"Agent Dust has been compromised."
"How do we know?"
"We just received a package with his head in it."
"Then they knew where to send it. Not good."
"Sir, they know everything. Even worse."
-Undisclosed Agent of the Mist Clouds
Slowly, and with incredible precision, I make my way through the marketplace. I groan silently in my head as a Firebender patrol cuts in front of me. For a second, I think that they are going to notice my black attire and accost me. They do nothing besides look at me out of the corners of their helmets and keep walking. As their crimson armor passes by me, I wonder just why the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation still uses the bulky designs that they do. The Confederacy turned to using light armor, usually just fire and puncture resistant cloth, early in the war. It allows Waterbenders and Airbenders to move faster and makes us more flexibly.
I push my way through a throng of crimson and green bodies towards a stall that has long red robes hanging from a rack. In front of the stall are racks of robes and scarves. From afar, I pick out a simple crimson robe and scarf that seem in-fashion. When I get close to the stall, I snatch them off the rack without a second glance. I take a few more steps to judge if anyone saw me or not. When no one yells for me to stop, I keep walking.
I go through my plan in my head:
Step One, make contact with the local Agent.
Step Two, set up a base of operations.
Step Three, begin surveillance.
Three steps. Easy, concise, and simple. I wrap the robe around me, and delight in that it is not a complicated design. I twine the scarf around my head in order to hide my face. Let everyone think I'm some sort of celebrity; Fire Nation people will believe anything.
I walk along the obsidian streets of the Caldara city, looking desperately for the bar where I was instructed to meet the local Agent. The files I was given back in Republic City told me he spent his time at the most expensive bars and restaurants in the Caldara. I assume that the Mist Directive covers all of his expenses. Why they pay for it all is beyond me. Perhaps he is just a really exemplar Agent.
I see a familiar name outside of an ornate maple colored building. Chairs are arranged around circular tables outside, and I scan them all. I see a few members of the Dai Li eating and laughing at a table in a far corner of the fenced in eating area, their domed hats leaning against the backs of their chair legs. I quickly slow my heart beat, afraid that they will sense my nervousness through the vibrations in the ground.
A figure leaving the building catches my eye. He is short, lithe, and wears a pair of dusty cloth shorts and a baggy tan tunic. His arms and legs are covered with raggedy bandage wrappings, and his face is covered by the shadow of the large straw hat that he wears.
On his back is a long platinum rifle, and the barrel of it gleams ominously in the midday sun.
After a few seconds of standing in the doorway, the figure touches the brim of his hat, and then walks back inside the building as though nothing had just occurred.
Without another thought, I hurry inside the maple building. Inside is an elaborate bar, and several ornate people sit around a gold-trimmed arc of wood. The bartender is a fat man who looks like he drinks half of what he prepares. I look around the dark room and see several tables scattered around the bar, some of which have fabulously dressed men and women drinking and eating from small baskets of orange fire flakes.
In the farthest corner of the room, slowly sipping from a glass of clear liquid, is the Agent. A low light hangs above his table, casting a dim glow over his hands, and illuminating his silver rifle. The rifle is propped against the wall at his side. As I slowly approach him, I look at the many attachments connected to it. It has a bipod, a shoulder sling, a large scope, and a suppressor. Etched along the side of the scope are eleven dark circles. As I get closer, I notice that they were not carved into the gun. It looks like they were pressed into it.
I pull the chair out from across the Agent. "Good morning." I say, falling right back into procedure.
The figure's hat dips. "Good evening." I cannot see the figure's eyes, which is unnerving. Even more unnerving is that his upper face is covered in the shadow from his hat.
"Lovely day for a stroll around the city," I say politely and meaningfully, "Around the Capitol."
The figure's only visible body part, his mouth, forms into a grin. The figure's teeth are pasty yellow, almost gold. They have a metallic sheen to them that seems unnatural. "Isn't it?" The figure says in his deep and booming whisper.
I pause. The Agent just broke the chain of code that we had been trading. He was supposed to say that he would go for a walk, but he has to check on his pet flying lemur back at his apartment. Perhaps, when you are one of the best at what you do, you get bored of the old ways and want to try new things. Maybe he thinks that because I am so young, I am a new Agent.
