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Ichabod always loved a good, high society party. The champagne, the glitz and glamour, the loose lips that were more than willing to let secrets spill out...
It was never out of character for him to be at one. His parents were very prominent members of British hierarchy so naturally their only son, being well educated and connected as he was, could be seen at them without too many suspicions being aroused.
Expensive suit, tailored to his frame. Shoes at their most luxurious shine. And of course the contacts he had been reserving for this very occasion. It felt good to shed the skin of being just "that nerdy documents escort" at ApocalyptiCorp, even if it was just for one night.
It made him feel a little bit like Cinderella.
He blinked a few times after getting the contacts in. God he hated wearing contacts but he always felt his best when he could go without the glasses.
"Hello there, handsome," he said to his reflection, twisting left then right to make sure he was presentable. "My name is Bond. James Bond…"
"You wish."
Ichabod felt his face go aflame as he heard the feminine voice in his ear. "A little warning would be nice next time, Miss Corinth."
"It took a second to get the sound to connect, sorry Mister Bond," she said. "How's the prescription?"
"Perfect."
"Testing visuals. I'm going to need you to go to a window and look at someone to see if the facial recognition works," Zoe said.
"We can do that while I'm on my way, Miss Corinth," Ichabod groused. "The party has already started and I don't want to get there too late."
Ichabod strapped on his watch--an heirloom from his father--and grabbed his car keys. He pursed his lips, put those down and grabbed a different set. After all, a jet setting playboy could hardly arrive at a lavish party in a Prius.
"Are you sure about that Crane?" Zoe asked. "Last time you barely went a block before yo--"
"I know what happened last time," Ichabod grumbled. He had barely gone a block in the shiny new lambo, lost control of it, and crashed into a building. "Fine…" He put those keys down and grabbed a third set. "I'm taking the Audi. Are you happy?"
"There's no shame in admitting you're just not cut out for hot rods," Zoe deadpanned. "Besides, you're classy not flashy."
"That was almost a compliment," Ichabod said, pocketing his wallet.
When he stepped out into the corridor, he could see small blips of information in his peripheral: distance to the lift, likelihood of danger, surveillance cameras. It was like it was being displayed on a screen that only he could see.
"Oh nice," he heard Zoe coo.
When he reached the lift, the doors slid open and a couple stepped out. Ichabod gave them a smile as the facial recognition framed their faces in green and flashed civilian. When the doors to the lift slid closed behind Ichabod hummed with approval. "Facial recognition seems to work," he said quietly.
"Audio is much clearer to," Zoe commented. "I can hear you perfect even though you have that annoying habit of mumbling everything."
"I mumble because I don't like when--" the doors opened on the ground floor "--people stare when I appear to be talking to myself."
Ichabod blinked at the family waiting to get into the lift. They stared right at him. He sighed and exited the lift, acutely aware that their eyes followed him as he exited the hotel. He made his way across the street to the parking garage and made his way to the Audi, which was kept on the level below the top of the garage.
There were a few people loitering about. The contacts flashed red around two individuals hunched over a third person which showed as yellow. "Zoe…" Ichabod said lightly.
"On it," she said. "Are you sure you want to get your ass kicked before you even get to the party?"
"I'm not going to get my ass kicked, I can fight," he insisted.
"Of course you can," Zoe said sweetly.
The contacts zoomed in on the individuals. The word armed flashed before his vision and highlighted that each had a knife in hand and one was concealing a gun. Threat Level: Medium. A yellow frame flashed around the third person Status: Distressed.
Ichabod hummed softly as he realized they just happened to be near the Audi. He made his way over. "Is there some sort of problem, sir?"
The two armed individuals stood straight and looked at him. "We're good," one of them replied.
"I wasn't asking you, I was asking the gentleman you're harassing," Ichabod commented.
"I don't see how it's any of your business," the other said. "You seem to be on your way to a nice party or dinner or something, so why don't you run on along?"
"Well, seeing as you're right next to my vehicle, that sort of makes it my business," Ichabod prodded.
