Chapter Text
“Agent Phoenix crouched in the shadows of the deserted alleyway, the cold night air wrapping around them like a shroud. The city's lights flickered in the distance, casting eerie patterns on the wet pavement. Their eyes, sharp and alert, scanned the area, every sense on high alert. They couldn't speak, but their actions spoke volumes—a silent symphony of precision and intent. “
[... ...]
“Inside a dimly lit room filled with monitors and communication devices, their most trusted Handler sat in his armchair. His voice was Phoenix's lifeline, a constant presence guiding them through the perilous world they navigated together. Tonight was no different.”
[... ...]
"Agent, can you hear me?" Reginald raised his voice slightly.
[Yes, unfortunately. Where did those monologues come from?] Phoenix responded in sign language to the camera, feeling hurt on their tongue for how hard they had to bite it to avoid laughing.
"Ah, they are some of Juniper's finest film lines. I arranged them a little myself, of course." Reginald spoke proudly, sipping his tea. "Anyway, our intel revealed information about this factory. A group of Zoraxis operators have been entering and exiting this abandoned place quite frequently. They may be hiding something here. Get in, and figure out what they are planning."
Phoenix tapped twice on the tiny microphone embedded in their collar next to the camera as a sign of "copy that" and started moving toward their destination.
"Remember, Agent, the mission is to investigate this old abandoned Cane-Cola factory. Zoraxis might be producing something secretly here—thanks to you, they can't operate in the shadows anymore after the Juniper incident." Reginald puffed out his chest slightly.
[And somehow you still love his films.]
"You can appreciate art while hating the artist, Agent." Reginald cleared his throat. "Anyway, our job here is to look for any clue about what Zoraxis is plotting: infiltrate, investigate, improvise, maybe find some evidence, and get out. Nice and simple." Phoenix tapped twice on the microphone again while walking quickly and quietly through the alley, wondering when their mission had ever been "nice and simple" for once.
The abandoned Cane-Cola factory stood like a somber testament to the passing of an era, its rusted gates creaking slightly in the wind as if whispering of bygone days. The exterior, once a vibrant red adorned with the iconic white script logo, was now faded and peeling, its paint chips scattered across the cracked and overgrown pavement leading up to the entrance. Weeds had claimed much of the perimeter, twining their way up the walls and across the roof, giving the once-proud structure an eerie, almost post-apocalyptic appearance.
"There are no guards around the factory or at the entrance, but according to the intel, this factory has a garrison of guards underground somehow, so they must have something important there. Find a way down while remaining unseen."
Agent Phoenix gave a thumbs-up to the camera, cautiously approaching the factory's entrance and scanning every inch of the surroundings. They had been briefed extensively on Zoraxis' operations, and they knew from experience that the lack of overt security often meant a more sophisticated, covert system was in place.
Phoenix moved to the side of the factory, where a rusted ladder led to a small maintenance hatch. The hatch was nearly camouflaged against the factory wall, and Phoenix remained in the shadows, using telekinesis to open it with minimal noise. They paused for a moment, listening intently for any signs of movement before climbing down into the darkness. They blinked several times to adjust to the darkness, then spotted the dusty underground passage.
The air was thick with the scent of mildew and old machinery. Phoenix crept forward, their footsteps barely audible over the faint hum of machinery that seemed to pulse from the depths of the factory.
[So much for an abandoned factory.]
"Be careful, Agent, there's still a long way to go."
The underground layout was labyrinthine, with numerous corridors and intersections. Phoenix relied heavily on their instinct and Reginald's intel, navigating carefully to avoid any traps or unwelcome encounters.
"Now, turn left and go straight. You should see a door there." Reginald’s voice dropped to an unnecessary whisper.
As they ventured deeper, the hum grew louder, and the air began to carry a faint metallic scent. Phoenix paused, pressing their ear against a cold steel door, hearing distant murmurs of voices and the clink of metal on the other side. They could also detect the faint echo of footsteps, suggesting that guards were patrolling.
[I'm heading in.] Taking a deep breath to steady themselves, Phoenix slowly turned the door's handle.
The door opened with a soft click, revealing a vast underground chamber filled with dimly lit workstations and machinery. A group of Zoraxis operators, clad in dark uniforms and wearing masks, were engrossed in their work, unaware of Phoenix's presence. Phoenix moved silently, using the shadows as cover as they approached a nearby workstation. They began searching for any documents or digital devices that might contain information on Zoraxis' plans.
