Five o'clock in the morning the next day couldn't have come any sooner. Grabbing my duffel bag that holds a few weeks of clothing, I easily walk out of my room and pass by a passed out Gerald on the couch, snoring away.
I hated to do it to Gerald but he would have caught me if I didn't slip him the sleeping syrup. That's what was inside the cake box...well that and six mini cakes that is. Gerald always wakes up at five in the morning to go for a run and knowing Horace he must have done his research on him hence the syrup bottle and the cakes.
Not bothering to leave a note for him, I head out of the apartment. Sliding into the backseat of the back sedan parked in one of the lots of the car park, I give the driver a nod to leave as I settle into my seat. The car ride is usually about twenty minutes to the nearest helipad but since it's five in the morning the drive takes less than five minutes.
The security guard of the building with the helipad opens the front door for me and he doesn't even question who I am as he leads me to an awaiting elevator. Pressing for the rooftop, he bids me a good flight just as the elevator's heavy doors close.
It isn't long before a loud ping announces my arrival on the rooftop as if my ringing ears aren't a clear enough indication that I'm way above ground level. Walking up to the helicopter that will take me to WSCPB Headquarters, I shiver slightly from the fiercely blowing cold morning air.
Dressed in a pair of black jeans and a tight black shirt with my hair tied back in a tight ponytail, I look like the agent I am through as I climb into the aircraft with my heavy black combat boots the fierce winds that rock the aircraft slightly are making me reconsider my outfit choice, the young pilot at the front gives me a greeting nod before getting ready to take to the skies.
Strapping myself into my seat, I place the headset over my ears, allowing the conversation between the control tower and the pilot fill my ear canals, soothing my frayed nerves as the doubt of whether or not the young man knows how to fly diminishes.
"It's nice to have you back Agent MO," the pilot speaks gratefully into the headset, his voice is laced with both exhaustion and excitement as he flies us away from the mainland. "It's an honour to fly you back to HQ."
Leaning back into my seat tiredly, I suppress a yawn as I look out the window, trying to seem outwardly indifferent to his words but internally I'm wondering how many people will say these words to me when I arrive back on the ship.
"Thank you," I murmur softly as an afterthought, deciding against acting indifferent. "I'm glad to be back."
It's not exactly a lie but it's not exactly the truth either. It may seem like I was guilt-tripped into going back but I guess I could have said 'no' either way so I guess some part of me wanted to go back to being an agent hence why I said 'yes'.
The rest of the flight is silent except for the pilot's occasional updates on how much longer it would take for us to read our destination. By the time we reach, its early noon and the sun is high in the sky beating down on me, my black outfit absorbing the heat.
Duffel bag in hand, I jump off of the aircraft, having exchanged my glasses for my prescription sunglasses after the fourth hour of the seven-hour flight. Noting the welcome party just outside the helipad, I grit my teeth as I make my way towards the crowd of six people who are Horace, Oliver and three other men whom I have no idea who they are.
"Agent MO," Horace smiles friendly, opening his arms to hug me. "Welcome home."
Forcing a tight smile onto my face at his words I allow myself to be hugged by him, he is after all the closest thing I've had to a parent in the last fifteen years, after a few seconds I shift away from him to stand in front of Oliver and the three men, assessing the new additions.
Man One is tall and kind of squishy in a handsome kind of way, he has dirty brown hair looks like he used a pair of garden shears to cut it as chops of long and short pieces line his head like a messily mowed grass field.
Man Two who stands next to Man number one is all muscle, broad shoulders with a defined jawline and crystal blue eyes defined by a masculine diamond shaped face. His hair that is coloured green at the tips is tied back into a sleek low ponytail at the back of his head.
Man Three is the odd one out between the three of them, he looks like a mouse compared to the other two with his forest green eyes that dart about in all directions except in front of him and his oblong face gives him the aura of someone who's kind and easy going and although he seems well fed there's clearly not an ounce of muscle in him from what I can see.
"Ethan, Percy and Norman," Oliver introduces quickly pointing at Man One, Two and Three respectively. "Second in command, Weapons handler and tech support. Any questions, MO?"
"Sure," I measure out, turning my gaze from the three men to glare at Oliver. "Are they any good at their job?"
"The cream of the crop," Oliver replies, puffing out his chest a little in pride.
"Then, I'm sure they'll know how to introduce themselves to me, Agent QC," I counter, walking into the interior of the ship before Oliver can do a comeback. He was just asking for it. When I lead a team, I never introduce my teammates' names, I let them do it themselves. A team does not only consist of a leader.
Once in the cool air-conditioned interior of the ship, I replace my sunglasses for my regular glasses, my feet thump slightly on the carpeted floor as I make my way towards the centre of the ship where I know the meeting rooms are.