Thorne's walk of shame out of MiB headquarters was slow and long and lonely, since the investigation room was nowhere near the official exit. Each room he passed reminded him of the missions he'd been on and even more so, the mission he should be on right now with his team.
The official comm he'd received from MiB Security told him—in an exhaustingly detailed message—that he was free to go and Rikan or Torin would be in touch when it was time for his review. It had been hard not to throw his portscreen against the wall.
He would not lay low. Not when Sybil Mira was still at large, not when she had Cress, and certainly not when he didn't know if Cress was a victim or a villain.
The thought of her as either made his stomach knot up again, his hands fisting involuntarily at his sides.
Kai had been right not to believe him. How could he have possibly missed that extra room or her security surveillance? Why hadn't he pressed her for more information when she said she'd wanted to help him on missions? What kind of help would she have offered, if he had asked? Would he have stumbled upon her secrets? Gotten suspicious of her insatiable need to be around him?
Spades and aces and stars above, he'd been made a fool.
"Tonight, apparently."
Thorne's inner monologue ceased at the sound of hushed voices around the corner. He lifted his chin and increased the proud swagger of his stride. Walk of shame or not, he was Agent T and that fact alone demanded the respect of all the lesser agents in this agency.
"I heard Solis squealed like a pig under Erland's scrutiny."
"Can you imagine?"
Thorne slowed to a quiet stop as someone giggled in response. If Erland had gotten Solis to talk, then that meant they had caught Solis. And if Solis had talked…
He moved silently to the wall by the corner, listening.
"I'm thinking of applying to the mission tonight."
"Don't be daft, Morgan, you're not even a full-time field agent."
"The debrief made it clear that a multitude of agents were needed tonight as back-up. As long as I don't suck face with a Lunar I think I'll be okay."
Thorne rounded the corner with a glare to confront the now-snickering pair of agents. Their faces both burned with embarrassment as soon as they recognized him.
"A-Agent T," stuttered the man.
Thorne crossed his arms. "Something you'd like to say to me about who I suck face with?"
"No," said the woman quickly. She grabbed the man's arm and tugged him back. "Morgan and I were just leaving."
They scurried down the hallway from where Thorne had come.
"If they wanted to use you for a mission, they would have let you know by now!" he called after them. "You don't just apply!"
As if those two twerps would ever be chosen by his team members to join their mission. Scoffing, he continued along his way, knowing that if they would allow him to participate in the mission tonight then they wouldn't need back-up. The four of them were unstoppable.
At least, they usually were. Sybil had torn them apart before.
Back-up was never a bad idea, he concluded, but he was confident that he still had a valid point. Not that it mattered. He would have no influence on how tonight's mission turned out, whatever it was they were up to.
He'd been betrayed by his girl and his team.
The attractive agent who acted as a mechanic in the New Beijing Market didn't bother to hide her disdain for him as he exited headquarters.
So, word had spread this far then already. How could it not, when Sybil had broadcast his exploits with a Lunar over every netscreen in the agency?
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and shuffled through the busy street vendors. Maybe he would stop and get some pork buns to go before he went home and figured out his next move.
"Agent T!" someone hissed in front of him.
His eyes snapped up to a semi-familiar face. It was that intern from this morning. What had been her name again?
Thorne took her by the arm and pulled her behind a booth that wasn't overly crowded. "Don't address me that way in public," he snapped.
She bit her lip and looked down, heat creeping to her cheeks. It reminded him of Cress and made him angrier. If this intern dared say anything to him like those two snoops he'd found in the hallway…
"I'm sorry, Agent…um, Mister T, I didn't mean to…" She wrung her hands, dejection washing over her in a big wave. He could see no mockery in her expression.
Thorne sighed, trying to let some of his anger dissipate. "You can call me Thorne."
She looked up. "I can?"
"What was yours again?"
"Elanora."
"How can I help you, Elanora?"
Her whole face brightened. "I was hoping to check how your mission is going. It seemed so stressful this morning before they made me leave."
"You mean…you don't know what's going on?" The idea of it caught him off guard. Had she really missed his netscreeen debut and his suspension?