Everything in the room seemed dusty except an old wooden desk. It looked aged but had been cleaned recently, as if wiped down. There were three-layer drawers on the side.
"Is there something that draws your attention?"
[Maybe.]
They examined the desk closely and noticed that one drawer had a slightly uneven edge, suggesting it had been recently altered. Intrigued, they pried the drawer open, revealing a cleverly crafted false bottom. A triumphant smile spread across their face as they found a floppy disk with a Zoraxis logo beneath it.
Just as they grabbed the suspicious floppy disk from the drawer, a shadow moved behind them. Phoenix spun around, just in time to see a guard level a gun. "Freeze!" the guard shouted, but Phoenix was already in motion. They rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the bullet. The guard's colleagues quickly turned their attention to the commotion, and the chamber erupted into chaos. Bullets flew through the air, and people yelled warnings as Phoenix dashed through the workstation's door, searching for the next cover.
"Agent! You've been spotted! Quick, hide!" the Handler's voice shouted as bullets whistled and boomed overhead.
[You think?] Phoenix crouched under a desk, stashing the disk while signing to their Handler.
"You need to find a way out of there, quickly!"
[Working on it.]
Phoenix lowered their body and quietly observed the other Zoraxis operators' movements. They waited for the gunfire to pause, then dashed across the room, dodging bullets while searching for the next hiding spot. They knew they couldn't afford to engage in a gunfight; somehow, after all these years, they still weren't allowed to bring a weapon to an infiltration mission. Besides, their mission was to gather information and escape—otherwise, they could just blow up the entire factory.
As they approached the far side of the chamber, they spotted a narrow ventilation shaft leading upward. Without hesitation, Phoenix leaped into the shaft, climbing swiftly despite the limited space and jagged edges cutting into their gloves. Above, the factory floor was relatively quiet, as the guards had been drawn to the underground chamber. Phoenix burst from the ventilation shaft, landing silently on the floor. They quickly made their way to the factory's exit, checking if the floppy disk they had grabbed during the fray was still there.
As they approached the rusted gates, a voice crackled through a nearby intercom: "Intruder alert! Secure the perimeter!" Phoenix knew they had to act fast. They sprinted toward the gate, using telekinesis to find and jimmy the lock mechanism just in time. Phoenix slipped through the gap as the first guards appeared on the horizon.
Breathing heavily, Phoenix ran through the alleyways with guards hot on their heels. They could hear the guards shouting and the sound of footsteps pounding on the pavement. "Hurry, Agent! You're almost there, and you can't afford to slow down!" Reginald shouted into the microphone, standing up without realizing it. Phoenix didn't reply and didn't slow down.
At the end of the alley, a dark green van was parked in the shadow of the walls. Phoenix ran to it, using telekinesis to open the driver's side door, leaped into the driver's seat, floored the accelerator, and closed the door as they sped away from the factory, bullets pinging off the rear.
"Well done, Agent," Reginald said, and Phoenix could hear a hint of pride in his voice as he sank back into his armchair with relief. "You managed to get out of that one with flying colors."
Phoenix gave a thumbs-up to the camera with a backward glance, then leaned back in their seat as the adrenaline slowly subsided. Reginald also sat back in his armchair, picked up his teacup for the first time in an hour, and asked, "Do you still have the information disk?" Phoenix nodded, reached into their trench coat, and pulled out the floppy disk. They waved it at the camera, glancing at it hopefully, wondering if it contained invaluable evidence worth the effort.
"Great! Well done again, Agent! I'll wait for you at the nearest control point with sweets and tea, of course."
Phoenix offered a small smile, putting the floppy disk back in their coat and giving another thumbs-up with the hand not on the steering wheel. The Handler saw this and continued, "We'll have to analyze the data on that disk as soon as we get back to HQ," he said. "But for now, let's just focus on getting there safely."
Phoenix nodded, their attention returning to the road.
A few days later, Phoenix knocked on the briefing room door and opened it after hearing a clear, cheerful voice shout, "Come in!"
Reginald sat at the far end of the meeting table, with a stack of file folders and a teapot set in front of him. He smiled, pointed to the chair beside Phoenix, and gestured for them to sit. Phoenix closed the door behind them, pulled out the chair with one hand, and used telekinesis with the other to place a teacup in front of themselves. They cleared their throat and said, "Hello, sir. Any news?"
"Of course, Agent—I don't summon my best agent willy-nilly!" Reginald replied. "I'm here to inform you that the data from the facility you raided last week has been decrypted. It contains blueprints for a mechanism designed to produce, well, cola cans."
