6 : Axeyl Jett Parker
1179 Words
Within my years in the Agency, I’ve heard every kind of rumor about Agent 005.
The man’s practically a myth. The only agent to rocket from a low-tier rank to his current position in record time. Some people call him “reckless genius,” others just call him “reckless.” I’ve seen him around HQ a couple of times, but always in passing — he’s like smoke, hard to pin down, already gone before you can memorize his face.
I know he’s a wizard with hacking, the go-to guy for artillery upgrades, and June’s most trusted trainer for new recruits. Recently, June put him in charge of the research department — the one that churns out tactical plans for our more dangerous missions.
Which is why I tilt my head now, wondering what in the world could’ve landed him in the role of… delivery boy.
“Something happened in the office,” Agent 005 explains in his clipped way. “Agent 003’s working to fix it, so in the meantime… I was sent to give you this.”
“You couldn’t have sent it by air?” I ask. “Email exists, you know.” I mean, not that I’m complaining, but seriously.
He rubs the back of his head like a kid caught skipping class. “It’s complicated. Anyway—pleasure meeting you, Elka. I’d love to stay and chat, but I should get going.”
Then he does this little wave — cute, awkward, utterly un-agent-like — and heads out.
[Christian’s POV]
Christian pretends to polish the counter, cloth in hand, but his ears are tuned entirely to the table where Elka sits with Blake. He can’t catch much from here, but the way Blake leans in, the way Elka tilts her head — it’s all Agency business.
Elka Hudson. He’s heard that name before. More than once.
When Blake finally makes his way to the counter, Christian hands him a takeout bag without even asking for payment. “Here,” he says flatly. “Now scram.”
“That’s no way to treat a customer,” Blake teases.
Christian imagines throwing the drink in his face but settles for deadpan sarcasm. “Thank you for ordering, kind sir. Please exit before I have to use my foot.”
Blake grins, salutes, and strolls out. Christian’s jaw tightens. That alien almost blew his cover.
Movement catches his eye. Blue eyes. Her blue eyes.
She’s looking right at him. He raises a hand in a casual wave before his brain has a chance to veto it. She doesn’t react, but he knows she saw. Turning away quickly, he lets his expression drop back into something unreadable.
He slips into the kitchen, switching with a coworker who doesn’t ask questions. His earpiece crackles before he’s halfway out of his apron.
“Agent 002,” a voice hisses.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m on it,” he mutters.
He blocks the tiny changing-room camera with a scrap of paper, shrugs into his leather jacket, and zips it up. His partner complains in his ear about losing visual.
“Try focusing on the mission instead of me,” Christian says, already pocketing his keys.
Out the back door, his pulse stays steady, but his thoughts are already shifting gears.
If Elka’s here, things are about to get complicated.
[ELKA’S POV]
My earpiece crackles to life, a screech cutting through the soft hum of the café.
A familiar voice floods my ear.
"What do you think you're doing?”
I roll my eyes, hissing under my breath. “Working.”
"Working? Agent 001’s on the move and you’re still enjoying your drink. You don’t even like bubble tea.”
I glance around the small café. The suspicion forming in my gut sharpens when I spot the surveillance camera angled exactly toward my seat.
Figures.
But wait—he said Agent 001’s on the move? I glance at Christian. Still there, still manning the counter.
“What are you talking about? He’s right here.”
Christian, in the flesh—uniform crisp, hair slightly tousled in that annoyingly perfect way. He takes an order, smiles, and gestures the customer to a seat like some modern-day barbarian who accidentally auditioned for a coffee commercial.
I slot the USB Agent 005 gave me into my laptop. Tyson keeps talking, muttering to himself as if he’s forgotten I’m listening. Happens a lot.
Something about Agent 005 messing up.
Whatever that means.
Another voice joins the line, groggy and annoyed.
"What."
"Giyoon! You picked up finally. Please explain why Agent 004 got the wron—" A prolonged beep cuts him off.
"Can’t believe he hung up on me.”
Tap. Tap.
"Hello? Agent 004, you still there?”
Still typing, I sigh. “I wish I wasn’t.”
"I’ve got something important to tell you. That stuff about Agent 001? Wrong file. Makes sense now—Agent 001 isn’t Christian. Agent 001’s actual—"
“Axeyl Jett Parker.”
"Bingo. Could’ve told you myself, but I had to confirm with June. Turns out… Blake happened.”
I zoom in on my laptop feed. Sure enough—him.
"Uh… hello? Agent 004?”
Silence.
"Elka?”
It’s not my old school bully. It’s my best friend.
“Ty…” I can feel the start of a migraine. This mission just went from annoying to impossible. “What am I gonna do?”
Tyson’s laugh doesn’t help. I can already picture myself getting caught.
No. Not happening. I’m Agent 004—I earned this position.
The chair screeches as I push it back, ignoring the curious stares from a few tables over.
Bubble tea? Straight to the trash. Time to move.
If Christian isn’t Agent 001, I have no reason to stay here.
Twenty minutes later, I’m standing in front of a hotel that screams money—fifty floors easy, rooftop pool glittering even from the street.
He should be here.
No longer disguised as Hailey, I’m dangerously exposed. If Axeyl sees me, I’m done. I pull my cap lower, ponytail tucked behind my shoulder.
Tyson already fed me the building’s blueprint. Agent 001 should be in the waiting lounge.
But when I step inside…
“He’s not here,” I mutter.
"Bathroom break,” Tyson says like it’s no big deal.
The elevator dings. Out steps Sharin De Jaìme—of course. Sparkly Gucci bag swinging like she’s auditioning for a commercial.
Right on schedule. Which means Agent 001 should be close.
“Jun!” she calls, and the whole scene goes slow-motion—her heels clicking dramatically, her hair bouncing like a shampoo ad.
And then I see him.
Not Christian.
Axeyl.
[AGENT DOSSIER — AXEYL JETT PARKER]
Codename: Agent 001. Son of retired Korean International Agency legends. Began training at ten. Took down Korea’s largest gang by fourteen.
Carries his parents’ legacy not for status, but for the lives it saves. Keeps a low profile when off-duty… often by keeping an eye on me.
Elka Hudson. His best friend.
And now—my mission.
- Writer