"Does it," the second said. "Sound like you need to learn how we do things here in America…"
"Hey Crane can you not get yourself killed, please," Zoe asked softly. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to get agents to the U.S. these days?"
"I'm not going to get myself killed," Ichabod snapped. "I know how to fight a couple of idiots in a parking garage, armed or not!" The silence that followed that statement was uncomfortable, mostly because the assailants had no idea Ichabod was talking to Zoe through a microscopic earpiece.
"Couple of idiots, huh," the first one scoffed. "We'll see about that."
The first lad came at Ichabod. He easily blocked the young man when he attempted to stab him. Ichabod caught his arm, brought his elbow down on the man's arm. It gave a satisfactory crack and the young man wailed painfully as Ichabod pushed him to the side.
The second threw his knife down and charged at Ichabod. Ichabod swooped low and caught the man in the gut with his shoulder, then slammed him to the ground almost effortlessly. While climbing to his feet, Ichabod heard the click click of a gun being cocked near his ear.
"Why don't you--"
The lad didn't have a chance to get his threat out before Ichabod had disarmed him, broken his hand, and brought him to the ground as well. Ichabod turned the gun on them. "I fancy this is representative enough of how it's done where I'm from?"
The two men staggered to their feet and rushed off. Ichabod breathed a sigh of relief and turned toward the man they had been harassing. "Are you alright, sir?"
He walked over, slipping the gun into the inner pocket of his coat. The old man nodded. "Thanks, son. You didn't have to do that, you know."
Ichabod looked the man over. Green framed his face. STATUS: GOOD. IDENTITY: SGT JONATHAN JOHNSON, RETIRED ARMY VETERAN. "Can I take you somewhere safer? Home perhaps?"
The man shook his head. "Ain't got one," Mister Johnson replied. "I figured I'd camp out here and offer to shine up your tires when you came to get your car."
Ichabod smiled pleasantly. "Well, I'm on my way to a party at the moment. But I will gladly give you some spare change if you have need of it."
"I'd be grateful, son," Johnson said.
Ichabod opened the door to Audi and made a pretense of digging for change. When he stood back up, he pulled his wallet from his pocket and pulled out a few notes and gave them to the man. "This should at least get you a warm meal," Ichabod stated.
Johnson eyed the fresh ones on the outside of the fold of money Ichabod had given him and nodded. "You have a good night, son."
"Please, get somewhere safe and warm if you can, Sgt Johnson," Ichabod said.
The man's eyes widened as Ichabod slipped into the car. Only once the door was closed and Ichabod was baking out of the spot, did Johnson open the fold and find more than sufficient funds for not only a hotel stay for a few days but more than enough to feed him for those days. Or perhaps it was enough for him to return home to stay with his son or daughter until he could get back on his feet.
Ichabod wouldn't ever know what Johnson used the money for and in Ichabod's opinion it didn't matter. His family had more than enough money, it's not like they would miss it, and he could get more out of the bank come morning if need be.
While in route to the party, he ran it over in his head, over and over again, on what to say to various people. Of course Zoe groaned at each and every one of his anecdotes and made him promise not to try and tell jokes. “No offense,” she said. “But just try to get close to important people and let them talk. Don’t engage with them. Don’t even stand in their group. Just get close enough and the audio feed will do the rest.”
“But I want to be the suave and cunning spy I know I can be,” Ichabod pouted.
“I know you do, honey,” Zoe said sweetly. “But you are neither of those things, personally, so it’s not gonna happen.”
“You didn’t think I could fight either,” Ichabod pointed out.
“Oh yes, because getting into a fight with a couple of street hooligans is the same as fighting trained spy,” Zoe said with sarcasm.
“I had the same exact training as everyone else,” Ichabod huffed. “So tell me, why I shouldn’t be permitted to be treated as any other agent. I’ve been with MI6 for six years, Zoe. I’ve trained for this sort of thing.”
