Who? A/Z (Assassin-esque)

Wishing everyone a (belated) happy festival of lights!

Diwali

Firecrackers exploded around the young woman, instantly reflecting blues and purples into her short dark hair. Enjoying the wild laughter and spirit of those around her, Ami sat back and relaxed, sipping her spicy chai. She had been in Mumbai for the better part of a year – finding its chaos, lax telecommunication laws, and general attitude towards security ideal for her ministrations.

After breaking a loveless engagement to her high school sweetheart, Greg, she had accepted the exotic post immediately – for once, not thoroughly thinking through her actions. With nothing more than her high end electronic equipment and a worn Louis Vuitton duffle, she landed in the heaving city of 13 million and assimilated quickly – finding a well located non-descript flat close to markets and one of the nicer hotels.

Gently touching the little clay diva in front of her, she considered the tradition behind the celebration of lights. All around her, people literally rejoiced in the simple, but powerful triumph of good over evil. The tiny flame flickered merrily and Ami wondered if all large concepts could be broken down to such small gestures. To take a break from her complicated world of numbers, codes, speed, accuracy, and planning was necessary. She didn't mind not having anyone to share the holiday with and was well accustomed to a solitary lifestyle.

And yet… Tonight, after finishing a major 3 month objective, she had felt keyed up, too excited, and had escaped the confines of her apartment to join in the celebrating city.

"Namaste."

Broken from her reverie, the young woman looked up, surprised to see a Western man standing in front of her – his blonde hair identifying him in a sea of dark heads. Instantly wary, she wondered what his background was. He was too well groomed to be a backpacker, and while his stance was an easy one, she sensed some deeper danger in his presence.

A wild thought entered her conscience.

In the past couple of months, the assignment of her handler had changed. While Ami had no way of knowing whether she was dealing with a man or woman, over time, they had developed a sort of relationship. She looked forward to the missives he sent her, anxiously anticipating the intelligent quips and gleaning whatever background information she could about 'him.'

"Can I join you?" he asked in an accented voice.

"Certainly."

He slid onto the rough wooden bench next to her, not quite crowding her space, but sitting closer than was necessary. Knowing personal space was not highly valued in the country, she chided herself for her reaction.

"Been in town long?"

Ami's cover went deep, and she answered dutifully, "I work at the American embassy."

"Do you enjoy the job?"

Still unsure who she was speaking with, she decided to push the envelope and replied, "It's interesting, very self directed."

"How's your boss?"

"I rarely see him."

"What's his name? I also work in diplomatic circles, maybe I know him."

Ami chewed her bottom lip a moment before she said, "He has a funny nickname actually..."

The man next to her turned to face her. She detected an interesting sparkle in his green eyes and although it went against all protocol, could potentially cost her job, and was plainly a risky decision, she finished by revealing the handle of her contact, "...he goes by the name Zoicite."

AN: For the record, I see Amy very much as a Lisbeth Salander in this context…