"Agent 66," I said brusquely. "And that's all you need to know."
The words rolled off my tongue, as if rehearsed in front of a mirror and whispered occasionally once in a while, just for practice. Which, in truth, they were.
Chapter 5
Of one thing, I was absolutely certain; we needed to get out of here. And very, very fast. I was just one agent, and even though I was good, I couldn't fight all of the Mask, not even my parents could. So once again, I had to come up with some kind of plan. But as it turned out, they hadn't anticipated that anyone would be able to go anywhere, so there wasn't a single person in sight. I'm sorry, but how does this work? my parents disappeared and potentially died, for this? These people were a bunch of idiots in masks. God. So anyway, we simply walked out of the door, me still shirtless, since I had lost my shirt, or left it, or whatever. But I then realized that the masks weren't as dumb as they seemed. There were about ten guards outside, and they really hadn't needed to guard the hallways after all, since it was unlikely that someone would get past the Masks inside, much less get past the ones stationed outside. This was very, very bad. Well, I wasn't going to get out of this unharmed, so why not just go ahead and fight them already? I drew the two guns, already knowing where I would point them. They were packed in together now, since they had seen me, and that made everything a lot easier. If I got rid of the one right there and aimed the bullet towards the side, it would be a distraction, especially when he would fall on either the one on his right, left, or the slightly obese-looking one behind. I did just I had planned, and was now watching my anticipated results. Just as I had thought, he didn't fall over in the front. Then I aimed it at their feet, shooting away with my tiny gun. They had all stumbled around, growling in pain. I aimed again and again, but they were still coming closer. I felt a sharp heat searing through my arm, and then something warm and wet sliding down. How dare he! Didn't he know that knives were so out, anyway? As if reading my find, he pulled out another gun, and pointed at Brent, at me, and then at Brent again. I shot blindly to the right, and he looked up, startled, then I turned my attention over to his legs, and tried my best to ignore the searing pain coming from my arm. It was sending shockwave after shockwave of horrible, sickening heat across my arm. I almost felt drained and tired, like I was about to fall over in an instant and just go right to sleep. Yeah, in an all out battle? I don't think so. I could sense Brent staring at me again, and I knew my arm looked disgusting. I shot my good arm into the air, knocking a pistol from that obese one. That took a lot of strength, I thought. Man, is he strong. I threw some punches and kicks, giving black eyes and concussions all around. I felt dizzy, and realized that I no longer knew what I was doing, but acting purely on instinct. My mind seemed to be fuzzy, and every punch and kick into my ribs seemed to be coming from far away, as if I was watching someone else from far away. And then, another shockwave of pain came along, and I seemed to snap back to reality. I looked around, only one of the masks was still standing, and he grinned. He had a perfect set of straight teeth, but it almost looked like they were disintegrating. Well, I thought. I guess we know what happens when we don't take very good care of yourselves. Ugh, this was gross. I could practically smell his breath from over here. And let me tell you, rotting teeth do not smell good.
"Wow," he said in a deep, raspy voice. "They weren't kidding. You do have talent. Just like your parents, eh?" he took in my shocked expression, obviously finding it to be to his liking.
"Oh, I remember that day very clearly," he continued. "And, if I do say so myself, you look a lot like your mother. Maybe, you will even have the same kinds of deaths. Wait a minute, I even remember the last word she ever said, or should I say, whispered."
He was smiling openly now.
"What was it? Oh, yes. Angela. That was it. And then she just, well…you probably know that part, don't you? I have the honor of saying I was the one who finished her, too. But I shouldn't brag. Angela, was it? Yes, I've had my fair share of glory, but you wouldn't want me to live, would you? You wouldn't want to spend the rest of your life knowing that the man who killed your mother is alive and well, just because he slipped through your fingers. No, no. That would be simply tragic. But you should know, I'm quite fond of tragedies."