Ever heard the phrase 'Love at first sight?' What comes to your mind? Two people meeting in a bar and they just sorta click? Or someone you lock eyes with on a bus stop and you just knew it deep down she's the one for you so you man up, stride up to her and everything goes well from there? Well not for me sir, nope. The woman I fell for tried to put a bullet in my head, but to be fair I tried to do the same to her. That's what happens to everyone on opposite sides of a war. Even worse when I was on the wrong side. By now you probably woulda' guessed which side I'm on and correcto-mundo, I was a part of the White Masks. Scared? Nah don't be. You're probably right now be like 'omg you're one of those terrorists!' Or 'You killed all those people! You murderer!' I've even heard 'Someone should line you up against a wall and shoot you!' Yadda, yadda, yadda.
Whatever.
You're entitled to your opinions. I'm fine with you've got against me. I've had people come up to me and tell me I might as well join ISIS, considering the atrocities we committed were somewhat similar. I'm like, what? Seriously, ISIS and the White Masks were two extremely different organizations with different agendas! Plus we carried out way more complex missions The only similarity we shared was our usage of terror on the general population. Besides, I wouldn't be caught dead wearing a rag on my head no offense to my fellow muslim readers, yall are cool. Respect to you guys.
Yes, the people I worked with did try to topple multiple governments across the globe and nearly succeeded. Yes, we murdered a lot of innocent folks but let me just say that I didn't like it, hell, all of us were against it. But it was a sacrifice we were willing to do to give these goddamn beauracrats a wake up call, to stop screwing with our lives, our tax money, our future. The rich just got richer and the poor got poorer, nobody gave a shit to the lower middle class, we were the undesirables, the unwanted. Justice? No, that word doesn't exist here and if we wanted something we had to claw our way up to the top. We were ordinary people, everyday joes like you trying to make a living in a brutal and indecent world. At the time, we weren't thinking straight, we were angry we wanted justice against the system so badly we used the language, the only language actually, that the world could understand.
Terror.
Do I still believe in the cause the White Masks propagated? Yes. Peace and prosperity. Simple yet frickin' powerful words. But I've long past let go of the sword in favour of the pen as they say. I've got my own commitment and respoinsibilities to fulfil so sad to say my fight's over. Maybe if any of you readers with a fire your belly and the intellect to match are willing to take up the mantle and fight for us lower middle class folks, I applaud you. But for the record, what justification did we have for murdering innocent people? It was a form of liberation. The people are sheep, were sheep, slaved to follow the whims of the powerful and wealthy. Death was an act of release for them. Note this was in the past, I've long moved on from the notion of violent confrontations nor do I support it.
Right, back to where we were. My first meeting with my other half happened in a bar. This was before we learned of each other's profession.
2017.
It was Friday. Just got off from my day job and I decided let loose a little before my 'night shift' starts. By day I'm a faceless white collar closing books and sending reports to my general manager. By night, I was a white masked freedom fighter packing toxins into crates to shipped off into various parts of the globe.
Huh, come to think of it, my double life sounds poetic. White collar, white mask.
Anyways, I enter the place, the aircon greeting me with that rush of stinging cold and I remember a local band singing that Maroon 5 song. The one that goes 'say-say-say-hey-hey-hey-now baby'. Local talent needs support man, those guys were good. You couldn't tell the difference between their lead and Adam Levine. I sat on one of their empty couches, a glass of tequila and lime in one hand, my phone in the other. Scrolling, through my whatsapp, I spot this green haired babe from the corner of my eye enter the fray. Shoulder length hair, a cap of all things with neon blue headphones hanging off her neck. Dark leggings and a denim jacket, yeah I remember what she wore. Cute? Hell yeah she was. On a whole, she's a solid '8'. She began chatting it up with the bartender, they seemed like good friends. My eyes were fixed on her, like a hawk eyeing its prey and all I could think of was to walk up and 'score'.
