Chapter 1
Welcome to Division
In order to be selected to join Division, Arya needed to get its attention. She also needed to be arrested and jailed so that Division could integrate her into its program. After much deliberation, Arya had made her decision. She was going to kill Carlos.
Thanks to Max's intel, Arya knew that Carlos would be in California. He was a difficult man to find, but Max had the skill to hack into all available resources and the intuition to connect the seemingly random scraps of information that he had discovered about Carlos's recent activities.
Airport security made traveling with guns nearly impossible. Arya didn't have the guts for an up close personal killing, so knives were also not an option. Explosives would work nicely. Luckily, Arya knew where to go for the equipment that she would need.
During her time working for the government, Arya had amassed a mental database of civilians with unique talents who could come in handy. These individuals were used covertly by the government at one time or another as suppliers or for other forms of assistance. Once she left the government most of Arya's time was spent with Carlos, so Arya had not seen or spoken to any of these people for many years. She would just have to trust that their locations had not changed.
The plane landed at LAX Airport after an uneventful flight. The California weather was as warm and beautiful as ever, and the smog that usually hung over the area had practically disappeared. Arya took it as a good omen.
For safety's sake, Arya wanted to change her appearance to ensure that she would not be recognized. Carlos was scheduled to enter Los Angeles shortly, and Arya couldn't risk him or his contacts seeing her. In order for her plan of entry to Division to work, Arya had to remain as anonymous as possible.
Arya figured that James, the man from whom she would buy the explosives, would be more likely to sell to her if he were intimidated by her appearance. Arya was no longer a covert government agent, and without the power of the government she would need some influence to convince the man to sell her explosives. She anticipated that James would be reluctant to sell to her because Arya was planning to set off the explosives in the area, and the materials could potentially be traced back to James if Arya got caught.
A thrift store caught her attention. It was a rundown shop where Arya wouldn't be noticed. She entered through a squeaky wooden door and was surprised by the number of customers inside. Racks of clothing were lined up against the cracked, stone walls while shoes were kept in large cardboard boxes. Purses, jewelry, and other accessories were strewn about several long tables.
A flash of inspiration struck Arya as she scanned the store. She quickly gathered everything she needed and approached the cash register. The woman at the register wore heavy makeup and her bleached blond hair was piled into a formidable beehive.
"How much are these?" asked Arya, laying the items on the counter.
"For you, hon, that'll be a hundred dollars." said the woman.
Arya dropped a hundred dollar bill into the cashier's hand.
"Is there anywhere I can change?"
"Go right on back, and there'll be a bathroom to your right."
Arya entered the grimy bathroom, careful not to touch anything. She took off her top and her jeans and put on the outfit she had bought. Feeling slightly ridiculous, Arya put on the jewelry that she had purchased as well. Something was missing. Makeup.
Luckily, Arya carried around eyeliner and concealer in her purse. She did it not for vanity but because carefully applied makeup could instantly alter her appearance. Smoky eyes did the trick. Arya smudged the liner a little more and was satisfied.
She stepped out of the bathroom and made her way to the exit of the store. The cashier's jaw dropped.
Arya wore a black leather corset, tightly laced to emphasize her curves, with matching skintight pants. Fitted stiletto boots added a few inches to her height. A diamond skull pendant hung between her breasts, and her hands were adorned with many silver rings.
Arya left the shop and headed down the street. She began to embody a tough girl persona to match her outfit. Arya no longer walked; she swaggered, enjoyed the appreciative glances thrown her way.
Walking quickly in her shoes was no easy feat, so Arya hitched a ride in a taxi. She was dropped off at an auto-body shop. Arya walked up the driveway and followed the rock music blasting from inside. James was lying on his back underneath a red Chevrolet. Arya grabbed him by an ankle and pulled him out from under the car. She leaned over him, surveying him casually.
His eyes flickered from her exposed midriff to her mischievously glinting gray-green eyes.
"What can I do for you sweetheart?" he asked nonchalantly, as though this was how he was treated every day.
"Well," she purred, "you can start with ten kilos of C-4."
"What makes you think I have any?" he countered.
She pouted. With a sigh, she pulled out a switchblade.
"I hate scruffy men. You need a shave."
Arya began to trim some of the blond stubble on James' face.
"I need my C-4." she continued. "If I don't get it, I won't be happy. When I'm upset, I tend to get a little bit sloppy, and we don't want that to happen now do we?"
She slid the knife down his chin closer to his throat. Arya smirked with satisfaction as she felt James' pulse quicken.
"It's in the shed out back. I'll take you there."
"Good boy." she said, giving him a pat on the head.
Keeping her knife trained on James, Arya followed him through the body shop. With the bandana tied around his head, unbuttoned flannel shirt, and grease stained jeans James fit right in with the piles of car parts and smell of motor oil.
"I just need to stop in my office and get the key to the shed." said James.
Arya leaned against the doorframe as James went to open a filing cabinet. His face betrayed his true intentions. She threw the knife right at his wrist, pinning the sleeve to the wall before he could reach inside the drawer.
"What the hell! You almost cut off my hand!"
"Let's see what you were really looking for," said Arya scathingly, "because it sure wasn't the key to your shed."
She reached into the drawer and pulled out a handgun.
"Now, James," she said wagging a finger disapprovingly, "I thought we could be friends and then you try to pull a gun on me."