"No," she said, glum again. "I don't know why I thought you guys would have time to give me interviews when you have top-secret missions to take care of. I went out to breakfast after they kicked me out. I didn't feel like sitting outside in the hallway while everyone else was in on the excitement."
Thorne studied her carefully. She was dressed in plainclothes, unlike this morning, and though he remembered her rumpled outfit, he hadn't given her more than a second thought when he'd met her. Elanora was certainly a little rough around the edges. Not exactly a stunner, but by no means ugly, he wondered if she wouldn't look quite cute with her raven hair let down. This girl desperately needed a more delicate touch.
He softened his features. "I know how you feel."
She kicked at a pebble. "I doubt it. You're"—she dropped her voice to a barely audible whisper—"Agent T. A legend. You're part of the team I'm studying at MiB Academy. You're always in on the action."
He smirked, unable to resist the way she was clearly star struck in his presence. "Perhaps I misjudged you this morning. It sounds like you could use a little action, isn't that right, Elanora?"
She became flustered immediately—just as he'd hoped and expected. He could do whatever he wanted with this puddle of admiration now.
Draping an arm around her shoulders, he guided her back into the crowded walkway of the market. "Being an agent in training can be quite stressful. I recognize the same spark in you that I had when I was in your shoes. We've actually just finished up with today's mission so I've got some time to kill. Why don't we grab some dinner and take it back to my apartment?"
"Really? You wouldn't mind if we did your interview there?"
He laughed. "Oh, I'll make sure you get a fabulous interview, darling."
"I love your apartment."
Thorne leaned casually against the door frame, observing Elanora enter his place with a little too much enthusiasm. She studied everything as if she were at a museum, glancing back at him every now and then as though wondering if he would take back his invitation for her to be there.
"It's a penthouse," he said, winking. "Access to the roof is key when you're an agent."
Elanora beamed at him, eating up everything he was saying, which made him want to laugh again. She returned to studying the apartment, and Thorne wondered how any agent—in-training or not—could find it useful to wear such a tight pencil skirt. Then again, he'd seen agents chase down Lunars in high-heeled shoes—a feat that always left him in awe.
Elanora paused in front of his entertainment system, where the netscreen displayed a picture of him giving a brunette in a bikini a kiss on the cheek. "Does your girlfriend live here too?"
It was just random girl that one of the MiB tech agents had merged into one of his images, but the idea of having a girlfriend almost made him laugh bitterly. He swallowed any feelings that weren't smooth and casual. "We don't talk about our private lives in this line of work. This is just my agent pad. I've got a whole different identity that I assume when I'm not being Agent T." He held up the bag of pork buns. "Why don't we go through your interview questions while we eat?"
Thorne ran her name through the MiB database scanner on his portscreen while they ate and chatted, apologizing profusely for the rude interruptions, but, "An agent's work is never over." He was pleased to find that his access to the database hadn't yet been restricted. He was even more pleased to find that Elanora Lubbock of Australia had no worrisome record of any kind at her nineteen years of age.
She excelled in her classes, often going above and beyond what was necessary. A teacher's pet, from what he could gather. Someone who liked to please her superiors.
She was perfect.
Perhaps this horrible day had finally presented him with a bit of good luck.
"Not to interrupt, Elanora," he said, his fingers pausing on his portscreen, "but I've got a surprise for you."
She waited, as if unsure how to process this information.
"I comm'ed the guys and explained how you were given the short end of the stick today. Since we had the evening off, we came up with a practical way for you to get a feel of what it's like to be part of an elite team."
He could've sworn her eyes lit up like the stars, so he decided there was no reason to feel guilty about what he was about to do. Elanora would love this and get to feel useful, and later she could write some report about it when he knew what in the name of spades was going on with Sybil and Cress.
"What did you have in mind?" she asked, her eyes hopeful but still looking like she was waiting for Thorne to tell her it was all a joke.