Now, see when a man gets infatuated he can't think straight but damn if it doesn't make you self conscious. You think if your hair's okay, do you reek of B.O and alcohol, is your face oily and pretty much your entire self worth is being scrutinised. I watched from behind the scene as guys literally line up to have a go at her. When she rejects one, another would come up to her. I frowned, some of those guys looked like greek gods compared to me. Man, I'm way in over my head but lemme tell you something. I'm busting my ass with the higher ups in my day job for the next paycheck, I come back late at night sore and aching from all that milsim training so a little rejection can't be as bad as the double life I lead, besides it will be a good experience, you're 25, single and a virgin. 'You're not getting any younger' as I told myself.
My expectations of first contact was that I would smoothly, and I say smoothly slide to the chair next to her buy her a drink and things hit it off straight away. But fuck me, what really happened was some meathead stole the seat I was headed for and practically left me standing so close to both of them I could hear their conversation. Also, it made me feel like a third wheel so pardon me if I felt like swallowing cyanide in that moment. I decided to sit further from the two and nearer to the band. 15 minutes of chilling and she stands up and brushes the Big Show lookalike off, great she's probably sick of this place and leaving. But she joins a table with a group of people instead. Colleagues? Maybe.
"Can I get you something?" Bartender's standing in front of me, wiping an already polished looking glass. What the heck, sure.
"Bacardi, on the rocks." He takes the cash and makes the stuff. As I take small sips, my head glances towards the green haired mystery girl.
"Shoulda' taken your chance man, you blew it," he hums while wiping another glass.
"Yeah guess so." I frown. Eavesdropping prick.
"Something on your mind? Wanna share?" I shake my head. What advice can he give? I already know my strengths and weaknesses.
"Hey, us bartenders make good listeners and give sound advice. Comes with the trade, besides, its on the house." Okay that got me chuckling. Alright, fine.
"Just, thinking of missed opportunities."
"By that you mean Ela?"
Ela? I thought it was a pet name. Adorable too "Ela? The-" I pause, should I say girl? Chick? Babe?
"The one with the green hair, yeap," the bartender sets aside the glass and picks up another to polish. The guy's freaking nuts, he probably has OCD about cleanliness or wiping tables and glasses. I wonder what happened to him, its been almost six years since I last saw him.
"How do you know all this?" Seriously.
"Easy, we talked. You have no idea how much a woman would appreciate in finding a man whose not interested in getting into their pants at first sight. She's real friendly and easy going once you get past her cold demeanor. Hell, I thought she was a punk when I first saw her here."
"She come here often? What does she work as?"
"I dunno, didn't ask. In a week I'd see her about two times? Sometimes once a week, sometimes once a month. She must be a real busy person."
Okay, this guy's a jackpot of information.
"Sounds like it. I can relate,"
"Then you should go talk to her." I chuckle. Seriously? You think I haven't been trying to do that? Jeez.
"Well I would if only the Gods of Mount Olympus would stop bugging the pretty handmaiden," he stopped cleaning the glass and let out a laugh that sounded like throaty gurgle. "And why would you be telling me all this? Aren't you trying to score with her too?"
He shakes his head, ditches the already polished glass and grabs another from the rack. His left hand shows me a silver ring on his finger.
"Married, bro. Got a kid on the way too,"
Oh.
"Oh, wow congratz. I..I didn't know. But, your wife? She okay with you doing all this?"
"Interacting with people? Of course. I love my job and she understands it, I'm a social creature. Bartending duties aside I get to meet with all sorts of people from all walks of life. It's not always about the passion or the paycheck for me but the people you meet."
"I see, well-"
"Speaking of missed opportunities, here's a new one for you," he nods to the person standing behind me.
Ela.
I nearly went into cardiac arrest right then and there. I didn't hear her approaching and the music's already stopped, the band took a break.
We locked eyes for a second before I turned away.
"Harold," she smirks, her Russian accent very prominent as she rolls the 'R' in Harold the bartender's name. She plants a fist on her porcelain colored chin s she takes the seat beside me.
"Back for more drinks Ela?" Harold sniffs and set aside the glass he'd been working on.
"Vutka, iced. See you've made a new friend," she gave me a sideways glance and curl her lips in a friendly smile. Okay, she acknowledges my existance. I raise a hand and return the smile. But inside oh man I was boiling and not in anger. Her accent's sexay as hell.
Still is.
"Oh you know, same old, same old. Right here you go."
When I saw her taking out her wallet, I beat her to the punch by sliding out a 10 dollar bill to Harold. He gave me a wink and keeps the cash.
