Disclaimer- Everyone knows that I take no credit for anything but this story. No money going from hand to hand is happening here, peoples!
WS- Well, this is a pretty random fic, just so you know. I got a random idea and I loved it. Let's see how everyone else likes it, shall we? Right now, R&R or I won't update!
Chapter One: A Goth Agent!
The music was playing loud. A beautiful blonde with dazzling blue eyes and pearly white teeth walked up to one of the younger men, who seemed about her age. The club didn't serve booze, but it had alcohol, which was in her hand.
When she offered it to him, he took it, and nodded a thank you. She smiled charmingly and he got the message. He smiled wryly and followed her upstairs to a few private rooms. As it turned out, she lived in one of the rooms.
Inside her living space, there wasn't all that much color, but it was modern. So, it was mostly white with a few splashes from the color wheel here and there.
She was expecting a good night, and thought that he was, too. But, she only hoped he used protection. No matter, she thought, we'll work it out in the morning.
She turned to pour them both some wine and didn't even feel what happened next.
The man pulled a gun silently from his waistband and aimed at the back of her blonde head. A small smile played across his lips, and he pulled the trigger.
The muffler on the gun made it so that no one would be able to hear it. The dead girl would be found soon enough. He had been careful to leave no fingerprints, and slipped some gloves on. He opened the door, closed it behind him, and walked casually back down to the club.
Later
A brunette laughed at a crude joke a friend of hers had made about blondes. Her laugh was sharp, and attracting.
He made his move.
The dance floor had a lot of people on it, but some were holding back from dancing to the salsa music. He walked over and leaned on the wall next to her, raising his eyebrows mischievously.
She smiled and scanned him. He was to her liking. Her friend chuckled, and walked out to find a dance partner, leaving her on her own.
They got a hotel later that night. There was champagne in the room. They both drank their fill, and she turned away to close the blinds in the one window. The room was dark, perfect for what she had in mind.
And perfect for what he had in mind, too.
He drew the gun and fired.
The curtains being drawn was the last thing she ever saw.
Later
The alarm clock went off, waking both of the girls in the room. Danielle opened her eyes, revealing white-green irises, encased in a forest green line separating the color from the whites of her eyes. Her short black hair hung in her face, and she brushed it away as she sat up.
Across the room, Rebecca was doing the same. She was short, as you could see when she stood up, and her long blonde hair spilled over her shoulders as she walked to the closet to get her clothes.
This was a typical college morning. It was 7:00AM and school would start in thirty minutes. Danielle stood up and walked to the closet when Rebecca had chosen her outfit: a pink blouse and floral skirt. Danielle gave Rebecca a wide berth. It was bad enough that they had the same room.
Rebecca walked into one bathroom, and Danielle into the other. She stripped off her T-shirt and pajama pants—both black—and shrugged on a black shirt—three-quarter sleeves—and pulled on black jeans. After her quick hygiene she snapped on a black dog collar with spikes and put on her cosmetics—black eyeliner, dark lipstick, and a little bit of dark-colored eyeshadow.
Yes, Danielle was a full-fledged Goth. Her black and white Converse All-Stars were next to her bed. She walked out of the bathroom and slipped them on, grabbing her black and red backpack at the same time.
Rebecca walked out, careful to watch what Danielle was doing. Everyone in the college gave her a wide berth. Rumors had spread about her. She had been absent from the entire college for weeks at a time. No one could find her, or figure out where she had been when she came back.
Even the other Goths showed respect to her, and didn't go near her a whole lot. But they definitely weren't as afraid as the others. Even the teachers watched her.
Danielle walked out of the room. There were a few other people there, walking through the halls to who-knows-where. But, she was early, and wanted to take a quick walk. She did almost every morning—that she was at the college, anyway.
More than once a teenager glanced at her either suspiciously or nervously while she was going down the hall. One other Goth passed her, giving a swift, small nod of recognition.
Truthfully, Danielle was glad most of them kept their distance—as glad as a very Gothic girl could get. Which wasn't much, at her level.
Brian, whose nickname was Exo, was standing at the door, waiting for her. He had to talk to her for a moment, and knew her routine. He wore his normal attire of black jeans with chains and a black T-shirt, his black hair falling into his face.
Danielle stopped, knowing he was about to say something. He never came to this side of the building unless he wanted to talk with her.
"We want to know if you're coming tonight," he said flatly. His voice held no emotion, no ups or downs. He was almost as Goth-acting as she was.
"I'll try," she said in return. Her voice was slightly high, but seemed low, too. It was right there in the middle of both pitches. When she had first arrived and no one thought anything about her, she had turned quite a few male heads by her voice and features. Many wondered why she wasted herself, who obviously had potential, so thoroughly.
He nodded and stepped to go back down the hall to his class. Danielle raised an eyebrow; usually he skipped the first one. But no matter. She had a few minutes to walk, and she was going to take them as usual.
She opened the door and the parking lot was in front of her. A decorative shrub on both sides of her, she scanned the cars and saw that it didn't seem to be hiding anyone there. The rich blue color of the sky and the sun, no clouds blocking it, made the day nice and warm but not hot.
