of satisfaction, I retrieve the crucial blueprints.

Just as I'm about to make my escape, a voice echoes through the room, freezing me in my tracks. Every muscle in my body tenses as I strain to discern the source of the voice. Is it a security guard? An unexpected visitor? My mind races, considering my options as adrenaline courses through my veins.

---

Zain

"Zain, my boy, come in," my father's voice crackles over the intercom, pulling me away from the intricate project I've been engrossed in. It's always an interruption, always a demand from him.

I push away from my worktable and make my way to his opulent office. As I enter, I find him sitting behind his expansive desk, his expression inscrutable. "Father," I acknowledge with a nod, waiting for whatever news he has to impart.

He gestures for me to take a seat, but I remain standing in silent defiance. "Zain, I've been reviewing your recent work, and I must say, I'm impressed. You're proving to be quite the asset to Hemingway Industries," he remarks, his tone laced with a hint of approval.

I restrain the urge to roll my eyes as I respond, "Thank you, father. But I've made it clear before that this isn't the path, I see for myself."

His brow furrows in frustration. "Zain, we've been over this. You're a Callahan. You must carry on the family legacy," he insists, his voice leaving no room for argument.

"I never asked to be a part of this legacy," I shoot back, my frustration starting to bubble to the surface. "I want to make my own choices and carve out my path." You’d think that after 27 years of knowing me, my dad would realize that I am in control of my actions, and I do have a choice in my life, and just because I’m good at something doesn’t mean I enjoy it.

Breaking my train of thought he leans forward, his tone low and menacing. "You will do as I say, Zain. That's final. Now, I have a new assignment for you. A week-long mission in Oaksrner. You leave tomorrow."

Gritting my teeth, I swallow my anger and respond through clenched jaws, "Yes, Father."

---

As I exit the government building, I leave defeated, the blueprints were already stolen. So, it's safe to say I'm startled to come face to face with another figure in the shadows. Edith or Agent W.

She raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. "Fancy meeting you here, Callahan."

I return the smirk, feeling a surge of adrenaline at the unexpected encounter. "Likewise, Wood. Looks like we're both after the same thing."

We stand there for a moment, sizing each other up, the tension crackling between us. Two enemies, at the ready waiting for instruction.

K.M Strunk