Mask of Desire

Mission I

“We're here, Miss Simone,” Maleek announced, pulling up at the seediest street in New York City. His gravelly voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

Firete Street was popular as a haven for illicit activities of all sorts; junkies, hookers, sale of everything illegal under the law from exotic pets to firearms. It was no surprise that constant gang fights broke out there, everyday people dropped dead like flies so much that even the authorities designated to the area avoided it as much as possible.

Since it operated at night, it was relatively quiet during the day–everyone was on the lookout for a mole, or a fight. The majority of the population was asleep but wary.

Another reason the government turned a blind eye to this street was because as dangerous as it was, it was a hotspot for information and a gray area, high-priority trades for undercover cops and agents like Simone came there all the time.

A moaning in the corner caught her attention and Simone winced at the smell of vomit. She walked quickly past a man lying on the street who had passed out from a heroin overdose. He was having his pockets turned out by three scrawny hungry-looking kids.

Simone fiddled with her overcoat for a packet of chocolates beside them and she watched momentarily forget the sick man as they scrambled for it, she was filled with a rising sense of pity even when she knew she shouldn't.

This was her routine for the past 2 years since joining the agency–every three days to the end of the month, she was here unfailingly. Most of the residents here knew Simone as "the overcoat lady"

She always wore dark glasses, an overcoat, a big black hat, and a pair of heels that clacked against the cobblestone.

Everyone knew she always went to a specific drug dealer's apartment in the area–Biggie's.

Simone was always out in less than 10 minutes, her heels making the 'clack clack' sound as she disappeared into her car. Now, she was almost an urban legend in these parts given how long she'd visited this place.

Biggie's apartment was at the end of the street, more of an abandoned warehouse for drugs. The walls were covered completely in graffiti and for the life of her, Simone did not understand why he chose to stay in a crumbling sorry excuse of a house.

Just because he made dirty money didn't mean he should live somewhere equal to the nature of his income.

Simone spat in disgust at the flies and smell coming from his apartment. Five minutes later, she promised herself. This environment was nauseating enough.

Hard rock music played 24/7 from his apartment. She yanked open the door and coughed and spat into her handkerchief. Even in the daytime, it was dim and the air was thick with the smell of weed and cocaine.

A rail-thin woman in stained lingerie was snorting lines and looked up at her for a moment half dazed and sneezed and continued.

There was no need to knock as he was expecting her.

She pulled back the beaded curtains and waited.

Biggie was reclining on a couch, smoking, headphones in as a hooker sucked his c**k.

“Well, hello there,” Biggie said after finally noticing Simone standing there he stood up, tapped her on the head, and pulled up his pants.

“Dizzy is a good girl, now give me a kiss,” he drawled, tapping her head.

Simone cleared her throat and looked away. It was not her job to take care of this.

“Follow me,” Biggie said, parting the bead curtains.

Although he didn't look it, Biggie was 45 years old and contrary to his name, he was an average-built man, a deep scar across his face that begged for a story with sunken cheeks and haunted gray eyes that seemed to escape reality from time to time, he was a trusted drug dealer and made more than most tax-free in a year, but all his money went to fuel his addictions.

Simone was happy to fuel them as long as she got what she wanted and on time, she was instructed to pay whatever price it was.

“You know, getting this across almost cost my homeboy his life, security around the port has gotten tighter, I need security pay.”

“Oh really now?” Simone dipped her voice low and husky.

“Fifty percent more.”

“Hard ass.”

He chuckled and lit another blunt and tossed her a package.

“A month's worth, easy on the dosage too.”

Simone tore open the package, and bright vials of purple liquid sloshed stared back at her. It was complete.

“Till next month then?”

“I'm good for the money, also I won't be coming here next month?”

“Shame, I was hoping I would bag you one of these days. Even though I don't know what you look like underneath there, I can tell you're the sexy type. I need a lay beside these cheap skanks. Know what I mean?”

Simone grinned and left without a word. Professionalism was first. If he was some random on the street, she'd have knocked his teeth down his throat.

There were many things Simone was intolerant of, a dirty man proposing s*x to her was one of them. As were many other women, she supposed.

She adjusted her sunglasses when she got out, stuffing the package in her bag as the 'clack' 'clack' of her heels faded away.

She got into the car waiting for her at the end of the street and slammed the door.

The driver handed her a sanitizer and she wiped her hands.

“Finished?” he asked.

She sighed heavily, breathing in the cold air conditioning.

“Yes. Please make the transfer, with fifty percent extra, and get me out of here ASAP.

After all the time of coming here, you'd think I'd be used to this sort of thing.”

The driver said nothing. After 2 years of driving her here, he'd found that the less he knew, the better for him.

“I have a meeting with the boss, please take me to HQ.”

“Yes ma'am.”

“I guess there are some things you never get used to,” Simone muttered as the car pulled up and away from Firete Street and onto the highway and to the secret location of the black ops HQ.