"How did you know?" he asked incredulously.
"Trade secret." was the coy reply.
She stuck the gun into the waistband of her pants with a bit of difficulty because they were skintight.
With a yank, Arya pulled her knife out of the wall and released James' arm. Her appearance and clear enjoyment of her work combined with her impressive skill was successfully scaring the crap out of James and turning him on at the same time.
"OK, take it easy." reassured James. "No more tricks. I'll give you what you want."
He located the box of C-4 which was hidden in the back of the shop. He pulled out a block of the clay-like explosive.
"This should be enough." he said, handing it over. "I trust you know how to use it."
Arya wrapped the block in a rag, but had no fears about it exploding before she needed it to. The property of C-4 that made it so useful was that it would not combust without a detonator.
As payment Arya handed James a wad of bills large enough to cover the cost of the C4 plus some extra cash to apologize for her unconventional methods.
"You are one badass chick." James said with a hint of admiration. "When you're done blowing stuff up, we should get together."
Arya winked at him and blew a kiss.
"Gotta run," she said, "but I'll be back eventually."
Arya headed to the parking lot of an overpriced restaurant on Rodeo Drive. There were a handful of cars parked in the lot, but Arya knew instantly which one belonged to Carlos. She made a mental note to find a way to thank Max. Once again he had been right.
She crouched down next to the black Lexus making sure to stay out of the line of vision of the driver who was seated in the front. Arya stuck the C4 underneath the car making sure it was secure. She carefully inserted the detonator and listen for the almost inaudible beep that told her the detonator had been activated. In thirty minutes, Arya's life would change forever.
In order to make sure that she would not chicken out, Arya set aside her feelings. She had to remain detached and treat this like any other job. Still watching Carlos's driver, Arya crawled on her hands and knees behind another car. She stuck her and through the open window and unlocked the door.
Luck was on Arya's side. Modern cars are much harder to hotwire than older ones, but this car was clearly made several decades ago. Her hands were slow because she was out of practice, but Arya hadn't lost her touch. She started the car and drove onto the street where she waited for Carlos to emerge from the restaurant. Twenty six minutes left.
Just to be safe Arya ducked when Carlos's car drove by. She followed him, careful to stay several cars behind. They headed towards a bridge. Traffic was painfully slow, increasing Arya's agitation. She eased the car closer to Carlos's Lexus and tried to steady her shaking hands.
An accident up ahead made traveling impossible. The cars idled on the bridge with nowhere to go. Only a few impatient honking horns broke the silence. Five minutes left.
Arya crept forward so that the bumper of her car was practically touching the Lexus. She needed to protect the civilians from the impending explosion, and she would do so by pushing Carlos off the bridge into the water below. Arya would kill two birds with one stone. She would protect the innocents on the bridge and also get the attention of the cop sitting a few cars ahead so that she could get arrested for murder. Two minutes left.
With thirty seconds until the explosion, Arya accelerated hard and rammed her car into Carlos's vehicle sending it over the edge of the bridge. Just before the car hit the water there was a spectacular boom. Scraps of metal flew everywhere and landed in the water to be carried away by the current.
Arya barely had time to register the cop approaching with his gun drawn before she passed out in her seat. The downside to an old car was that it had no airbags leaving her head free to collide with the dashboard. The cop carried Arya out of the wreck of the car and placed her in the back of his squad car.
When she woke up in the backseat of the car, the only thing Arya said was, "Did I get the bastard?"
"Yeah." said the cop. "There's no way anyone survived that crash."
Arya nearly wept with relief. From there she was silent, only to waive her right to council. The courts were heavily backed up, so Arya was placed in a holding cell until her trial.
When Arya opened her eyes, there was a man standing over her. Terror gripped her entire body. Carlos must have put her here with this man to guard her. Her eyes wide and unfocused, Arya could do nothing but scream.
Michael felt his gut wrench at the inhuman cry emerging from her lips. The girl shouted at him in French, but Michael could not understand her. His French was rusty and in her hysteria she spoke too fast for him to catch her words.
"I'm not going to hurt you." he said gently. "My name is Michael. You're not in prison anymore."
His words seemed to bring her back to the present. The haze in her eyes cleared and she met his gaze defiantly.
"Who are you?"
"I work for the government. For a group called Division. We have decided to give you a second chance. If you had gone to trial, you would have been sentenced to death for killing Carlos on that bridge. Now you have a shot at life with us."
"How do you know about me?" she asked warily. "Why me?"
"Division keeps its eyes open for potential recruits like you: unattached, attractive, with nothing to lose. We think you could be a strong addition to our team."
"What kind of team to you belong to?"
"You'll find out. Your training starts at five thirty tomorrow morning."
"And if I don't cooperate?"
"Right now, anyone who goes looking for you will find your remains in a prison cemetery. The world thinks that you drowned yourself in a bathtub. If you don't comply there is still room in that grave."
Arya looked around the room where she was being held. It was sterile with a bed, desk, and chair all colored white or grey. There were no windows. She supposed she would get used to it.
Michael turned to leave.
"One more thing." he said. "Welcome to Division."
Author's Note: I recently learned about beta readers, but I'm not sure how to find one. If any of you are interested in beta reading this story please let me know. Also, I'm sorry for the delay, but with finals and a computer virus things were pretty crazy. I'll do my best to keep updating as regularly as I can.
Feedback would be awesome!