I spend a few moments trying to figure out how to respond. "There are enough clouds in the sky to keep from getting sunburnt." I say, looking at the space where the figure's eyes are ensnared by the shadow of his hat.
The figure's smile fades as a cloth-covered hand brings his glass of liquid back to his lips. "Oh, I'm not so sure about that." The shadow says before it sips from its glass. "Some clouds are just imaginary creatures, trying only to hold enough substance to keep their lining."
As the cloth-covered figure sips, I think about the words. What does he mean by imaginary? Are members of the Imperial Secret Police watching us? On the other hand, maybe the Dai Li from outside are listening in to us from underground? He could even be talking about the political state of the Fire Nation, which is a free-for-all between the various nobles as they try to profit as much out of the war as they possibly can.
"Aren't we all." I say softly.
The figure leans forward, and the light from the low lamp disappears from his face completely. "What can I help you with?" He whispers in a low hiss.
"I need was told to come find you during a storm." I say cryptically. Translation: I was sent to you by a Storm of the Mist Directive.
The figure leans back, reintroducing his mouth to the light. His lips glimmer metallically as he brings a single dirt-dusted cloth finger to his mouth in silent reflection. After a few moments of listening to the conversations at the table around us, I lean forward. "I'm trying to-"
"I know what you're trying to do." The figure says, moving his hand away from his mouth. "And I have plenty of reasons to want the same thing." The shaded figure taps his fingers against the wooden table. The movements are quick, precise, and release sharp raps with every contact. "I'm the best at what I do, there is no doubt about that."
My eyes shift to the figure's ten circles. I swallow slowly.
"But what no one seems to understand," the figure continues. "Is that I have a life of my own. Eventually, they're going to send enough Firebenders after me that I'll melt." The figure silently laughs, his cloth-covered chest bouncing up and down. "This will cost you."
I lean forward some more. "The Directive-" I start to whisper.
The figure leans forward, and cold breath brushes against my face. " You don't understand." The figure says as I shiver from the cold. "Your help, specifically, boy."
"Doing?" I ask. I have a strange feeling that I just stepped outside the bounds set for me by the Directive. Hell, I am sure this Agent did a long time ago.
"I need," the figure says in his cold voice, "distractions."
A nervous flutter forms in my chest. "Fine." I say, most certainly uncertain about this whole thing.
The figure laughs, and it is a low booming laugh that sounds like a factory hammer slamming against a sheet of thick metal. "If you think you are afraid now, boy, wait until you see what you're distracting for." The figure leans forward, and takes off his hat with his left hand.
I stare into a perfect replica of my own face, down to the exact positioning of my small noise and autumn eyes.
Before my own eyes, the face reshapes itself into long features with a pointed nose, yellow teeth, hollow cheeks, and silver eyes.
I can barely resist the urge to throw my chair back and bolt out of the bar as fast as my Airbending can take me.
"Scared now, boy?" The shape shifter, alien, spirit, whatever the hell he is, grins at me.
"What are you?" I ask. Two years of Agent training and six years of field work could not prepare me for this. Somethings are so unnatural, they can never be prepared for.
The… thing smiles at me. "I used to be known by a number," the creature says in its cold and deep whisper, "But now I just prefer to be called by my identity. Shuiyin."
Shuiyin lifts a cloth-covered hand from the table. One of the fingers suddenly grows longer than the others. Then it bursts through the cloth with a rip, and into the light emerges a long metallic claw. The figure smiles in the light as the claw wiggles back and forth playfully.
"You can't be…" I mutter. "Human."
Shuiyin laughs, and the metal claw recede back into his hand. "Right. I'm not human anymore, not after what I've been through.
"I'm something else. I'm Quicksilver."
A/N: School started. Sorry! I still plan to work on this, because I love my fans and my characters, but updates may be slower than everyone would like.
Anyone feel like drawing any of the characters in this story? I can't draw to save my kriffing (if you got that reference we are now friends) life, and I want to see how other people imagine my creations to look like. If you end up drawing one, feel free to send it to me!
-August