“Because your mom will crawl Director Abner’s ass if you get hurt,” Zoe said. “And, well, like I said suave and cunning are not adjectives which can be used to describe you. Honestly, you should still be an analyst--an actual analyst--because you just don’t have the personality for this. But, I’m having to do the best I can do until we can get some of our big guns in there. Just don’t screw this up and follow your orders.”
Ichabod sighed heavily. "Fine."
Upon arrival to the party, Ichabod turned his keys over to the valet. As he approached the door, he removed the card from his inner pocket and presented it to the doorman. The doorman looked at the card and nodded slightly before granting Ichabod entry.
He was pretty sure he had a very sour look on his face because almost everyone that looked his way while he meandered through the party cleared his path. "Anything of interest yet," he muttered.
"Nothing yet," Zoe responded. "Try going up the stairs… according to the blueprints there's a ballroom to the right that leads out to the atrium and pool."
As Ichabod topped the stairs, a figure became visible. A lovely figure clad in a form fitting red dress, with a skirt that flared out just below her full hips. The thin straps showed off elegant brown shoulders that the lighting lent to a warm golden glow on her skin. The woman's black hair hung in silken waves down her back.
"Holy shit," Zoe said in awe. "I think I'm gay."
The woman in front of them laughed and looked over her shoulder as she leaned against the man next to her. Ichabod felt his heart leap into his throat as he recognized the woman's face. Recognition suddenly filled her eyes and she beamed at him.
"Ichabod?" Abbie chimed.
"Abbie?"
"Abbie?" Zoe asked. "Is this the Abbie?"
"Mmhmm," Ichabod replied as he approached Abbie. "What on Earth are you doing here?"
"Wow, she is gorgeous," Zoe said. "Way out of your league."
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Abbie said, sounding almost distressed.
Ichabod tucked his hands into his pockets. “My family has a standing invitation to many society parties that take place. This is one of them.” His eyes drifted over her slowly, drinking in the way the plunging neckline hugged her breasts. He was fairly certain most of the women at this party would not have made the same dress look so… sexy. “You look… fantastic.”
Abbie smiled impishly and fluttered her lashes. “You clean up pretty good yourself.” She reached up and straightened his tie and lapels.
“Damn, Ichabod, your vitals are off the wall,” Zoe laughed. “I mean, not that I can blame you… she’s just… urgh.”
A figure swaggered up behind Abbie, putting a hand on her hip. Ichabod arched a brow as the man gave Abbie a kiss on the cheek. “Who’s your friend, darling?”
Abbie smiled brightly. “Bill, this is Ichabod. The guy that took your place when you retired,” she said sweetly.
“Fuck,” came Zoe’s voice like Ichabod’s own inner voice. “She has a boyfriend.”
Ichabod shook Bill’s hand. “Somehow I had envisioned you being older,” Ichabod commented. And less handsome. Honestly, Abbie constantly described Bill as being fight roughened and old. This man look at the top edges of his prime. Definitely not old enough to be retired.
Bill smiled wryly and made a sound that might be mistaken for a laugh. “I get that a lot,” Bill said. Ichabod was surprised to discover Bill was a fellow Brit. “Truth is, I had a much more financially appealing job offer from President Moloch. I couldn’t pass it up and had more than enough years with ApocalyptiCorp to get retirement.”
President Moloch, Ichabod couldn’t help but think. The sole reason he was on this mission in the first place. There had been some suspicious transactions taking place between ApocalyptiCorp and US Department of Defense, all signed and approved by the President himself. Which would be considered rather odd if Moloch hadn’t relieved the defense secretary of their job six months ago after a scandal with Russian intelligence.
“Be careful,” Ichabod said with a half grin. “I’ve heard Moloch only hires people he thinks they have something to hide.”
Bill snorted lightly. “Ah yes, because the president would hire a person he suspects of illegal dealings and give them access to top secret government information just to expose them in the name of draining the swamp. Only an idiot would do that.”
Abbie gave Bill a withering look. “You’re talking about the same man that openly acts like a spoiled toddler in public and claims its fake news? I’d believe it.”