She turns at me with an annoyed look.
"You didn't have to do that, I can pay for my own things." She snaps, startling me. Oh wow, and here I thought she'd be appreciative of the gesture. Turns out otherwise and I wasted ten bucks. But then again, she must be sick of all those guys trying to buy her a drink when all she probably wanted was to chill.
"Whoa," I try to diffuse the situation. "I'm just trying to be friendly. I mean, Harold here told me-"
"You two were talking about me behind my back!?" Oh boy. Things are gonna get ugly.
Harold raises his arms in mock surrender. "Hey don't blame me, he asked," she glares right back at me.
"Who are you?" Wow, she does have an icy demeanor.
"Um, Greg. And to clear the air, Harold here was just telling me about the mystery woman aka you. I mean I've never seen you here before, nothing bad or anything I was just curious." I babble.
She sighs cursing in a foreign language. I take the opportunity to add on.
"Sounds Russian, you from uh-"
"Poland," she downs half the glass in a gulp.
"Oh, no wonder. Sounded real Slavic so I just assumed," Her eyes perk up at my response her body language rekaxes. Was that a good sign? I think so.
"Not bad, you're familliar with proper racial terms,"
"Ah, big fan of history. You?"
"No. Cannot say I am. But I apologize for being rude,"
"Oh no no no, its alright. You must be real sick of guys coming up to you for your number, or something similar,"
She nods and wave a finger, "Yes, very true. Everywhere I go men bother me. Its annoying,"
"Well I can't blame them. You're absolutely gorgeous, what do you do when you're not chilling by the bar?"
She grins, unfazed by the compliment I gave. "I'm an art student."
No surprise there.
"Well that explains the jacket and the cap. But why art?"
She leans forward, probably more comfortable with me. That gave me a slight confidence boost. I can do this, I can do this!
"Art lets me express myself. My sister thinks its stupid though," she spat bitterly the last part.
"I don't. I think its great you're pursuing something you're passionate for but how will it help you financially?"
She waves a hand off, "I've got it figured it out. Don't worry. You know, Greg, we got off on a bad start, I'm Elzbieta. You can call me Ela."
Elzbieta. Like Elizabeth.
"Greg. Nice to finally chat with you. Can I call you Elz?"
"Sure." My phone decided to spoil whatever it was we had going on by buzzing in my pocket.
"Ah shit, one moment Elz," she didn't say much but decided to sip her iced Vodka. I frowned upon looking at the caller ID. It was Miles, my commander and he never calls unless shit hits the fan.
"Greg here,"
"Its Miles. Listen, one of the head masks has called for an emergency meeting at the warehouse. I need you and the rest of the team here by 2030 hours."
I look at my watch, oh shit its almost 8pm. "Alright, I'll be there. Any idea what this'll be about?"
There was a pause at the end of the line. "One of our hideouts in New York was raided an hour ago."
"Huh? W-what!?"
"You heard me, last report sent from Trojan Wing stated a spec ops team infiltrated the place and shot up the guards, haven't heard anything since. We're assuming all hands lost and the hideout compromised."
"Oh fuck,"
"Yeah. Listen, get over here in 30 minutes. We've got a long night ahead of us. Oh and watch your back, make sure you're not being followed."
"Alright, seeya."
I stare at my phone in disbelief. What the hell, our operations were damn near untraceable! Somebody must have fucked things up. I look at Ela with an uneasy look.
"Something wrong, Greg?"
"Er yeah, something cropped up at home. I gotta go, its been nice talking to you Elz, I wish we could talk more. Underneath that ice queen attitude, you're a real gem."
Ela smirks and slides a piece of paper towards me. On it were a bunch of numbers scribbled. Could it be? Oh my god did I just score?
"Here's my number. Maybe we can meet in the day for coffee instead," a smile lit up my face. Oh my god. Yes!
"Yeah, coffee sounds good. Okay gotta go," I grabbed my bag and sling it. "See ya!"
She waves and goes back to her drink. On my way out, I catch her friends eyeing me with suspicion.
Hmm...pfft who cares!
Holy shit, I nabbed the big one man! Feeling's like...over the moon or some shit. If only I knew how much trouble this little minx was gonna get me into.