She didn't care about the weather. There didn't seem to be anyone out here, so she continued on the side of the parking lot, past all sorts of different cars, and one motorcycle.
She had to be on alert every time she stepped outside. It was her little secret, and why she kept disappearing without a trace. She was on the hit list of several agencies around the world. The little Goth girl was a spy hired by who else but the Phoenix Foundation. After all, who would expect a college student, Goth at that, to be harmful?
Her watch read that she had five more minutes to get inside, two minutes to get to class. That was enough.
Little did she know, except for the feeling she had, that she was being watched from inside a black SUV. There was a faked license plate on the vehicle, and tinted windows. No one could see in, but he could see out.
Her eyes narrowed when she heard something behind her. A car door opening and shutting. But she didn't turn. She was confident in her abilities, being a Black Belt. Of course, only she knew about her Shotokan Karate abilities. Other than her instructor, of course.
Foot steps. They were calm, controlled, but coming up right behind her…. She decided to turn around, to act like she was going back in. That would be the best thing to do.
She stopped, and started to turn when she saw, in the corner of her eye, a glint in the sunlight. Gun!
Her brain forced her into action. She turned around quickly, seeing someone start to aim a gun at her, and the guy was right there. She wouldn't be able to dodge the shot.
Her lips curled into a snarl as she did a round kick, hitting with the top of her foot from the side, and knocked the gun out of the man's hand. She did a front kick, bringing her leg up and lashing at him with the bottom of her foot, hitting him in the gut.
He staggered back, obviously surprised. His hand went for his boot, and before she could stop him, he pulled out another gun. The safety was off, and he had it locked on her head.
"Freeze or it'll be the last thing you don't do," the man said. He brushed sandy blonde hair back from his eyes, revealing a young face. He was probably in his early twenties, not much older than she. His tan skin made his bright green eyes stand out vividly. He wore black boots, a navy blue T-shirt, and khaki trousers. Standing upright he was about 6'5", three inches taller than Danielle.
When she did as she was told, her eyes narrowed and fierce, piercing, he smiled. "So, I'm finally gonna get to the big time as a bounty hunter, I suppose. Catching Sparta is what I've heard is the hardest thing ever." He seemed to say it to himself.
Sparta was her nickname, her codename. Her real name used to be Dacia, a fallen Roman empire. She had changed it to Danielle. Her name was a Roman city, so her nickname was a Greek city. She had chosen Sparta for its reputation in being quick, cunning, ruthless, and perseverant.
She didn't do a thing. Her eyes didn't wander to the barrel of the gun as it would have with many people. She could see that the man was off guard, glad that this was so easy. That was good. She almost smiled for once at the man's stupidity.
Being off guard was the worst mistake you could make with Sparta. She always took her opportunities.
She did a spin kick and hit the man's wrist, sending the gun flying into the sewer. He reached for the other one, his handsome face distorted with anger and annoyance. She kicked it away, not taking the time to pick it up, and ran.
She knew not to run into the college. That wouldn't be safe. She would be visible in the halls. There was a park on the other side of the parking lot. She could get there….
A shot rang out over her head. She dodged around a parked car and stepped up over the curb on the opposite side of the lot from where she had been when he had pulled the gun out.
Another shot. She knew not to look back; it made no difference. She could hear his heavy footsteps on the pavement. Were they getting closer?
She couldn't tell, but pumped her long legs faster. She moved swiftly, gracefully, quietly, and ran through some bushes and behind a few trees. Who had sent this guy? She peeked around one tree and saw the man. He was walking through the same bushes she had, and had obviously lost her. His gun was sweeping from side to side, and so were his eyes.
Sparta pulled her head back where he wouldn't see and nodded in satisfaction to herself. She hadn't worked up a sweat, and her heart rate had come up very little. She had kept her cool, and was used to sprinting even longer than she had just done.
"Oh, Sparta, where are you?" the man called, his voice mocking. He was still expecting something easy. Another fatal error. She could hear his heavy breathing from the short run, his steps making noise in the dead leaves on the ground, could almost feel his quick heart rate.
But he wasn't near her. She could tell that much. He didn't know where she was, which was good. But his breathing was loud. His voice might have sounded far off, but his very foot steps….
She heard—no, felt—something to her side, and spun to see. Her eyes widened slightly, and the butt of a gun hit the side of her head. It was the last thing she experienced at the college that day.
Later
So, Pete, I hear you have another assignment for me?" MacGyver asked. His reputation always got him the hardest jobs. What would it be this time? Chasing Murdoc, investigating his latest murder? Stopping an assassination plot? Escorting the queen of England?
"You hear right," Pete replied. His almost bald head glinted slightly in the light. He didn't say anything more.
"And it would be…?" MacGyver replied, raising his eyebrows inquisitively. Maybe it was something new, something different. That might be good for him.
"A Phoenix Foundation agent disappeared yesterday morning. No one's seen a trace of her since. One kid said he went out for her usual walk and that's the last he saw of her. She's good, which means if something happened, there are lots of things you have to watch out for. Also, there's a string of murders that we think is attached to all of this somehow," Peter Thornton explained.
