Perfect Dark: Chain Reaction
A/n: This isn't a sequel to the game- it's another story, using the same characters. This is my first PD story, so if I get something totally wrong, let me know in your reviews.
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"Good morning, Carrington Institute, hope you're having a lovely day." Joanna smiled cheerfully, waiting for her transmission to come through. A man's voice finally replied, sounding serious and exasperated.
"Good morning, Agent Dark. How you can be cheerful when you're in as much trouble as you are is beyond me."
"Trouble is my job. I'll be reporting personally at 8. Any problems?"
"7, Agent Dark. Mr. Carrington would like a word with you himself." The transmission went dead. Joanna stifled a giggle, and strapped a Falcon to her belt. She stood up, flicking her bangs out of her eyes, and trotted out of her apartment door, past her car. She hopped on to her newest toy; a hoverbike stolen from Area 51. She sped across the city, hardly glancing at anything around her, and parked her bike in a small garage outside of Carrington Institute, a massive, intimidating building. Letting out a sigh, she glanced at her watch. 7:15. Close enough, she thought, and pushed open the glass doors. The sight that met her eyes was enough to make any normal woman stop dead in her tracks. Daniel Carrington, the owner of Carrington Institute was surrounded by executives, all looking important, and all looking very irritated. Joanna even spotted some reporters and photographers standing dumbfounded at the rear of the crowd. She smirked.
"Cute."
Carrington glared at her. "May I have a word with you in private, Agent Dark?" he said laboriously. She ignored him, grinning at the executives in the front who were staring at her in shock.
"What? Do I have something on my face?" she teased.
"Joanna!" Carrington practically screamed at her, turning the color of a spawning salmon. She raised an eyebrow, and walked over to him, silently, and painfully slowly. He jerked his head towards another set of glass double doors, leading down a hallway. They pushed through them, and Carrington didn't breathe until he and Joanna were safely alone behind the doors.
"Oh you can be so difficult sometimes." he muttered, making her smile again.
"It's in my blood." she assured him. He glared again.
"I don't suppose you'd ever care to hear the situation at hand before screwing it up though, hm? Before letting your blood work its magic?" He said bitterly.
"Mr. Carrington, you know I always try to let the blood of others work magic before I go worrying about my own, and-"
"Joanna!"
"Alright, sir, look, why don't you stop scolding, and let me know what exactly the situation at hand is?" Try as she might, Joanna couldn't seem to stop grinning wickedly.
Carrington fumed. "If you must know, a bomb was found in my office this morning, set to detonate at 8:30 AM, my constant arrival time."
"You make it sound like you come on an airplane every morning." Joanna began to taunt, but seeing Carrington's face, she knew to restrain herself. "A bomb," she paused, "in your office." Carrington nodded. "And you called me because...?"
"Agent Forth, our only official bomb expert was killed almost a year ago on the Shelvadore mission."
"Yes." she said, softening. "I remember now. I liked him." She shook her head. "This still doesn't explain why I'm here."
"You were never an official bomb expert, but you knew every device as well as Agent Forth did."
"Ah."
"Yes."
"Well, might I have a look?" she said, excited at the idea of examining a weapon. People were too easy, but weapons always presented a challenge.
"I'd love you to if I weren't so nervous about letting you walk through that room of executives and reporters. I hope you know I told them you were a capable and mature woman before your little entrance there."
"Liar. Want me to blow them all to hell?" she said, putting her hand on the Falcon at her side.
"No! Good Lord, Joanna, NO!" he yelled, pulling her hand down. She stuck her tongue out at him, and sauntered out through the doors. He sighed, and followed her, praying through his teeth.
A/n: This isn't a sequel to the game- it's another story, using the same characters. This is my first PD story, so if I get something totally wrong, let me know in your reviews.
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"Good morning, Carrington Institute, hope you're having a lovely day." Joanna smiled cheerfully, waiting for her transmission to come through. A man's voice finally replied, sounding serious and exasperated.
"Good morning, Agent Dark. How you can be cheerful when you're in as much trouble as you are is beyond me."
"Trouble is my job. I'll be reporting personally at 8. Any problems?"
"7, Agent Dark. Mr. Carrington would like a word with you himself." The transmission went dead. Joanna stifled a giggle, and strapped a Falcon to her belt. She stood up, flicking her bangs out of her eyes, and trotted out of her apartment door, past her car. She hopped on to her newest toy; a hoverbike stolen from Area 51. She sped across the city, hardly glancing at anything around her, and parked her bike in a small garage outside of Carrington Institute, a massive, intimidating building. Letting out a sigh, she glanced at her watch. 7:15. Close enough, she thought, and pushed open the glass doors. The sight that met her eyes was enough to make any normal woman stop dead in her tracks. Daniel Carrington, the owner of Carrington Institute was surrounded by executives, all looking important, and all looking very irritated. Joanna even spotted some reporters and photographers standing dumbfounded at the rear of the crowd. She smirked.
"Cute."
Carrington glared at her. "May I have a word with you in private, Agent Dark?" he said laboriously. She ignored him, grinning at the executives in the front who were staring at her in shock.
"What? Do I have something on my face?" she teased.
"Joanna!" Carrington practically screamed at her, turning the color of a spawning salmon. She raised an eyebrow, and walked over to him, silently, and painfully slowly. He jerked his head towards another set of glass double doors, leading down a hallway. They pushed through them, and Carrington didn't breathe until he and Joanna were safely alone behind the doors.
"Oh you can be so difficult sometimes." he muttered, making her smile again.
"It's in my blood." she assured him. He glared again.
"I don't suppose you'd ever care to hear the situation at hand before screwing it up though, hm? Before letting your blood work its magic?" He said bitterly.
"Mr. Carrington, you know I always try to let the blood of others work magic before I go worrying about my own, and-"
"Joanna!"
"Alright, sir, look, why don't you stop scolding, and let me know what exactly the situation at hand is?" Try as she might, Joanna couldn't seem to stop grinning wickedly.
Carrington fumed. "If you must know, a bomb was found in my office this morning, set to detonate at 8:30 AM, my constant arrival time."
"You make it sound like you come on an airplane every morning." Joanna began to taunt, but seeing Carrington's face, she knew to restrain herself. "A bomb," she paused, "in your office." Carrington nodded. "And you called me because...?"
"Agent Forth, our only official bomb expert was killed almost a year ago on the Shelvadore mission."
"Yes." she said, softening. "I remember now. I liked him." She shook her head. "This still doesn't explain why I'm here."
"You were never an official bomb expert, but you knew every device as well as Agent Forth did."
"Ah."
"Yes."
"Well, might I have a look?" she said, excited at the idea of examining a weapon. People were too easy, but weapons always presented a challenge.
"I'd love you to if I weren't so nervous about letting you walk through that room of executives and reporters. I hope you know I told them you were a capable and mature woman before your little entrance there."
"Liar. Want me to blow them all to hell?" she said, putting her hand on the Falcon at her side.
"No! Good Lord, Joanna, NO!" he yelled, pulling her hand down. She stuck her tongue out at him, and sauntered out through the doors. He sighed, and followed her, praying through his teeth.