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The room was cold and dank. The stale smell of mould hung like a fog in the air. She could hear the faint hum of a light bulb buzzing above her. as she slowly regained consciousness, pulling herself out of her drug-induced stupor should be gone to know the pressure on her body. a piece of rough fabric wrapped tightly around her eyes, obscuring the room. Her wrists were bound securely to the hard metal chair she found herself on, digging into tender flesh. Immediately she knew what had happened, they found her. They had caught her.
Ella was a perfectly ordinary young woman of twenty-six years. She had two sisters, a dog, and grew up in the country. Currently, she worked as a librarian in the public library down the street from her cramped apartment with leaky taps. There was only one facet of her life that set Ella apart from her peers. She was a spy.
Yes, all the information about her life was a carefully constructed lie. a story she had memorised. She knew nothing of her birth family, aside from a picture of a woman, she assumed was her mother, in a locket she had all her life. She hated dogs with a passion, ever since an incident in her youth. and she had never even been to the countryside, at least not in the country she was currently in. Hell, her name wasn’t even Ella. She was known only as Number 12, the identifier given by her employers, The Agency.
The only family she had ever known.
a former street urchin, she had been trained in espionage from à very young age. a master of death and deceit. She could blend in perfectly into almost any setting, be it a high class cocktail party in Manhattan or a Norwegian fish factory in Tromsø.
Indeed that was how she found herself with her present assignment, undercover as a faceless librarian keeping an eye on an absolute fool of a boy who was rich enough to buy her ten times over. The Asset was the sole heir to a global tech empire who had eyes on practically everyone on earth. He was also possibly the most boring young man she had ever met. certainly she would never willingly have interacted with him. Unfortunately, the rat face to youth was being targeted by The Hand.
The Hand was a ruthless organisation, with branches winding all over the world. They had already attempted to kidnap him twice in the past, in an effort to gain control of his company and resources to spread their message of anarchy to the masses. and thus Number 12 was assigned to watch him fail several university classes.
Her memories were beginning to come back as she pieced together how she arrived in the dungeon. Her day at the library had come to an end, uneventful as always, and she set off tailing The Asset until the hand off with his other handler. She turned down a dark side street. The walls around her littered with graffiti. Street lights flickered above her. She had eyes on The asset as she took note of footsteps behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Before she could turn to investigate her suspicions, the assailant got the drop on her. She fell to the ground. Grit digging into her palms, as she tried fruitlessly to break her fall. Her head throbbed with dull pain. Next thing she could feel was the sharp pain of a needle being plunged into her neck. Her vision began to swim, eyes losing focus. She could feel her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest, as she struggled for breath. The inky blackness overtook her as she drifted off into oblivion.
Suddenly, her blindfold was ripped off roughly. Her eyes stung as they adjusted to the bright lights of the room. as her vision cleared, she noticed a woman standing with her back to her. The tall woman turned slowly. Number 12 was struck with disbelief as their eyes met. Those same green eyes she saw every time she looked in the mirror. It was the woman in her locket. Her mother.
It was unmistakable. She was older now certainly, face lined with age and experience, but she still boasted the same angular face and high cheekbones. Definitely her. The colour drained from Number 12’s face. She could feel the cold of the chair seeping into her bones. Sharp metal stabbing into her. She had thought about this moment for as long as she could remember. Finally meeting the woman in the photo. Finally being reunited with her mother. Her daydream came to an abrupt halt when the woman spoke.
“Good, you’re awake. I was beginning to worry Phobos had hit you a bit too hard. He always has been rather heavy handed.” She turned away from Number 12, examining a table of dials on the other side of the room.
“Where am I? Who are you, what do you want from me?”, demanded Number 12, only just managing to disguise the panic in her voice.
“You have something of mine. I want it back”, the woman stated plainly, “I have gone to great lengths to get you here.”
“Where is The asset ? What have you done with him?” Number 12 had never lost an asset, and if she made it out of here alive she would never hear the end of it from the Boss.
“Oh my dear no, we never cared about that fool. He was merely a means to an end. After two kidnapping attempts and some well crafted whispers, I knew The Agency would send their best chameleon. I knew that would be you.”
Number 12 sensed she was holding out. That she knew something she didn’t.
“You still haven’t explained who you are.” Number 12 was aching to find out more about why this woman had hunted her. Why she had left her.
“You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you’ve figured it out already. My name is Hera, and you, Eris, are my daughter.”
The words rang out in her head, confirming what she already knew. A moment later something else registered: “Hebe?”
“Yes. You didn’t really think I would leave you nameless did you?” She had a touch of kindness to her, but no sooner had her demeanor softened, she was stony faced again.
“But that’s beside the point. I need your necklace. I’ve been searching for it for over 15 years so you better get talking.” The threatening tone in her voice gave Number 12 the feeling that, mother or not, she would do whatever it took to get her hands on it.
“I don’t know what you want with my necklace but there’s no way in hell you’re getting your hands on it. You may be my mother, but you left me. I have no loyalty to you.” Number 12 saw something change in Hera’s face. an incredible cruelty in her eyes.
“Shame. I thought you might say something like that.” She turned a dial on the table. With that, her body started to spasm as electricity passed through the hard metal chair and into her body. Immediately, the blackness overtook her once again.