“Careful, Abbie,” Bill said softly. “If tonight goes well, you’ll be working for him too.”
It was then Ichabod felt his heart stop and he blinked at Abbie. “I beg your pardon? You’re thinking of leaving ApocalyptiCorp?”
Abbie looked up at Bill. “Can I have a minute with Ichabod?”
Bill nodded and stepped away. Abbie slipped her hand into the crook of Ichabod’s arm and nodded toward some stairs. “We can go up on the roof to talk. It’s quieter up there.”
They walked up the stairs in silence until they reached the landing of the next floor. “I didn’t know you and Bill were an item,” Ichabod said quietly.
Abbie shook her head. “Not for long,” she muttered, then looked up at Ichabod to clarify. “We just started casually dating two weeks ago. He said he always wanted to approach me but felt it was improper to date a coworker, especially when there was a 16 year age difference; he didn’t want people at work to talk.”
They climbed another flight of stairs that led to the roof access. Together they went to the edge to look out over the other rooftops. Abbie turned and perched herself against the ledge. “The President is looking for security staff. Bill thinks he might be able to put in a good word for me and get me a job. To be honest, it’s good pay but I’m not exactly sure I want to work for someone like Moloch, regardless of the pay.”
“Understandable,” Ichabod nodded. “Plus, there would be the whole entire co-worker thing to contend with…”
Abbie smiled up at him. “He claims it wouldn’t count because we would have been dating before I got the job.” She lightly nudged his ankle with her foot. “Would you miss me if I did leave?”
“Dreadfully,” Ichabod replied and he saw Abbie’s breath hitch. She looked away, tucking her hair behind her ear. When she rubbed her arms Ichabod quickly removed his coat and draped it around her shoulders. “Where are my manners…”
Abbie pulled the coat around her body a little more. “Your manners are perfect,” she said. “If it’s any consolation… I’d miss you too.” Abbie glanced back towards the access. “Like I said. I might not. Depends on if I feel like ApocalyptiCorp would be worth it or not.” She slipped his coat off and kissed his cheek as she handed it back to him. “I better get back inside before Bill thinks we’ve run off together.”
Ichabod watched her disappear into the access as he pulled his coat back on. Once the door closed behind her, Ichabod turned to face the other rooftops again. He sighed heavily and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m an idiot,” he groaned.
“Not gonna argue with that,” Zoe chimed in.
“Did I ask for your input?” Ichabod groused.
“No but I gave it anyway, didn’t I?”
Shaking his head, Ichabod chuckled. “I’m fooling myself aren’t I? I’m just overthinking Abbie being nice to me, aren’t I? She’d miss me because we’re friends and we enjoy working together. That’s all, right?”
“Who are you talking to?”
Ichabod turned abruptly to face Bill. “Myself,” Ichabod sighed. “Obviously.” He nodded toward the access. “You’ve just missed Abbie returning to the party to go look for you.”
Bill cocked his head slightly, his hands in his pockets. “Abbie says you were once MI6. Dangerous information to tell someone.”
“I was just a paper pusher that looked over documents for suspicious information. Just any other ho-hum job,” Ichabod stated. “An analyst. Nothing I have to keep secret.”
“I think you’re full of shit,” Bill commented. You know what else I think?”
Ichabod gawked for words for a moment, unsure of how to respond. His heart started racing and his fight or flight instinct was starting to try and compel his feet towards the access. “What… what else… do you think?”
“I think MI6 sent you here to bring me in,” Bill commented. “Or am I wrong about that Ichabod? Or…” he pulled a gun from inside his coat and aimed it. “Do you prefer to be called Nightingale?”
“Oh shit,” Zoe said. “Ichabod… get off of the roof. We’re getting a ping on this guy and not a good one. The files are encrypted, hence why you’re not getting anything. I’m trying to break through.”