"They've set up a series of obstacles for you at MiB headquarters. Similar to things we'd go through on the field but without the imminent danger. Since I'm the captain of our team, I'll accompany you and oversee how you handle everything. Then, when it's over, I'll rate your performance and offer comparisons to what we might have done instead. How it would have been different with a team, that sort of thing. Sound good?"
Her eyes bugged. "You did that for me?"
"I told you, I see that same spark in you. Our conversation tonight has showed me you have serious potential to be a stellar field agent. We think you'd benefit more from a hands-on experience. Don't you want to tell your friends someday that you got to train with Agent T?"
"Wow," she breathed. "I just need a moment to wrap my mind around this. So it's not a real mission but like…a simulation?"
"Exactly like a simulation. But it'll feel like a real one. We might even give you the challenge of doing some otherwise unethical tasks on behalf of MiB, to see how you react under pressure. In this field you have to make hard choices sometimes. Are you up for it?"
"Yes, absolutely," she said, clapping her hands excitedly. Then she dropped them into her lap like she knew she'd made the grave mistake of showing too much enthusiasm. "Sorry."
He chuckled, but partially because he was surprised it was so easy. "It's cool. You have another hour or two to calm your emotions before we need to get going. Then, once I've briefed you on your mission, you'll have to rein it all in."
As he spoke, he set up a countdown on his port to tick down the time it would take before Sybil would kill Cress. He had already wasted nine of the twenty-four hours. But he still had the whole night to work through. Elanora would come in handy for at least one third of that time, depending on how fast she could accomplish his tasks.
"I didn't know that MiB teams had captains. Have you always been the captain?"
"Of course," he lied smoothly. "Agent J is too grumpy for public relations, Agent W scares people, and Agent K is too neurotic." Then, forcing out a playful pout, he asked, "Wait a minute. Wouldn't you expect me to be the captain?"
"Of course," she said, blushing again. "I think you'd be the perfect captain, Agent T. I mean…Thorne." Her eyes flickered over to the netscreen, still displaying his fake girlfriend or sister or whatever she was supposed to be. She let out a girly sigh, but he got up from the table quickly, slightly worn out from all the adoration.
"Hang tight," he told her. "I need to make a private comm."
Thorne swiped his wrist to let himself into his bedroom, which he'd had another tech agent program to open for him alone. After he'd locked the door behind him again, he sank onto his bed and let out a long sigh.
Women.
He'd always known they'd be the death of him.
Why he'd had enough of a mental breakdown to fall for a Lunar woman of all the women there were to choose from was beyond him.
Ugh.
He let his back fall onto the covers and wished he could just get some sleep, but the bed reminded him of Cress too.
Even if he could let that go, there was an eager young intern right outside his door who he needed to keep happily ignorant with whatever methods necessary. Anyone important would be heading out on whatever big mission they had planned for Sybil Mira, leaving MiB with less security then usual. He would still need Elanora's help to break into MiB.
No, sleep would have to be postponed yet again.
Thorne got off the bed reluctantly, pushed it aside with an aching grunt, and swiped his wrist a few more times to reveal the trapdoor hidden under a digitized floorboard. When he opened it, he relaxed back on his knees, his eyes trailing over the stockpile of weapons in front of him—the ones that he'd reported lost in action from his many missions and brought home in secret instead.
He grabbed a stack of Glamour Blockers and stuffed them into the pockets of his pants for good measure. One could never have enough of those, and MiB Security had taken any extra GB's he'd had on him at the time.
Thorne strapped on an old-fashioned gun holster, then carefully selected two MiB-issued guns: one to stun, one to kill. The latter was only supposed to be used in dire situations, since Lunars who overstepped their rights were supposed to be captured and questioned, not killed. Agents didn't even carry them on their person unless they were on a high-profile mission, like when they'd chased Aimery.
Suspended agents were not supposed to be packing either type. But, suspended or not, there was no way he was going anywhere without the ability to kill. He stashed both guns in the holster and reached to close the trapdoor again before pausing, his eyes snagging on a spare pair of shades.
Alright, Crescent Darnel, he thought, sliding the MiB sunglasses into the breast pocket of his collared shirt, if that's even your name. Time to see what the aces you've been up to, babe.