Phoenix raised an eyebrow.
"You heard me right: cans meant for storing cola. But notice I didn’t say 'aluminium cans' because they’re not made from aluminium. The R&D team is analyzing the alloy—apparently, it’s a composite of rare metals. The formula on the disk is encrypted, but rest assured, it’s definitely not for storing Cane-Cola."
"...What do you need me to do?" Phoenix leaned forward slightly.
"Nothing for now. We’re waiting on R&D’s analysis, which might take time due to the rare materials involved."
"Would going back to that factory and stealing some samples help?" Phoenix asked.
Reginald raised his voice slightly. "That's what I was thinking! But the cleanup crew said there's absolutely nothing left at that factory. They must have evacuated everything after you raided them, and they also... burned the building to the ground." He rested his chin on his hand and let out a long sigh. "We’ll have to hope this isn’t part of Zor’s latest scheme."
"Then why call me in today, Handler?"
"Ah, I almost forgot." Reginald's face lit up. He put down his teacup and heaved a large black suitcase onto the table. "Here, this is for you!"
"Oh? Champagne and cupcakes for the debrief?" Phoenix used telekinesis to hover the case over and open it, but their smile quickly faded. Inside lay a neatly folded gray suit, a brown trench coat, documents clipped to the lid, and a one-time cipher pad.
"Emm... these things look disturbingly familiar..."
"Standard cadet supplies! The things we give to every cadet!" Reginald declared cheerfully.
"O... kay? So I already have one of these in my apartment, or is this mine, and you just somehow scoped it out?" Phoenix arched a brow.
Reginald failed to suppress a smirk. "Well, open the ID card and find out for yourself!" He picked up his tea again, sipping with exaggerated pride.
Phoenix said nothing, opened the folder, and plucked a blank cadet ID card from the air as it fell. The card bore only empty fields and a magnetic strip. "Not mine. Is this a prop for the next mission?"
"Yes and no." Reginald smiled mysteriously—or at least he thought he did.
"Care to elaborate, sir?" Phoenix bit back a laugh but still leak a smile out.
"THIS, is the latest stroke of genius from Shawn in HR. At last week’s meeting, we discussed how to hide your identity again. Given that you're number one on Zor's 'wanted dead' list..." Reginald stood, grabbing a champagne bottle and two glasses, and walked toward Phoenix. "Shawn suggested we simply hide you within the Agency by making you a new cadet!"
"And that's a good idea... because?" Phoenix pulled out a chair for him.
"Because that way, you can stay safe at Agency headquarters without hiding in a van or some far-flung control point." Reginald gestured emphatically as he sat down, as if swatting flies.
"I wasn't hiding—that control point was just close to the Black Sea."
"I know, and I hope that's the last time you have to face a life-or-death situation alone." Reginald looked slightly traumatized by the memory, staring straight into Phoenix's eyes.
Phoenix returned a faint smile. "I'd prefer that too."
"Regardless!" Reginald's face brightened. "Anyway, we're giving you a fake identity as a new cadet. That way, you can stay here between missions and be ready to go at a moment's notice!"
"Alright, sir. Where do I sign?"
"Here, on the cadet ID card." Reginald handed Phoenix a pen from his pocket and began sipping his champagne.
Phoenix started writing under "AGENT CODE NAME": P-H-O—
"Wait!" Reginald choked slightly, nearly spilling the champagne. Phoenix stopped writing and looked up. "I forgot to tell you—you'll need a new identity here!"
"...So I'm hiding from Zoraxis AND the Agency?"
"Exactly, Agent! Can't be too cautious. There are rumors there might be a rat inside the Agency." Reginald sighed. "Sadly, I'll need to get you a new ID card... More paperwork for me... Thank goodness we ditched number-based codenames; otherwise, I'd have to check which numbers are left..." He mumbled, ruffling his hair.
Phoenix smiled and continued writing on the ID card: PHONY.
"Oh! Good thinking, Agent—that will save me a LOT of paperwork. But you... don't mind our people calling you that?"
Phoenix chuckled. "Nope."
"Well then, enjoy your time at the training camp, and welcome to the Agency, Agent Phony!" Reginald picked up the two champagne glasses, held one out, and raised his own in a toast.
"Thank you, sir. I'm glad to be working with you and the Agency." Phoenix clinked their glass against his, unaware they would endure recruit training hell while juggling missions.