"Great…." MacGyver sighed. If it was a Phoenix agent, missing for 36 hours, then she was most likely dead. But, there was always a chance.
"Yeah. Here's the thing: she's a college student. She's Goth. She's our secret weapon. You can recognize her simply by her choice of style sometimes. She wears nothing but black and red, she wears spiky dog collars, and too much eyeliner. But she's good. Because of the numb vibe all Goths normally have, she keeps cool in the toughest situations, no matter what. And no one suspects her until it is too late."
"Wait, a college student? Why would we even send someone that young into these things? She may be useful, but that's crossing the line in my opinion!" MacGyver was so startled, he nearly fell back into his chair after he shot up, hearing the news.
"True. But it's not my call, and I hate it as much as you. But she volunteered to be an agent, and has a choice on every mission we sign her to. Being young doesn't affect her, she's one of the best," Pete replied.
He sat down again. "Okay. Where do I start?"
"We got a call from HIT. Apparently, they have her. They want to trade her for you. We want you to go in and get her out, getting you both out."
"HIT? You mean Murdoc's organization?" He raised his eyebrows. As it seemed, the girl really got around if she were to tick off HIT.
"Yeah. Her name's Dacia. She never tells her real name. If someone asks, she says Danielle. Her nickname is Sparta. She also prefers to be called Sparta, and won't so much as reply if you call her Dacia."
"Okay. When do I leave, then?"
"As soon as you're ready."
"I'm ready."
Later
The second Sparta woke up, she opened her eyes. Unlike in movies, she wasn't going to turn her head, moan, and then open her eyes all feminine-like.
Her eyes were fierce; she was angry. Well, sort of angry. It was more like knowing she needed to stay alert, to act fierce. The whole numb thing kept her from feeling anything, including anger. It helped her in times like these; she couldn't lose her cool no matter what.
"Well, well, well." A voice came from behind her. She became aware of her surroundings and realized that she was seated in a chair, hands nor feet bound, facing a table with adults sitting at it, watching her, looking smug. The rest of the room was dark, so she couldn't see anything else. But she didn't sense anyone else near.
Sparta didn't say anything back. She knew it was best to keep quiet in times like these. Instead she squared her shoulders, sat straight, and raised her chin.
The man who was talking smiled, still smug. He obviously thought it was amusing. Her had fairly full hair, dark eyes, tan skin, and a large, vivid scar across the left side of his face. He was seated at the center of the long table, and he was now the leader of HIT. He was MacGyver's worst foe. He was Murdoc.
Later
She's in this building, to the right?" MacGyver asked. He was talking into a satellite phone, and knew that Pete could tell him because he was being tracked, the phone holding a device that allowed the Phoenix Foundation to watch his movements, to help him with his geography.
"Yeah." Pete nodded, a hundred miles away in the Phoenix Foundation building. He only nodded to himself, though. The screen that showed MacGyver as a large blue dot on the map of the city he was in was in front of him.
"Good. What should I expect? Were there any warnings when they called and proposed the trade?" MacGyver asked. He eyed the building warily, watching for any hi-tech security systems, cameras, guards…anything.
"They didn't. You'll have to wing this, Mac. Hopefully you'll find Sparta safe and sound. If you run into trouble, abort." The last sentence was said sternly.
"Alright, Pete. I'm turning this off and going in. When I turn it off, will you still be able to track me?"
"Yes."
"Good. Bye." He shut it off before Pete could answer, flicking the switch and pushing the small device through his belt. As always, his gear consisted of no guns, and one Swiss army knife.
He didn't have back-up, as usual. Big surprise. The Phoenix Foundation preferred not to send large groups into anything, where they would be easily detected. MacGyver might not be the stealthiest agent they had, but he was the best for this job. He knew how Murdoc and HIT worked. Most of the time.
Later
Sparta decided it was time to say something.
"What do you want with me?" she asked flatly. Her throat was dry, but she managed to keep it from going hoarse with concentration. A lump had formed on the side of her head, and it smarted.
"We don't want anything but information from you, Sparta," Murdoc said, and cocked his head, smiling. "We want MacGyver. We're simply using you to get him."
Sparta had heard of MacGyver. He was one of the Phoenix Foundation agents. She had heard that he had dealt with things like HIT, a serial killer named Murdoc, and various other things. He was good, everyone said.
"What kind of information?" She looked him right in the eye. But, she knew that she wasn't going to give him any information.
Murdoc smiled wider. His face crinkled, making him even uglier. "Why, my dear, about the Phoenix Foundation, of course." His smile dropped off of his face, and his voice turned serious. "How many agents do they have? Who are their top agents? What's the next big mission?" he demanded.
"I don't know." Her voice was flat, her eyes still trained on his.
He rolled his eyes, just a cover-up to break the gaze with those fierce, bone-chilling eyes. "Don't give me that. Answer the questions."
"I'm not one of their higher agents. I don't even know if I'm considered an agent to them. I don't know any of their secrets other than what I need to know about missions they send me on. I haven't gone on one for a couple of months." Still, she showed no emotion. She couldn't have; she didn't feel any.
"Well, then, I suppose this is going to get interesting."
WS- I hope you like it! It'll get even better! Please review!