Coffee bubbled merrily in its pot, and the tail-wagging cat hung on the wall, informing people of the time, with its eyes drifting side-to-side in time with the ticking of its clock abdomen. The frying eggs, simmering bacon and even the rustle and cough of a man holding a newspaper at the kitchen table added their own unique sounds to the kitchens symphony. In the middle of it all, sat a girl dressed in jet black, quite out of place in the bright, cheery kitchen. Her espresso hair fell sleek and straight about her face in a glistening frame, stopping its cascade just below her shoulders. A pale, slender hand, protruding from one of the shadowed sleeves, was incessantly tapping a silver lighter upon the surface of the table.
"Did you want anything to eat...What did you say your name was again, dear?" came the kind voice of the woman tending to the food sizzling on the oven range. The hand froze and the tapping stopped.
"Bree, and no thank you," said the girl. The two exchanged sweet smiled before turning away from each other once more, Bree rolling her eyes heavily. Just as she slid on a pair of dark sunglasses the phone at her hip rang. She reached down, listening to the woman hum softly behind her, flipped it open and held it to her ear.
"Get me the hell out of here Link," she said, getting up quickly from her seat and heading for the front door of the homey house.
"Oh come on Bree," came Link's voice from the other end, "It can be that bad."
"It was a pleasure to meet you dear," the woman called after Bree in her sugary voice. Bree had held the phone up so Link could hear her as well.
"Dear, eh?" he said as she put the phone back up to her ear, "I thought you throttled anyone who called you that?" Bree could hear him snicker, though she was sure he didn't want her to hear it. She rolled her eyes again and opened the door that led out onto the street.
"She's a program," she said wearily, stepping out onto the welcome mat, "She doesn't know any better." Bree shut the door behind her just as Link spoke again.
"Bree?"
"Yeah?"
"She wasn't a program." Bree froze outside the door, her eyebrows raised. As she stepped off the porch she caught a glimpse of the woman serving the man with the newspaper. She stopped to watch them a moment.
"I suddenly feel a lot of sympathy for that man...wait." She narrowed her eyes, trying to see the man more clearly through the lacy curtains. He had been reading that newspaper, not saying anything, the entire time Bree had been waiting, so Bree had not bothered to take a look at his face. Now however, something she noticed on her side of the window made her uneasy.
"Link," she whispered into the phone, her eyes never leaving what image of the man she could see, "You got an exit for me?"
"Yeah, why?" he asked, his voice picking up on her worry, "I can't see any agents around you." Bree listened, and almost relaxed, but time and experience had taught her to be ever vigilant.
"Just tell me where."
"J street, there's a payphone on the corner near a...pizza place." Bree nodded and was about to hang up the phone when she heard Link shriek.
"Bree! Get your ass out of there!" Bree was already running. The window she had been looking through into the kitchen had blown into pieces, the crack of a gunshot telling of its cause. Leaping through the open passage was the man who had been reading the paper. His clothing was a crisp suit, traditional black and white coloration, his sunglasses hiding any sign of his eyes. Clipped to his ear was an earpiece that even more marked him as the archenemy of someone like Bree. He took off after her, his speed amazing.
Bree was running for her life now, her arms pumping wildly, her legs carrying her forward. She was ignoring all commands from her body and her mind to stop, knowing that to do so would result in her death. She just had to get to "J" street. It wasn't that far, as she had just passed "D" street. Just a few more blocks. But the agent was quickly catching up to her and she knew that he would catch her long before she reached her destination. It was time for a detour. She veered left, just as another gunshot was fire, barely missed her and grazing her shoulder. The pain was intense.
Her breaths were becoming ragged as she sprinted through the dark alley, her boots splashing into mud puddles. She looked side-to-side as she ran, her eyes searching behind the glasses for any means of escaping. There, a door. She flung her body at it and luckily it was open. She shut it just as another bullet came whizzing at her, cracking the wood of the entrance. She bolted down the hall, passing the occupants of the house enjoying a nice dinner. They all stared as she passed, and she heard a few of them shriek with horror as the unmistakable sound of a door being rammed down split the eerie silence that came when one was running away from something else.
Bree knew she was running out of time, and energy. All ready her limbs were tiring greatly and her momentum had decreased. She reached the stairs and sprinted her way up them, turning right on the landing and slipping on a rug. Cursing loudly to herself she scrambled up and flew down the hallway, throwing herself into a bedroom and locking the door behind her. She plastered herself on the wall and began to fumble with the objects at her belt. She picked out a gun, ensured herself that it was loaded, and then gazed around her momentary sanctuary. She could already hear footsteps on the stairs. Breathing heavily her eyes caught sight of a window, and she grimaced as she realized it was her only option.
Taking a deep breath she ran at the window, just as the agent forced open the door. There were many gunshots, and she felt some of them graze her skin through her clothes, but her focus was on the window. She hurled her body through the air and crashed through the window, twirling in the air. The agent chasing her continued to fire bullet after bullet, as Bree flailed in the atmosphere and landed, a little more roughly then she would have like, on a display of fruit outside a supermarket. Slipping and sliding she rose to her feet, covered in fruit pulp, and dashed off down the street, the familiar scent of pizza reaching her nostrils.
The payphone was in sight, she could see it. She could hear the phone ringing as she neared, and feel the sense of home resonating off of it. She could also feel more agents behind her. She dared not look back to see how many. She was so close. So very close. She just yards away and she took a giant leap forward and landed hard against the pane glass door. She grabbled with the handle and threw the door open, reaching inside and grabbing the phone. She jammed it up to her ear and immediately felt her coded self dissolve and the needle slide out of the back of her head.
Bree lay there, gasping for a long time, her blurred vision becoming clearer every second until she saw many faces surrounding her. Link was there, his dark face gazing down at her with worry, Bolt, his prominent green eyes distinct and warmly familiar, Magnet, his brother though the there was a significant difference between them marking them un-blood related, and Stella, the only other girl on board besides Bree herself. And then face she enjoyed seeing the most, the face of their captain, the face of her beloved Ace. Sitting up from her chair she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. She knew they had all been thinking the same thing: she wasn't going to make it. She had been thinking it herself.
"That...was...invigorating," she chuckled, her laughter wheezing. They all laughed a little nervously, but they all had enormous looks of relief on their faces. Bree released Ace and then hopped from her chair, clutching her abdomen and wincing. The worst of the gunshots she had suffered was there, bloody and ragged.
"Let's get those checked out," Ace said, smiling softly. He nodded to Bolt, and Stella who walked forward and helped Bree out of the "jack room" and through a steel door. Still inside the room, Ace and Link exchanged a look. They were both having the same thought, but it was Ace who voiced it.
"How did we not see the agent?"