“I… what?” Ichabod asked, slowly raising his hands. “I told you… I was just…”
A shot rang out and Ichabod felt his entire body fall back as the bullet hit his chest. He hit the ground with a winded cough. Slowly, Ichabod sat up and looked down at his chest where the bullet was still lodged in the fibers of his suit. He carefully plucked it out and looked at what remained with curiosity. “What in the…” was all he managed to get out before he was snatched up from the rooftop.
“You didn’t think we’d really let you go out on a mission without protection did you, Crane,” Zoe asked. “Crane…? Oh shit…”
Bill’s first punch landed in Ichabod’s gut, winding him even more. He held fast to ichabod’s tie and punched him in the face repeatedly before letting him drop to the rooftop. “Tell me what you know,” Bill demanded.
“I don’t know anything,” Ichabod insisted. “I was just an analyst, I swear…”
With a bitter laugh, Bill dragged Ichabod to his feet and leaned him over the roof ledge. “I’m going to ask this one last time, Nightingale, tell me what they know. If you don’t tell me, I’m just going to throw you off of the roof and be done with you.”
“Who the hell is Nightingale?” Ichabod asked frantically, his hand sliding into his coat to retrieve the gun he had taken from the hooligans earlier. However, when he reached into the inner pocket, he found nothing but his glasses case. He squinted, trying to focus on Bill’s face. Ichabod became aware that he could no longer hear Zoe’s voice. Considering he couldn’t see for shit, he came to the realization that he had lost the contacts. “I’m telling you, I was a bloody analyst. That’s it! I don’t know you from Adam.”
Bill stared at him for a moment then sighed. “I’m honestly disappointed,” Bill said. “I’ve heard so much about Nightingale, I thought you would be more of a cha--”
Bill was suddenly snatched away. Ichabod gasped for breath as he fell to his hands and knees on the rooftop. He squinted to tray and see what was going on, trying to make sense of the obvious fight that was taking place.
“Somehow I think I always knew it was you,” Bill said with a bitter laugh. Before Ichabod could focus on what was taking place, a shot rang out and Bill staggered backwards before he tumbled over the ledge of the roof.
Ichabod squinted to see the black clad figure standing stoically close to him. “Who are you?” He reached into his pocket, pulled out his glasses case and clamoured to get them put on. However, once he had them on, the figure was already gone. Slowly, Ichabod climbed to his feet and looked around.
It took a moment, but he heard Zoe’s voice in his ear again. “What the hell happened? Are you alright?”
Ichabod shook his head. “I don’t know… Who is Nightingale?”
“I have no idea… Why?”
“He thought I was called Nightingale,” Ichabod managed as he looked over the edge of the building. There was nothing on the ground below. “Someone came and fought him… I think they might have been Nightingale. Do we have an agent called that?”
Ichabod turned abruptly when he heard the click of heels against the rooftop. Abbie stopped and stared at him, wide-eyed. “Where’s Bill? Someone said they saw him come up here. I thought…”
Ichabod looked over the edge of the building again and shook his head. “I don’t know where he went.” Abbie came to his side and peered over the edge. After a moment she frowned and looked up at him. “Well, I guess this means I’m staying at ApocalyptiCorp for the time being.” She reached up and touched an open wound on Ichabod’s brow. “Let’s go get that cleaned up. Do you live nearby?”
“What about your car?” Ichabod asked. He knelt down as he caught the glimmer of one of his contacts. The other was a few feet away. He collected them both and put them in his glasses case until he could get back to the hotel.
“Bill picked me up. And if he’s disappeared that leaves me without a ride,” Abbie replied.
“What about your home?”
“I live on the other side of Sleepy Hollow,” Abbie said.
Ichabod nodded. “My living arrangements would prove to be closer… and I could give you a ride home once cleaned up.”
“I’m staying the night with you because you might have a concussion,” Abbie said sternly. “You can take me home in the morning.”
Despite the pain, Ichabod couldn’t help but smile. As Abbie escorted him towards the access, Ichabod couldn’t help but ask, “Has Bill ever mentioned someone called, Nightingale?”
Abbie shook her head. “No, why?”
“No reason,” Ichabod sighed.