An hour later, she was sitting in the lobby, waiting with the parcel for her call-in.

Simone glanced over at the nervous recruit sitting beside her. His eyes darted around anxiously as he waited. She couldn't help but feel a pang of amusement at his obvious discomfort.

"First day?" she asked casually, taking off her glasses.

The recruit nodded, swallowing hard in obvious discomfort. "Yeah, uh, just got here this morning. I'm supposed to attend the training camp so I'm getting briefed."

Simone grinned, leaning back in her chair. "Well, welcome to the club. But let me tell you, the worst is yet to come."

His brown eyes widened in alarm, his hands trembling slightly. "W-what do you mean?"

Simone chuckled, enjoying the opportunity to unsettle the newcomer. "Oh, just wait until you see what they have planned for us. It's not for the faint of heart, that's for sure."

The recruit swallowed nervously, his gaze flicking towards the door as if contemplating making a run for it. But before he could act, a stern-faced officer emerged from the hallway, beckoning him forward with a curt gesture.

Simone watched with amusement as the recruit scrambled to his feet, his face pale with apprehension. As he disappeared into the depths of the facility, she couldn't help but smile to herself. After all, a little bit of fear was just part of the job. Everyone was brave till they faced the matron, they made sure of it.

Hell, even this lobby was designed to do things to your psychology. Simone could never forget her first time here.

When she passed her basic training, she was taken here to be briefed for her first mission. She was greeted by a scene straight out of a dystopian nightmare. The headquarters was impossibly huge and covered in anti-terrorism shields. It was surrounded by towering concrete walls topped with razor wire, casting a foreboding shadow over the landscape. Armed guards patrolled the perimeter with watchful eyes, their presence a constant reminder of the strict security measures in place.

Inside, the atmosphere was no less oppressive. The corridors were dimly lit, the walls lined with surveillance cameras that seemed to follow Someone's every move. The air was heavy with the scent of stale sweat and gunpowder, a tangible reminder of the constant state of readiness that permeated the facility.

The huge doors to the executive wing buzzed open softly, and a stern-looking woman appeared.

“The boss will see you now, Agent Simone.”

Simone nodded and stepped through the imposing doors of the black ops facility,

Simone's footsteps echoed loudly against the cold tile floor as she made her way toward her boss's office. Her demeanor was rigid and meticulous, her every movement calculated and precise. She had learned early on that in this world, one wrong step could mean the difference between success and failure, life and death.

As she approached the door to her boss's office, Simone felt a familiar knot of apprehension tighten in her stomach. Despite her years of service, she still couldn't shake the feeling of unease that accompanied every meeting with her enigmatic superior.

"Come in," a voice called from inside the office, interrupting Simone's thoughts.

With a deep breath, Simone pushed open the door and stepped inside. The office was sparse and utilitarian, also devoid of any personal touches or decorations. Behind the desk sat her boss, a red-haired woman whose real name nobody knew but Simone trusted her more than anyone in the world. Her sharp, black eyes always seemed to see straight through everyone.

"Simone," her boss greeted her with a nod, her tone clipped and businesslike. "I have a new assignment for you. This is your last delivery. The new guy will take over.”

“Here's the parcel, he said there was going to be”

“Price increases. I know that.”

She handed the package silently to the boss who nodded. Whatever the vials were for, it was none of her business.

“Now, back to business.” The boss clasped her hands, and the mood shifted.

She could tell by the change in her boss's voice that it was serious.

“I am very sorry to spring this on you but it seems you are the only one compatible with him.”

“Compatible?”

Simone squeezed her hands together.

“This time, it is going to be a joint task operation.”

“With the usual? I'm surprised and honored that a rookie like me will be–”

“Make no mistake about it. This is not Something to be taken lightly. We're working with them.

Them? Don't tell me…. Simone’s heart sank.

“We're in a bit of a time crunch, so we're going to be pairing with PsyOps. I understand how you feel but he's in the special forces and a weapons expert.”

“So am I!” She slammed the table fuming.

“Unfortunately, this has all been decided upon and agreed upon by both of us an hour ago.”

Simone's heart sank. Everyone knew PsyOps was the Agency whose existence was debated even by them and with the worst reputation. Because when it came to the truly dark and awful, they were in charge. They were ruthless brutes who operated almost independently of the government and sponsors. You had to be a psychopath and superhuman to be an agent there and the one person with the worst reputation was…

“And the person that is going to be working with you is none other than The ghost.”

Simone's heart rate quickened.

“You can't reject it. You won't meet with him, he will meet with you. Understand? You're going undercover and I'll forward the details of the mission. Don't lose your head.”

Simone’s anger built up every second as she walked out of the building. Sure, they were a morally gray organization but they had some morals. Special forces were cutthroat and there was no line they couldn't cross. Simone trusted her boss implicitly. But special forces? Him? She'd met him briefly once and he was impossible to be around.

They were going on a mission together? “f**k me,” Simone breathed.